Chapter 29
29
T he four girlfriends stood in the town square, the faint scent of freshly baked bread and roasted coffee drifting over from the nearby Heavenly Bites Bakery. Capri adjusted her ball cap and eyed the list in Reva’s hand. “Why do I feel like we’re about to go to war?”
Charlie Grace laughed. “Because you’ve never been part of a fundraiser in Thunder Mountain before.”
Reva, clipboard held like a shield, grinned. “Don’t worry. With my mayoral charm, we’ll have them eating out of our hands.”
“Yeah, but will they be eating oysters?” Lila asked, eyeing the long list of businesses they had to hit.
Capri placed her hands on her hips. “If Gibbs Nichols is involved, they’ll be washed down with beer. Charlie Grace’s ex never passes up a cold one.” She turned her cap backwards on her head. “Let’s divide and conquer, ladies.”
With determined nods, the girls split up, each armed with a list along with charm, determination, and, in Capri’s case, a growing headache.
Minutes later, she pushed open the door to the Yarn Barn, greeted by the familiar sound of knitting needles clicking. The Knit Wit ladies were gathered around their usual table, surrounded by skeins of brightly colored yarn.
Betty Dunning, the leader of the Knit Wit crew, looked up from her knitting, a spark of suspicion in her eyes. “Well, this is a surprise, Capri. What brings you by?”
“By now, you’ve probably received Reva’s email about the earthquake remediation mandate.”
All the ladies nodded their heads, followed by a chorus of “We sure did.”
Capri grasped the opportunity to launch her pitch. “We’re organizing a Rocky Mountain oyster fry to raise money for the earthquake retrofit. We could really use your help.”
Betty pursed her lips. “And by help, you mean what exactly?”
Capri shrugged. “I don’t know...maybe donate some knitted potholders? Or a few of those meat pies you made last year?”
Dorothy Vaughn, who was always game for anything, piped up. “We could do both! I’ll throw in a couple of pies, though they’ll be filled with peaches. My trees are loaded this summer.”
“I’ll bring some meat pies,” offered Betty.
Capri raised a brow. “As long as they’re not from whatever critter crawled into your shed this summer,” she teased, but only slightly.
Betty cackled. “No promises.”
Betty could be unpredictable when it came to her cooking. Last year’s mystery stew still haunted Capri’s taste buds. Betty laughed, the sound hearty and unapologetic.
“Oh, don’t worry, honey,” she quickly added with a wink. “This year, I’m sticking to beef. Well, mostly.”
The group chuckled, but Capri shot a glance at Dorothy, who gave her a subtle shake of the head, silently warning her not to ask too many questions. When it came to Betty’s culinary creations, sometimes ignorance really was bliss.
Next, Capri headed to Albie Barton’s office. Albie was hunched over his typewriter, the sound of clacking keys filling the room.
“Albie, we need front-page coverage,” Capri said, not wasting time on pleasantries.
“Let me guess, the fry.” Albie didn’t look up, still typing.
“We need to drum up excitement.” She also told him about their idea for the online crowdfunding page and the need to publicize it.
Albie paused, finally glancing at her over his glasses. “I’ll see what I can do. But remember, I have deadlines to meet. I’ll need all the information pronto.”
Capri rolled her eyes. “You write for the Thunder Mountain Gazette , not The New York Times. ”
He grinned, his hands hovering over the keys. “Fine, it’ll go out in the morning. Front page. But I get to title it.”
Capri groaned. “As long as it’s not something ridiculous like ‘A Calf’s Biggest Sacrifice.’”
Albie thew his head back in laughter. “Now you’re just giving me ideas.”
Reva, Lila, and Charlie Grace were already at the Rustic Pine when Capri walked in. Pastor Pete, polishing glasses at the bar, raised a brow at their request.
“You want a donation?” Pete asked, the corners of his mouth lifting. “Sure thing! Annie and I will give you a couple of kegs, but only if you girls can beat me in a game of darts.”
Reva groaned. “Pete, you know I’ve got about as much dart skill as a blindfolded cow.”
“And I’m no better,” Lila added. “None of us are very good at this.”
Capri picked up a dart and eyed it confidently. “Speak for yourselves. I’ve been known to score a bullseye on occasion.”
“Even so, I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Reva said. “Capri may have talent, but the rest of us suck at darts.” She pointed her finger at Pete. “I suspect you already realize you have little to worry about when it comes to this competition.”
“That’s why it’s fun,” Pastor Pete said, already pulling the darts from behind the bar. “Besides, the stakes are high—free beer.”
Charlie Grace raised a brow. “What happens if we lose?”
Pastor Pete grinned. “You get the beer anyway. But I get to brag about it all week.”
Reva shook her head, laughing as she grabbed a dart. “Alright, deal. But just know, we’re only accepting this challenge for the sake of our beloved Thunder Mountain.”
The girls took turns throwing, missing the board more than once, and Pastor Pete, true to form, didn’t let them live it down. But in the end, they walked out with their kegs secured and a fresh story to tell.
“You do realize we’re never going to hear the end of this, right?” Reva muttered as they left.
“Worth it,” Capri said, smirking. “We’ve got our free beer.”
Capri wandered over to the cemetery, knowing Oma would be there, sitting next to Earl’s grave. As expected, the old woman was perched in her lawn chair with a fresh platter of cinnamon rolls.
“Afternoon, Oma,” Capri greeted, pulling up a nearby stump. “We’re getting donations for the fundraiser.”
Oma’s face lit up. “For the oyster fry?”
“Yup. Got anything you want to donate?”
“I’ll donate a couple of batches of cinnamon rolls. They’ll go faster than those oysters, I guarantee.”
Capri grinned. “You’re the best. Earl’s lucky to have you keeping him company with rolls like these.”
Oma laughed, offering one to Capri. “Have one for the road, dear.”
The last stop was Wylie’s Feed and Seed, where Wylie himself was fiddling with a display of lawn and garden equipment. When they asked for his contribution, he grinned.
“I’ll donate,” he said, scratching his beard. “But only if you make sure everyone knows it’s my secret recipe for the oysters.”
Capri smirked. “Your recipe? Since when do you know how to fry anything?”
“Trade secret,” Wylie said with a wink.
Reva laughed. “We’ll just put your name in lights then.”
“Deal,” Wylie said, shaking hands.
The sun was setting as the four of them gathered back at the town square, tired but satisfied. They plopped down on the steps of the Moose Chapel, reviewing the list of donations.
“Well,” Reva said, scanning the paper. “This is a good start. We’ve got a keg, pies, cinnamon rolls, and...questionable meat pies.”
Lila groaned. “Only in Thunder Mountain could we fundraise for an earthquake with Rocky Mountain oysters and mystery meat.”
Capri smiled, leaning back against the steps. “If this town can survive this oyster fry, it can survive anything.”
Charlie Grace chuckled. “Here’s to the fry. Let’s hope people come for the food and stay for the cause with checkbooks in hand.”
“And the keg,” Capri added, raising an imaginary glass. “Definitely the keg.”