Chapter Three #2
“It’s a family business,” Jude snapped, his bushy gray eyebrows drawing together in outrage. “It affects my granddaughter.”
His granddaughter—Genevieve—whispered furiously at him, clearly telling him to shut up. Red bloomed across her cheeks and a scowl pulled at her lips.
“Back to parking,” Everly said with impressive patience. “When we fill the potholes next week, we’ll need to rope off parking spots directly on the street—”
“I’d like to add something to that—” Tom interrupted.
Everly waved her hand, effectively cutting him off mid-sentence. “Additions can be discussed during new business, Tom. You know the flow of our meetings.”
Grace snorted behind us. “You’d think he’d have figured that out by now.”
“As I was saying,” Everly continued, her voice taking on a sharp edge, “when we fill the potholes next week, we’ll need to rope off parking spots.
Temporary signs will direct people to the Ruby River Mercantile lot.
They’ve generously offered spaces behind their building to the affected businesses. ”
“How are you planning to compensate the owners of the businesses who’ll be affected?” Tom asked.
“You don’t have a business on Main Street.” Josie, the high school English teacher, shouted.
“We’re not compensating businesses, Tom.” Everly was a saint.
“And how will we know which spots belong to who?” Anita asked, genuinely curious rather than argumentative.
“By waiting for Everly to finish her sentence,” Grace said loudly enough to be heard throughout the room.
Mom shushed my sister, but there wasn’t much force behind it.
Anita shot her a glare that was ignored.
Grace just grinned, ate another chip, and cackled.
“We will have temporary signs placed in designated spots.” Everly finished. “Any other questions?” She waited approximately two seconds. “Excellent. Let’s move on to our next item. Creating a new community meetup group. I’d like to ask for suggestions.”
I relaxed half a notch. This was neutral territory. Safe. Uncomplicated.
“How about pickleball?” Tyler suggested. He was fresh out of college, worked at the gas station, and had recently moved back to Ruby River with ideas about “modernizing” the town.
“What the hell’s pickleball?” Reggie demanded, turning in his seat.
“Is it food?” Walt asked beside him, genuinely confused. Walt and Reggie were always together at these things, a matched set.
Josh ran a hand down his face. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Pickleball’s a stupid idea,” someone else grumbled.
“Okay. Enough,” Everly shouted over the rising noise. “While I think that’s a lovely suggestion, Tyler, I think we’ll table pickleball for now.”
Tyler sat down with a thud, his chair scraping loudly. “This town sucks.”
“So do you with that attitude,” Matt growled from his seat near the front. He owned Matt’s Diner—had for the past twelve years—and had the personality of a cactus. A grumpy, perpetually scowling cactus.
“What about a singles meetup?” Joel, Tyler’s friend, suggested, clearly trying to salvage the situation.
A low murmur rippled through the room, a mix of interest and skepticism.
“Is our town even big enough for something like that?” Someone said.
“How else are we supposed to meet people?” Another voice argued.
I watched as Delaney leaned forward in her seat, clearly considering it, her expression thoughtful.
That one small action shouldn’t have bothered me.
But it did.
My jaw tightened as my brain—again deeply unhelpful—supplied several detailed, unwanted images of hypothetical men smiling at her. Asking her out. Sitting across from her at Penny’s bakery. Making her laugh that real laugh instead of the fake polite one.
My hands curled into fists on my thigh.
Josh cleared his throat. “For someone who doesn’t care, you seem to be having a strong visceral reaction to her potential dating life.”
“I’m not,” I answered, my voice clipped.
Everly cleared her throat, pulling my attention back. “I’m going to pass on the singles event for now, Joel. Not because it’s a bad idea, but because our meetups are new, I want them to be inclusive to everyone.”
Josh smirked. “Saved by the mayor. That was close.”
I ignored him and forced my hands to unclench.
“Any other ideas?” Everly asked, scanning the room.
Nora, the waitress at Matt’s Diner, raised her hand tentatively. “What about a ‘Community Fix-It Cafè?’ I know there are times that I have something small that breaks, and I’d love to know how to fix it instead of buying a new one.”
My shoulders lowered instantly. This was better. Neutral territory.
Defined problems. Clear solutions. Practical applications.
I spoke before I could stop myself, the words coming out in a rush. “There could be stations. Electrical tools separated from mechanical. A sign-in sheet to track what comes in. Volunteers assigned to specific skill areas.”
