Page 76 of The Matchmaker
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I forgive you. But please think about it before you do something like that again, okay?”
He nods, looking serious, and Gemma steps in to free him, jerking her head in the direction of the stairs. “Homework only,” she reminds him, as he disappears up them again.
“I took away his PlayStation,” she says to me. “At least until his birthday. And we’ve had a stern talk about consent and social media.” She sighs, her frown lines so deep they look permanently etched into her forehead. “I can’t believe he did that.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I’m his mother, which means it is. He’s never done anything like that before. At least not that I know of anyway.”
“It was a shitty thing to do, Gem, but he’ll learn from it. I know he will. And this might be just what we need. Have you checked our emails this morning?”
“I’ve been a little busy yelling at my child.”
I pull my laptop out of the bag as we enter the kitchen. “Our ticket sales shot up overnight. We have awaiting list.”
“What do you mean?” She’s distracted, busy putting the kettle on and checking the time on the washing machine and putting the milk back into the fridge. I wait until she’s dropped the teabags in the mugs before trying to explain.
“I think, as wrong as what he did was, Noah might have just inadvertently given us the best promotion we could have hoped for. We’re sold out.”
Still, she looks confused, as though the obvious is inconceivable to her. “Of what?”
I spin my laptop around as she sits at the table. Our inbox fills the screen, crammed with another hundred messages in the twenty minutes since I last looked at it. Gemma frowns in concentration, her eyes growing wider and wider as she realizes what she’s looking at.
“What the hell?”
“We’resold out,” I say. “Every ticket. These are all people asking if there’s any space left. Two hotels called me this morning. All the rooms they set aside are full and I’ve got businesses contacting me from every nearby town asking if we need sponsors. People are coming. We just have to run the freaking thing now.”
“Oh my God.”
“I know.”
“Oh myGod.” She stares at it. “We should put the prices up,” she says suddenly. “And we’re going to need more food. And more buses.”
“We’re not putting the prices up.”
“But—”
“It’s the publicity we need,” I remind her as my phone rings. “Not their money.” I glance at the screen, expecting to see another unknown number, but it’s Nush.
“Where are you?” she asks, three words that put me immediately on edge.
“Gemma’s house. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just… I think you should come down to the barn.”
“The barn?” I ask, and Gemma looks up. “Why?”
“I don’t know really know,” she says, and sounds confused enough that I believe her. In the pause I hear raised voices in the background, and the familiar sound of construction vehicles working away. “Just come down here,” she says.
I don’t need any more convincing.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The rough trail that leads to the barn is jammed with cars and people. At first, I think Nush has organized another one of her protests, but she’s standing off to the side when I arrive, a small frown on her face as she takes in the scene. The men who were here yesterday are here again today but, instead of going about their job, they’re standing in clumps along with the locals, laughing and joking among themselves.
“He’s been here for hours,” Nush says, when I approach with Gemma and Noah.
