Cassie Lenoir May Cupp -

May had a booth selling her sourdough (which was, in fact, spectacular). Cassie was helping with the book stall. At nine o’clock, the crowd thinned, and May appeared with two mugs of mulled cider.

“There’s always music.” May pulled a small harmonica from her apron pocket and played a wobbly, sweet version of an old folk song. People stared. A few laughed. Cassie should have been mortified. cassie lenoir may cupp

“No?” Cassie’s voice was barely a breath. May had a booth selling her sourdough (which

“Because I did the same thing,” May said. “Left a law firm, a fiancé, a penthouse with a view of the wrong river. Came here to paint. Turns out, I’m a terrible painter. But I make a mean sourdough.” “There’s always music

Until the night of the harvest festival.

May nodded slowly. “I know that. The hollowing out. You give pieces away until you’re just a costume of yourself.”