they’d completed them to ensure everything was done and ready to roll in the morning.
He exchanged hellos with a couple of people he’d gone to school with, and then nodded to Ryan’s mom, who was putting bottled water in a cooler for the folks helping set things up. She looked a lot more relaxed than she had in his office.
A nagging loneliness caught him off guard.
The guys down at the firehouse were always trying to fix him up on dates. That was nothing new, but he hadn’t had the appetite for that kind of thing yet. Although ever since Justin’s wedding last weekend, he yearned for a little company. And although appointments like the gummy bear incident with little Ryan yesterday made him sometimes second-guess his desire, he did long to have a couple kids someday.
Boot Creek’s Annual Blackberry Festival was held the second Saturday in June every year—rain or shine. This year was supposed to be the biggest year yet. They’d even outsold all the previous years’ ticket sales just in online preorders—and online sales was something they’d only started doing the previous year.
Word of mouth made the festival bigger every year, but the article in Our State magazine hadn’t hurt, and when the Food Network had popped in on the Blue Skies Cafe, Ol’ Man Johnson had worked in a little plug too. That’s when the town really saw a jump.
Derek wove between groups of people, the members alternately working and lollygagging. The streets were alive with activity. Men worked at securing tent poles, and women set up tables for their wares. Tomorrow everything from bird feeders and jewelry to pottery and quilts would fill the streets. And food incorporating blackberries any way you could dream of, and a few ways that even the best imagination wouldn’t have pictured, would be the biggest draw.
He stood in line, waiting for his turn at the information booth. The girl in the booth had a system, and she was checking in people ahead of him and sending them on their way in a jiffy.
“Derek Hansen checking in,” he said.
“Hey, Derek. How have you been?”
“Good.” He recognized her voice, but he’d be darned if he could place her face. This was when nametags would be nice.
She scanned a long list of tasks on her clipboard. Then she pulled an index card from a box and handed him an XL t-shirt with the festival logo on it along with the card with his assignment. “Check back in with me when you’re done, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Her serious tone tempted him to give her a salute, but then with more than one hundred and twenty-five vendors to set up tonight, he probably shouldn’t razz her for being a little frazzled.
And it wasn’t just locals either. This festival had become so popular across the state that vendors planned a year in advance to be among those selected to participate. That added complexity to the situation.
Derek’s task card said that he was to set up the tables in the fire department tent area and assemble the t-shirt grids. No problem. He got right to work and it really didn’t take too long to get it set up.
When he moved the last piece of grid wall into place, a bright-green tree frog leapt from the white plastic covering to the top of his boot, and then to the still hot cement pad.
“You could probably use some water on this hot night, couldn’t you?” Derek poured a little from his bottle next to the frog, and darned if that little guy didn’t jump right into the middle of the puddle like a kid on a rainy day. “There you go, buddy.”
The tiny frog’s mouth seemed to open and close like he was giving Derek a thank-you nod for the cool down.
“Later, dude,” he said to the frog, then walked back along the festival route. He dropped off his completed task card at the booth and offered to take another.
Someone needed help with hanging tent sides. He could handle that. It was clear at the other end of the spread, so he took his time checking out what was in place
He exchanged hellos with a couple of people he’d gone to school with, and then nodded to Ryan’s mom, who was putting bottled water in a cooler for the folks helping set things up. She looked a lot more relaxed than she had in his office.
A nagging loneliness caught him off guard.
The guys down at the firehouse were always trying to fix him up on dates. That was nothing new, but he hadn’t had the appetite for that kind of thing yet. Although ever since Justin’s wedding last weekend, he yearned for a little company. And although appointments like the gummy bear incident with little Ryan yesterday made him sometimes second-guess his desire, he did long to have a couple kids someday.
Boot Creek’s Annual Blackberry Festival was held the second Saturday in June every year—rain or shine. This year was supposed to be the biggest year yet. They’d even outsold all the previous years’ ticket sales just in online preorders—and online sales was something they’d only started doing the previous year.
Word of mouth made the festival bigger every year, but the article in Our State magazine hadn’t hurt, and when the Food Network had popped in on the Blue Skies Cafe, Ol’ Man Johnson had worked in a little plug too. That’s when the town really saw a jump.
Derek wove between groups of people, the members alternately working and lollygagging. The streets were alive with activity. Men worked at securing tent poles, and women set up tables for their wares. Tomorrow everything from bird feeders and jewelry to pottery and quilts would fill the streets. And food incorporating blackberries any way you could dream of, and a few ways that even the best imagination wouldn’t have pictured, would be the biggest draw.
He stood in line, waiting for his turn at the information booth. The girl in the booth had a system, and she was checking in people ahead of him and sending them on their way in a jiffy.
“Derek Hansen checking in,” he said.
“Hey, Derek. How have you been?”
“Good.” He recognized her voice, but he’d be darned if he could place her face. This was when nametags would be nice.
She scanned a long list of tasks on her clipboard. Then she pulled an index card from a box and handed him an XL t-shirt with the festival logo on it along with the card with his assignment. “Check back in with me when you’re done, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Her serious tone tempted him to give her a salute, but then with more than one hundred and twenty-five vendors to set up tonight, he probably shouldn’t razz her for being a little frazzled.
And it wasn’t just locals either. This festival had become so popular across the state that vendors planned a year in advance to be among those selected to participate. That added complexity to the situation.
Derek’s task card said that he was to set up the tables in the fire department tent area and assemble the t-shirt grids. No problem. He got right to work and it really didn’t take too long to get it set up.
When he moved the last piece of grid wall into place, a bright-green tree frog leapt from the white plastic covering to the top of his boot, and then to the still hot cement pad.
“You could probably use some water on this hot night, couldn’t you?” Derek poured a little from his bottle next to the frog, and darned if that little guy didn’t jump right into the middle of the puddle like a kid on a rainy day. “There you go, buddy.”
The tiny frog’s mouth seemed to open and close like he was giving Derek a thank-you nod for the cool down.
“Later, dude,” he said to the frog, then walked back along the festival route. He dropped off his completed task card at the booth and offered to take another.
Someone needed help with hanging tent sides. He could handle that. It was clear at the other end of the spread, so he took his time checking out what was in place
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