Well Played, стр. 36

I stepped back and checked my handiwork. The wide masking tape was in a Y-shape. Last weekend, we’d painted this booth dark brown. Today, we’d paint the booth with a textured paint to look like stucco with the tape marks on; then once the paint dried we could take off the tape, and the darker color underneath would look like the timbers of a Tudor-style house. We’d get a couple kids to climb ladders and paint the roof to look like a thatched cottage. Easy. At least, easy when you’ve been doing stuff like this for a decade or so.

Satisfied with how the tape looked, I turned my attention to Emily’s question. “It’s all about what needs to be refreshed. I think the booth we used last year was from when we’d first started. We reuse the benches every year, but some of them get broken during each Faire, so they have to be replaced.”

“Yeah, but the stages . . . we have to rebuild the stages every year too.” She stirred the paint while she thought. “But I guess they would look pretty crappy if they were left out all winter.”

I nodded. “Weather isn’t kind to wood.”

“There should be a better way, though. I’ll talk to Simon about it.” She handed me a paint roller, and we got started on the first coat of primer. It would dry fast in this heat, and we would be able to get the cream-colored faux stucco done by the end of the day.

I had to laugh at her. “Don’t you and Simon have enough going on right now without worrying about that?”

“Well . . .” She stretched up on her toes but still couldn’t reach the top of the booth. I wasn’t much taller than she was; we were definitely going to need to grab some assistants. Tall ones. “Yeah,” she finally admitted. “I guess we have enough on our plate right now.”

“Mmm-hmm.” I refrained from an I-told-you-so and we painted in silence for a few minutes. “Anything you want to talk about?” I finally asked. “Wedding-wise?”

“No.” Her denial was tentative. I didn’t push her in the lie. Instead I concentrated on coating the roller with more paint and attacking the next wall. We were good enough friends by now that she knew she could confide in me. But we were also good enough friends that I knew she talked about things when she was ready.

I didn’t have to wait long. “It’s getting away from me.” Her voice was quiet. “Between work, and Faire, and the wedding . . .” She sighed. I raised my eyebrows in response but didn’t speak; she wasn’t done yet. “It’s too much,” she finally said. “I don’t know how it’s all going to happen, and Simon isn’t any help. He—”

“Okay,” I said. “Take a breath.” I stretched on my toes and rolled paint as far as I could reach. “You know how Simon is about Faire. It takes over his life this time of year, right?” I didn’t look over at her to see her nod; I knew she was doing it. Faire wasn’t Simon’s true love the way it had been before Emily had come into his life, but it was still an all-consuming project. And all the help in the world, from Emily and Mitch and me, wasn’t going to change that. Simon was a make-lists-in-his-sleep kind of guy, and he always had been. I knew that. Emily knew that. At least I hoped she did, since she was about to marry the guy.

“Of course.” Her voice was shaky, but her nod was firm. “And I’m fine with that. There’s just a lot still to finish up. Lots of little things, you know? And April’s busy, so . . .”

“You have another bridesmaid, you know.” I pointed exaggeratedly at myself, slopping a little paint on my tank top as I did. Thank goodness I’d worn old clothes today.

“Yes. I do know that.” She threw me a side-eye, and I felt a little surge of triumph. She wasn’t freaking out anymore; she was back to her snarky self. “But I also know that you’ve been busy, doing all that stuff for Mitch.”

I waved a hand. “I’m just about done with that. A few more emails to send tonight; that’s it. So lay it on me. What do you need?”

“It’s mostly just little stuff.” She started rolling paint on the booth again, her mind back on our task. “I haven’t looked at the seating chart since the last RSVPs came in, so I need to make sure everyone’s accounted for. Stuff like that.”

“So you’re really doing a seating chart?” I kept my voice as neutral as possible. I wasn’t criticizing. I was observing. “Even though we’re going to be out in the woods?”

“There are still going to be tables,” she said. “And people want to know where to sit, believe me. I went to this wedding once where they wanted it to be all casual. ‘Sit wherever you want,’ they said. Well, it was chaos.” She shook her head. “Simon hates chaos.”

Emily hated chaos too, but I wasn’t going to say it. “Give it to me,” I said. “Is it on paper or spreadsheets?”

“Paper.” She sighed. “I should have done a spreadsheet; it would have been easier. But it’s too late now.”

“No kidding,” I said, not really sure which of her statements I was agreeing to. Both, really. I’d become a bit of an expert on spreadsheets since I’d been helping Mitch coordinate everything for Faire. “But either way, it doesn’t matter. You want me to look at them for you?”

“God, yes,” she said. “That would be fantastic. Do you think you could come over tomorrow to pick them up? I can’t even look at them anymore.”

“Of course.” As we finished up the painting, I thought that no one was going to be happier to see the back end of this wedding than Emily. Just so she wouldn’t have to think about it 24/7 anymore. The girl liked to plan