Page 130 of Best Served Cold

The past week has been a whirlwind of activity.

First, someone called Dylan, anonymously, and informed him about the fire, saying I was an arsonist and a menace.

Dylan pulled me aside and told me about it. He said he’d informed the person that if they came into the brewery talking smack about any of his employees, they’d find an ex-Marine’s boot print on their butt.

That had made me hug him.

I’d intended to talk to him about the NA menu, but his sweet gesture made me “chicken out” (Hannah’s term). I assured Hannah that I was still going to do it, someday soon. At the moment, the drinks were on a paper specials menu, but they’re going to add them to the laminated menus soon.

“Jonah’s coming,” I say, adjusting my corsage. It’s a gorgeous one, made by someone who wasn’t on a delicious time crunch. Rob brought it over this morning, along with corsages for Hannah and Briar, because he’samazing.

“You’re mooning,” Hannah accuses without heat.

“I am,” I agree, grinning. “I’m desperately, sickeningly in love.”

“Let the record show that you’re the one who said it was sickening.”

We took the eighties theme to heart. We’re all wearing eighties-era prom dresses we found at a thrift store, and Hannah teased her hair so it’s as big as a lion’s mane. Briar crimped hers, and Otis fell all over himself praising it. He only caught a glimpse of her all decked out at the house before he had to leave. Unfortunately, he didn’t get to ride in the limo with us, as he had to get to the Orange Peel early, having volunteered to help with the band’s equipment.

I’m not altogether sure his help was needed, or even wanted, but Rob acted grateful anyway, bless him.

“Itissickening,” I reply. “I’m happier than I have any right to be.”

Hannah scowls at me. “Take that back.”

“Yes,” Briar agrees. “You’re exactly as happy as you should be.”

Maybe they have a point.

Either way, I’ve decided to embrace these good feelings.

I haven’t emailed, texted, or phoned my parents to let them know about my cancelled wedding. If they neglect to call anyone else in the family, they may very well be boarding a plane soon to sit in the wedding venue alone. If I find out they’re over there at the pre-appointed day and time, I’ll be sure to send them over some rubbery fish.

This past week, Otis and I have also been working hard on our plans for The Crafty Monster. We’ve decided we’ll do it as a pop-up at first to cut down on costs, and Hannah has already offered to host us at Big Catch Brewing. And although I’m making moves to start my own business, Dylan said his door is always open to me, no matter what I decide to do with my life.

Life is big. Life is good. Life ishappy.

Thankfully, Dottie was as good as her word. Her friend Ann’s daughter is a foster mom, and Emil’s going to live with her for his last two years of high school. She’s already promised to let him practice as much as he wants.

But while Emil will be fine, it’s not the outcome he and Rob wanted. Jonah took something precious from them. Jonah has taken and taken and taken, with no care for what it costs other people. So I want him to have a reckoning.

Which is hopefully what’s happening tonight.

I run my fingers over my necklace. With Rob’s permission, I had his guitar pick made into a pendant, which I wear around my neck. And he, of course, reciprocated by having my “unlucky penny” made into a pendant for him.

I suppose this brings us back to Hannah’s “sickening” comment, but I’m glad to be sickening.

“Sophie,” Hannah says in her mock-threatening voice. “Say you’re as happy as you should be.”

“You’re such a sweet bully.” I roll my eyes, but I do as she says anyway. “I’m as happy as I should be.”

Then the limo rolls to a stop.

“You ready for this?” Hannah asks, her eyes sparkling, her hair huge.

“Yes,” I say at the same time Briar says, “No.”

We all laugh as we get out of the limo, drawing attention from the dozens of people milling about in front of the Orange Peel, smoking or talking or waiting to get in. Some of them are blatantly staring at us. Normally it would make my skin itch, but my self-consciousness has faded so much I barely notice.

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