Page 79 of Once Upon a Fall

“I’m looking forward to the festival,” he says.

“So am I,” I lie. If I could, I’d skip the festival entirely. Which is not how I usually feel about it. I normally love this time of year.

One positive thing about doing a less-than-stellar job is that no one will ask me to do it again. Hopefully.

We hang up just as a text comes through from Emma.

Emma: Happy birthday to Dom and Rosie! See you all tonight!

Right. The birthday celebration that feels like news every time I remember it since my dad reminded me. And also right now when I got this text, because I’d forgotten yet again.

Which also means Dominic, the person I share this day with, forgot as well. He was here earlier this morning, and neither of us mentioned a thing.

I text back a quick can’t wait! and then feel bad for the exaggeration. I can wait. In fact, like the festival, I could also skip this. No, that’s mean. Emma works hard to make sure we know we’re loved, and I need to be grateful.

It’s only because I’ve got way too much to do today that I’m being an ungrateful younger sister.

At least I can now cross Call Mayor Monroe!!!! off my to-do list.

Now I just need to find more people to make pies, design a load-in schedule for all the vendors, and make sure booth spaces are properly assigned. I managed to find a spot on Main Street for Carver Maple Farms, so what I told Sadie the other day actually worked out.

I’m calling it a birthday miracle. Because that’s exactly what it is.

This afternoon, a teen from the high school named Willa Pickle—the best last name I’ve ever heard—is stopping by for some training. I hired her to help at the inn during the week of the festival since I still haven’t figured out how to clone myself.

When Dean found out about my little trainee this morning, he seemed surprised. I’m guessing he thought I was planning on leaving my number on the desk and telling everyone to text me if there’s an issue while I run around making sure we have enough people signed up for the dunk tank. Something I still need to do.

Honestly, his surprise was valid.

“Rosie?” Dean calls from the stairs. “Come see this.”

“Coming,” I tell him, leaving my list and phone on the check-in desk before hurrying upstairs.

“In here,” he calls, and I head toward the Beauty and the Beast room.

The Snow White room still needs to be painted, but we spent the last two days moving all the furniture out of this room and starting the reclaimed wood wall.

The wood from Dean’s grandparents’ farm turned out even better than I expected, and I’ve been dying to see it finished.

“What do you think?” Dean asks when I walk in.

He’s standing beside the wall as if he’s presenting it to me. Dominic left him to finish the last section, and he’s been working on it all morning.

The boards run the full width of the wall, from floor to ceiling. In the barn, under all that dust, they looked gray. But with the light coming through the large bay window, I can see all the different colors. Silver in some places, warm brown in others. One board near the top is almost white.

Some of the gaps are uneven, and I think that’s what I love most. You can’t buy something that looks like this. It’s so much better than boring drywall.

I smile. “It’s perfect.”

My original plan was to whitewash the whole thing, but now I think I’ll leave it exactly as it is.

Dean’s smiling. It’s his full one, the one I originally didn’t think counted as a smile. The more I see it directed at me, the more I recognize how much I love that smile of his.

Maybe I’m caught up in the euphoria I’m feeling from this gorgeous wood wall, but none of this would have happened without the man standing by it.

I have too many feelings fighting for space right now. Stress about the inn, guilt over the festival, panic about the balloon payment.

But somehow, the biggest one is still Dean.