Delaney glanced back at me, surprise evident in the slight widening of her eyes and the parting of her lips. I didn’t usually speak up at these things. She knew that.
I shifted my gaze and focused on the podium.
“I love that idea,” Gladys agreed enthusiastically from the front row.
“That doesn’t sound like it would need a weekly meeting though,” Kevin said, sounding smug. Probably because he didn’t want to be the only one that had an idea shot down. Little prick.
“What about a ‘Community Skill Share Night?’” Penny suggested, her voice carrying over the crowd.
“And maybe once a month, pair it with ‘Fix-It Night’. I could teach baking one night, and I’m sure there are plenty of skills our community members could share.
We could put a sign-up sheet in the Mercantile and start next month. It’ll give people time to prepare.”
A low murmur of approval moved through the room, heads nodding.
“That actually sounds useful,” Josh muttered beside me. “Which means someone’s about to ruin it.”
“Perfect,” Everly said quickly, seizing the moment before chaos could regroup. “Do I have a second for voting yes on the Community Skill Share Night?” Everly asked.
Nora’s hand shot up. So did Adele’s. Penny’s obviously. Grace leaned forward and raised hers with enthusiasm.
“Wonderful. All in favor.” Everly quickly counted. “Any opposed?”
Jude half-raised his hand, then lowered it when his granddaughter elbowed him hard.
“The yesses have it,” Everly announced. “I’ll put a sign-up sheet in the Mercantile tomorrow. Moving on.”
Thank God. A decision made. Clean. Contained. Easy. The kind of simple solution that should happen more often but rarely did.
“Next, I’d like to remind everyone that the annual spring Bachelor Auction is in two weeks. The money raised will be split this year. Half of the money will go toward our community programming and the other half to our animal shelter.”
A few people asked questions like what time it started and where it was going to be. I tuned them out.
“I’d like to call up Theo Patterson,” Everly continued, gesturing toward the side of the room. “He wants to talk about areas the shelter could use a little help.”
A smattering of applause followed, which made no sense. This wasn’t a performance. But people clapped anyway, the sound overlapping and uneven.
Theo stepped up to the podium, calm and steady. “Thanks for hearing me out tonight. As most of you know, the shelter runs on donations. Staff hasn’t had a raise in years, and we took in more animals than usual this winter.”
I shifted in my seat.
“And while Marc Kingsley has been generous with his time—”
Oh no.
People turned in their seats to face me.
Most were smiling, some nodded. Their interest and actions were fine. I knew that.
But it didn’t matter.
A tingling began at the base of my neck and up across my face.
I volunteered my time because the animals needed me.
“—and charges us far less than he should or at all—”
He could stop now. I didn’t need people to know what I was doing for the shelter.
“—we’ve cut corners everywhere else. We need new fundraising ideas and better ways to showcase our adoptable animals to the community.”
The weight of everyone’s stare bore into me. Unwavering attention like physical pressure. My ears burned.
Anita gave me a thumbs up from the front row.
I managed a tight nod back.
Theo continued, rattling off intake numbers, medical costs, and projected expenses for the next quarter. The facts and figures lined up neatly in my head, creating a clear picture of the problems. Numbers made sense. Statistics made sense. Budgets made sense. Animals made sense.
My shoulders eased slightly as I followed along.
“What about charging less for adoptions?” Someone called out from the middle of the room.
“How does that help?” Another person yelled out from the other side of the room.
“Then maybe more animals would be adopted.”
“Seriously?” Matt snapped, turning in his seat. “If people can’t afford a higher adoption fee, maybe they shouldn’t have pets.”
Josh growled low in his throat. “That’s not how compassion works, dipshit.”
The room started buzzing again, voices rising, people talking over each other.
Glamma cleared her throat.
Silence fell like a dropped curtain. That was Glamma’s superpower—the ability to command a room with a single sound.
“The girls and I have been brainstorming,” she said sweetly, far too sweetly. Her tone meant she’d already decided everything and was just pretending to ask for input. “And we’ve come up with a perfect solution.”
“Just perfect,” Goldie waved to everyone.
Why she was waving I didn’t understand. It seemed like an odd choice.
“Well get on with it,” Matt muttered just loud enough to be heard. He was one of the few people not afraid of Glamma.
“Shut your mouth, Matthew,” Gladys snapped without sparing him a glance.
“We think,” Glamma paused, for dramatic effect, drawing it out, “that yoga sessions would be the perfect way to bring the community in and raise money for the shelter.”
Delaney smiled at her—tentative, polite, clearly pleased.