By midday, the village square had transformed into a soft hum of voices, laughter, and footsteps crunching over gravel.
Boxes of colored banners sat under the trees. Children ran past with paper lanterns clutched to their chests like treasure.
The scent of dough frieds and roasted corn drifted faintly through the air.
Mr. Dand, standing near the well with a cloth tucked into his waistband, waved them over. "You two," he called. "If you're done playing bookstore dreams, maybe help us string some banners before the sun sets?"
Artur gave a half-smirk. "We weren't playing."
Billy nudged him with his elbow. "He means we were sealing life-changing deals."
Mr. Dand raised a brow but said nothing—just tossed them each a bundle of cloth banners. "Up they go. From the bakery to the post office. And try not to trip over the little ones—they're wild today."
