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are you wearing?”
    “The sage-green dress. I love the fabric and color, but I never know how to accessorize the square-cut neckline.” Lauren spun a rack of thin gold chains and inexpensive arrangements of costume beads.
    Sylvia set down her charge receipts and paced to the end of the counter. “I have something here that I haven’t put out yet.” She pulled a box from a low shelf.
    Lauren walked over to see what Sylvia was uncovering. “A Celtic cross. I like that!” Lauren lifted the cross out of its box and ran her fingers over tiny knots engraved in the pewter and the circle that joined the crossing bars. Then she lifted the chain and held it up to her neck. A glance at the price tag revealed no impediment to the purchase. “It will hit perfectly above the neckline. I’ll take it.”
    “Good,” Sylvia said. “I am about to close up the shop. I still have a list of things to double-check before the banquet.”
    “I could come early and help greet people.” Lauren swiped her debit card.
    Sylvia laid the necklace in its box, slipped it into a small bag with the receipt, and handed it to Lauren. “Perfect. I told Quinn to be there by seven. I’ll pick you up at quarter till.”
    As soon as Lauren stepped out of the shop, Sylvia turned off the O PEN sign. Lauren pulled her phone from her pocket to look at the time. Just after five. She had plenty of time to walk three blocks down and through the narrow door into the small vestibule that serviced a row of apartments built above adjoining shops on Main Street. Lauren’s two-bedroom apartment was above the small barbershop and the town newspaper. Two decades ago someone had carved out enough space for an elevator beside the stairs in her building, but Lauren preferred to take the stairs two at a time. It was only one flight.
    As she grabbed the ancient handle on the door to her building, she looked up and recognized the man exiting the barbershop.
    “Quinn.”
    He turned his head. “Hello, Lauren.”
    “What are you still doing in town? Shouldn’t you be home getting ready for your big night?”
    He raised his fingers to brush his freshly trimmed hairline. “My haircut is good faith that I will go through with this hoopla.”
    “You’ll look dapper, I’m sure.” She sighed in relief. “I’m so glad to run into you. I’ve been staring at this list of action steps for the health fair, and I’m clueless where everything stands.”
    Quinn smiled. “Everything stands just as it should.”
    “Booths? Tables? Vendors?”
    He nodded. “All of that and more. Cooking demonstrations of healthy food, immunizations for kids, blood pressure screenings, sign-ups for exercise classes at the community center, a recipe exchange for busy moms, even a book fair—because literacy is healthy for all sorts of reasons.”
    “I don’t remember a recipe exchange.”
    Quinn shrugged one shoulder. “I may have added a few ideas since we last talked. There’s a joke contest, too.”
    Lauren raised an eyebrow. “A joke contest?”
    “Laughter is good medicine.”
    “Do we need to rent more chairs for the demonstration booths?”
    “Done.”
    “What about electricity for the booths that need it? We can’t have extension cords all over the place.”
    “No, no. Safety hazard. I’ve already thought of that.”
    “Trash cans? And do you think we should keep the church building open so we have restrooms?”
    “It’s all under control, Lauren. Don’t let your stress get the best of you. It’s not healthy!”
    “Are there people I should be calling next week just to reconfirm everything?”
    “Lauren, it will be fine.” He touched her shoulder. “If it will make you feel better, we can meet Monday after school and I’ll go over everything with you.”
    She took a deep breath. “I don’t mean to be freaking out. I just want the fair to go well. It’s been a long time since the church reached out to the community with something this big.”
    “We wouldn’t