They sauntered together, stopping to chat with old friends and new customers, when someone tapped Bryony’s shoulder.

Cal Forster stood beside them, a worn purple leash drooping between him and his big, curly haired dog. “What an event, huh? I had no idea. This must be bigger than the Fourth of July!”

“Don’t bet on it,” Lillian said. “You haven’t seen our Fourth of July.”

A small show of fireworks exploded in Bryony’s brain. She leaned down to ruffle the fur around the dog’s head, to tamp down unbidden, unexpected excitement.

As Lillian and Cal exchanged small talk, the intensity of their interaction crescendoed. Lillian’s voice gained volume. Cal’s perpetual patter ramped up to full speed, witty remarks inserted with strategy and skill. Lillian’s laughter peaked three or four times. Bryony looked down at Bailey. He cocked his head at her, as if to say, I’m not sure what that’s about either.

She leaned over and patted his head again. The dog’s hypnotic response to her touch indicated she didn’t have to be entertaining or interesting to make a strong, healthy connection with another living being. She wished people were as easy.

“You are a treasure, Cal,” Lillian said. “My husband will love you.”

“Hopefully not more than he loves you,” Cal said.

Lillian chortled again and turned to Bryony. “Do you mind if I take off for a bit? I need to catch up with Rick and the kids.”

Disoriented for a second, Bryony wondered if Lillian remembered it had been her idea for Bryony to attend every year. She started to protest, but Lillian was already moving away. This was a first. In the past, Lillian had always insisted they stay together for the entire night, citing it as one of the “signature events” of their friendship, like a commemorative holiday or a wedding anniversary.

Added to the surprise of Lillian’s turnabout, Bryony now faced Cal’s unbridled energy without a buffer. She stood alone, exposed to his attention, no counter between them, nothing in common but his student, and she could think of nothing new to say about Todd.

Silent, Cal clutched his dog’s leash. What was he waiting for? Usually he could say more in five minutes than she could respond to in a week.

Rainbow fabric wound around Bailey’s neck. “He’s festive,” Bryony said. Talking about his dog seemed like a safe subject.

“We’re both allies.” Cal smiled.

She squatted to greet the dog and rub his ears a third time. “Nice seeing you again, Bailey.”

“You two are old friends, having met downtown when you thought I might be stalking you.” Cal stood at attention, a wry smile on his face.

Bryony stood. “I never said I thought you were stalking me.”

“Oh, that must have been the other woman I met the first day of school who undoubtedly thought I walked by her workplace the next evening to meet her again.”

Cal grinned, and Bryony felt confused. Was he now confessing he had intended to run into her that night?

“Fancy a walk about the to-do?” The gleam in his eyes was youthful, not lethal.

The nervous knot in her stomach eased. Her shoulders dropped. She hadn’t noticed they were tense. “Lead the way,” she said. Not much could happen in the midst of hundreds of other people.

When he came into the coffee shop each morning, Cal talked to Todd, or Lillian, or anybody else who crossed his path. He shared funny little stories or turned a moment into a reason to laugh. Here and now, he appeared less urgent, and she appreciated his calmer tone, but her insides still threatened to turn into a jumble.

They sauntered past the performance stage.

“Todd is working out great,” Bryony said. “He comes in every day now, and I started training him on the computerized receipt system and cash drawer.”

She realized she already mentioned Todd’s excellent performance to Cal earlier in the day and started to apologize for repeating herself, but Cal interrupted. “He seems happy to be there.”

They walked toward the vendors’ booths, words tumbling out of Bryony’s mouth because silence seemed awkward. “He told me about his dyslexia, but it doesn’t seem to interfere with any of his job duties at this point.”

“I have great faith in the young man,” Cal said.

“Do you monitor all of your students as much?” Bryony asked.

“Let’s not talk shop,” Cal said.

Now what? She would have to endure walking beside him, conversation not an option to mitigate the impact of his presence on her because she couldn’t think of anything other than Todd to talk about. Please, God, she prayed. Do not let me do or say anything half as crazy as what I am feeling. So thrown off course, confused.

They were headed straight for the fifteen foot pile that would be ignited at sundown.

“How much wood do you suppose they’ve managed to collect in that pile of brush, logs, pallets, and other dunnage?” Cal asked. “That is one impressive pyre.”

“What’s dunnage?” The question slipped out before she could check herself to hide her ignorance.

Cal answered in a relaxed, even tone. “Dunnage refers to all the different kinds of packing materials used to secure loads for shipping.”

Rather than leave her with a sense of insecurity about not knowing, his simple answer seemed to settle her emotions. Her body again started to relax. “How do you know that?” She had observed twice his having to explain the meaning of his words to others in order for them to see the humor in his jokes. Cal seemed to be full of obscure bits of information and knowledge.

“Crossword puzzles? Novels? Dictionary addiction? I don’t know.”

“Sometimes I’m not quite sure what you’re talking about.” Like earlier, when he made the joke about stalking her.

Cal laughed. “Story of my life.” They walked in silence a few more steps, then he stopped and looked at her. “Would you like to take a spin around the block, escape this madness and have a friendly chat without interruptions?”

Every day, she had renewed her decision to not be pulled into her attraction to him. She had expected him to lose interest, but he didn’t seem to be going away any time soon.

Was he seriously flirting, or flirting with being sincere? Maybe if she understood him better, she would be able to relax around him. Reluctant, but willing, Bryony said, “Okay. Let’s take a walk.”

“Really?” Cal asked. He seemed surprised and unsure of the idea now.

“You weren’t serious?” Was this another bring-me-a-piece-of-pie moment? “Were you blowing smoke?”

“Yes!” he said as he fumbled with Bailey’s leash. “Um, no! I mean, no, I wasn’t blowing smoke, and yes, I was serious. Ab-absolutely. Let’s go!”

He had stammered. She’d never heard him do that before, and suddenly he became far less intimidating, but—she reminded herself—she was not interested. Not interested as they walked toward the parking lot full of cars, trucks, and SUVs. Not interested as they approached the road, the resurfaced asphalt still black with bright paint lines.

Neither of them spoke until they reached the sidewalk. Bailey sniffed the grass in the tree lawn, and they fell into an easy pace.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” Cal said.

“You don’t know anything about me.” The smell of his aftershave and the way his arm brushed against hers elevated her interest. Her mind fought hard to not notice.

“I know you work in a coffee shop,” Cal said. “And I know you quit a lucrative job, and I know your brother doesn’t support your decisions, and I know you’re an excellent teacher and mentor.”

Bryony grew uncomfortable, warm. “Sounds like you only know the good stuff. Not a fair and accurate way to assess someone.” She bit the inside of her lip. What was she saying? He was lovely to say such nice things about her.

“So, I’m asking,” Cal said. “Tell me what I don’t know. Who is the real Bryony Green?”