Clark choked on his bacon, ready to splutter out some kind of tense take-back of the insult, but he was awarded with uproarious laughter from the man across the table.

“I’m just messing with you, Dallas. Buddy used to be my nickname, but getting a medical degree changes how people see you. I mostly just go by Michael now. How’re the pancakes?”

“Good.”

“Mel makes the best pancakes in the whole state, I think. On Christmas morning, he sets up an assembly line in the town hall and a bunch of volunteers chip in to help him make, like, two thousand pancakes so everyone in town can have breakfast before the festival starts. The 25th is our busiest day of the year.” Michael’s hurried excitement tapered off when he realized a tradition would be ending. He got a hollow look in his eyes, which Clark did his best to ignore. “I mean, he did. And it was. When the festival was still on.”

The festival. He was tired of hearing about the festival. If these people loved the festival so much, why didn’t they put it on themselves instead of using his family’s money? Better yet, why didn’t they raise the price from a measly $10 a person to $25 a person? A fifteen-dollar increase meant big things for their bottom line, yet when he’d proposed it to Carolyn, the Director of Operations, she’d assured him she’d rather quit the whole thing altogether than keep poor families out and only cater to rich folks. She then glared at him as if the mere suggestion of raising ticket prices cheapened the entire heart of her operation.

Clark said, “Listen, Michael. I’m not really looking for company. I’m fine on my own.”

“Yeah. Of course. I was just thinking I could maybe show you around, you know, give you the lay of the land since you’ll be here for a few days. I can show you everything. Library, bank, even the parking lots so your car doesn’t get towed again.”

News travels fast. He’d only told Kate and the tow truck guy about his car; twelve hours later, everyone knew. If I walk around with you for twenty minutes, will you leave me alone? Something in this town’s water must have made them especially persistent. As with his first interaction with Kate, Clark saw no other way to get rid of this guy than giving him a little bit of his time.

“Sure,” he agreed, trying to hide his displeasure behind a half-hearted smile, only to be practically blinded by Michael’s blinding one.

“Mel! Make my muffin to go!”