Page 52 of That Thing You Brew
Tasha hated Valentine’s Day, and I felt bad to skip out on her this year, but I needed that money for her—and to ease my guilt. Marrying Xavier would ensure I had no financial troubles, and Tasha would still struggle. She took the job at the high school for the benefits, which even when added to our parents’ health insurance still left a big chunk of monthly out-of-pocket expenses to keep her systems working properly. It felt like she’d always gotten the bad deal our whole lives. I was born a year and a half later and didn’t have one health problem to speak of. I didn’t count my stuttering in the same category as Tasha’s issues.
I gathered up my costume bag and accessories and tied on the heavy cloak. The harp was already in my car. Monty had assured me someone would be waiting when I arrived to help me lug in all my stuff.
The ball had a different theme each February, and the venue always complemented it. This year, the Biddingtons were raising money to fund the renovations of a historical Tudor-style home in Elk Creek Falls on the Colorado Springs border. When the work was completed, it would be open to the public for tours and lodging.
Monty’s parents had donated the funds to get the ballroom, electrical, and plumbing ready for the event. Donors and guests were free to don hard hats and roam the building and grounds if they desired to see for themselves where their money was going. A separate silent auction, set up by Monty, would benefit the children’s oncology wards at hospitals in the area.
A stage had been built at one end of the ballroom, theater-style, with curtains and everything, and included access to a green room where I waited with the other performers. The band would arrive later, after the dinner entertainment was finished, and I’d get this room to myself while they played.
It was almost like an episode ofAmerica’s Got Talent.Dancers, a singing group, a comedian, a puppeteer, a dog with a ruffed collar who did tricks with his trainer, and to my surprise and delight, The Great Howdidhedini, the magician from the Ren Faire. His bunny was in a basket with a cage-like door on the top, like one might see on the side of cat carriers.
“Penny! Oh, thank goodness you’re here!” Howdidhedini waved frantically from his corner. “My wife and son are lost. Can you watch Abby Cabunny while I go find them?”
“Of course. Will she be okay if you’re not back by the time I have to play the national anthem?”
He pursed his lips. “Ugh…”
“I can help,” the dog trainer, overhearing our conversation, offered. “It’s no trouble.”
“Oh, thank you both! I’ll be back as soon as I find them.”
“Good luck,” I replied. “Abby Cabunny will be fine.”
I knelt before the basket and peered at the bunny through the opening. “Hey, there, Abby Cabunny. Long time.” I held my fingers out for her to sniff. Her little nose pushed at my fingers, nostrils flaring as she took in my scent. “Good girl. It’s nice to see you again, too.”
I checked my phone as the clock ticked toward the start time of the event. Howdidhedini hadn’t reappeared by the time I had to leave to go on stage.
“I’ve got her. Don’t worry,” the dog trainer assured me, lifting her out of the basket and cradling her to his chest. She promptly clamped her chompers down on his pocket square. “See?” he asked, gently tugging the fabric out of her mouth. “We’re already friends.”
“All right. I’ll be back in ten minutes or so.” With one last look towards the bunny basket, I left for the stage.
On the other side of the front curtain, the emcee was interviewing Monty’s parents, who were thanking the donors. I settled onto the stool and waited for my introduction.
The curtains began to separate. I set my shoulders back and closed my eyes as the host asked everyone to remove their hats and stand. “And now please welcome harpist Penny Palmer playing the national anthem.”
I could play this song in my sleep. I kept my eyes closed to shut out the distractions. It was just me and the strings until the song ended. After the last note, I opened my eyes and stood to curtsy.
Polite applause punctuated with loud whistling from the back caught my attention as I turned. I wobbled into the curtsy, but kept my balance. My eyes sought the source of the whistles and hoots.
There!
Half a dozen men dressed as Musketeers—in blue tunics in the style from the ’90s film version—cheered from a table in the back corner. As I rose, their faces became clear, and I smiled widely.
Xavier and his friends had bought a table! And wow, did they look dashing. Next to him, and the source of the whistling and hooting, was his teammate, Bryce Chambers, pumping his buff arm and wearing a ridiculously fake handlebar mustache. The other teammates had brought dates, and their appreciation was more subdued. Noel and Gabby, Jason and Lauren, Brendan and Brenna, Trask and Kami. They’d all come out to support me on their night off, on their Valentine’s Day, at the Biddingtons’ stuffy annual gala.
I lifted my hand in a small wave before exiting the stage. I was glad I hadn’t opened my eyes; I might have been too nervous to perform.
Once I was out of sight of the audience, I hurried back to the green room to check on the bunny. Surely, Howdidhedini should have returned by now.
But he hadn’t, and as the cocktail hour wore on, and performer after performer left and returned from the stage, he still hadn’t arrived.
Neither had the band, but they weren’t scheduled to set up until dessert.
The event coordinator hadn’t had any luck contacting Howdidhedini or his wife, or his mother, who was his emergency contact. We hoped they were okay, but there wasn’t anything to be done—and no spare staff to watch the bunny, who was getting restless in her basket.
I’d have to take her on stage with me while I played during dinner. She was quiet and well-behaved, at least from my observations at the Ren Faire and tonight. Maybe my harp would even lull her to sleep. And if not, I’d let her run around a bit in the green room while the band played their first set.
I searched on my phone for what bunnies eat and asked an event staffer to bring me a bowl of water and a plate of lettuce, cucumbers, and carrot tops. There was room in her basket, and if she was eating, she would be less likely to fret.
