12. Seismic Retrofit
CHAPTER TWELVE
SEISMIC RETROFIT
Claire
A knock sounds at my office door. “Come in,” I hear myself say absentmindedly.
The door swings open, and I know something is wrong.
Lucy and Sloane stand there together—at eleven o’clock on a weekday morning.
Neither of them should be here, which means they’ve either committed a minor crime or are plotting one.
Historically speaking, the odds are about fifty-fifty.
Lucy should be teaching lessons, and Sloane should be charming strangers into buying things they don’t need.
However, they’re both standing in my office with a look that says they’re about to interfere in someone else’s life—and I have a suspicion it’s mine.
They’re carrying coffee from my favorite local coffee shop, Vine and Bean, so I know they’re plotting something. I give them a raised eyebrow.
“What?” they ask in unison, feigning innocence.
“Whenever the two of you show up together, my life gets more complicated.”
Lucy laughs. “I should be offended.”
“She’s not wrong, though,” Sloane says, her smile unwavering.
They both enter my office anyway; boundaries have never existed between the three of us. Lucy sets a coffee in front of me as Sloane closes the office door. Definitely plotting.
“So…” I say, “what have you both done?”
Lucy smiles. “Nothing yet.” That phrase is deeply concerning.
Sloane searches through her oversized bag, pulls out a folder, and slides it across my desk. I look at it, then at them, then back at the folder.
“Open it,” Lucy replies, rocking forward on her heels.
“Just look,” Sloane says with a trace of annoyance.
Reluctantly, I open the folder. Inside are pages—messy, coffee-stained, some handwritten in Sloane’s cramped scrawl, others in Lucy’s bubbly print.
Event ideas crossed out and rewritten. A vendor estimate with a big red question mark. A sponsorship tier labeled “pipe dream???” I thumb through the rest of the pages.
“What have you done?” I ask.
“We designed a fundraiser,” Lucy says.
“A fundraiser,” I repeat.
“A big fundraiser,” she corrects.
“A huge fundraiser,” Sloane says. She can’t resist making everything sound bigger.
I look up from the pages scattered on my desk. “What kind of fundraiser?”
Lucy leans forward and points to a page. “The Juniper House Charity Horse Show and Summer Gala.”
She’s looking at me with a huge smile, waiting for an enthusiastic reply. “What? I can’t believe you planned an entire event for Juniper House.”
“Conceptually,” I hear Sloane say as I continue to stare at the folder’s contents.
“You made charts?”
Lucy hums, and I continue as if talking to myself. “Complete with spreadsheets and color-coded tabs—multiple tabs.”
Sloane points at the folder. “To be fair, I repeatedly suggested fewer tabs.”
Lucy scoffs. “You suggested glitter.”
“Glitter solves morale problems.” We all dissolve into giggles.
I’m trying not to tear up as Sloane continues. “Before you say no—”
“I’m not saying no,” I cut her off, my voice cracking.
“Before you finish saying no.”
I glare at her.
Unbothered, she continues, “We’re not starting from scratch. The horse show already exists.”
The annual Summer Classic at Willow Creek Equestrian Center attracts competitors from all over Northern California. Hundreds of spectators and vendors, sponsors, families, and money. Lots of money. Slowly, despite myself, I process. “Okay, I’m listening,” I tell them.
Lucy’s excitement intensifies. Sloane rolls her eyes, then, to my surprise, spends the next twenty minutes explaining logistics.
She covers not just vague ideas, but specific sponsorship tiers, vendor revenue projections, and even a media outreach strategy for adding a charity gala to the event.
For several minutes, I stare at her. Underneath all the jokes and sarcasm, she’s thought this through.
She looks up and catches me staring. “What?”
“You did all this yourself?”
She looks offended. “Occasionally, I have useful thoughts.”
Lucy snorts.
“What am I missing?” I ask.
Lucy gives me a sheepish smile before saying, “We took the issue to the town council.”
Of course they did. They’ve broadcast our problems to the entire town. Normal people hold bake sales; my family stages municipal interventions.
“Daniel Mercer, the CEO of the Mercer Development Group is interested in helping. He was asking a lot of thoughtful questions,” Sloane adds.
“I like what he stands for. He’s very outspoken about affordable housing,” I cut in.
“The community wants to help save Juniper House. It’s an important asset no one wants to lose, and you need to let people help. I know you’d rather wrestle one of Lucy’s horses than admit you need help, but this time, we are not letting you back out.”
“They’re quite friendly,” Lucy mutters under her breath.
A wave of affection for my meddling family washes over me.