Chapter 1 #2
He patted my arm. “Oh, you know we can’t resist a stage, my boy. Actually, the thing I wanted to speak to you about is tangentially related.”
“Oh?”
“We’ll get there. I want to loop someone else in on this conversation.”
We moved past the amphitheater into the story garden that had been laid out and planted in the spring by a whole platoon of helpers as a living love letter from my best friend, Ramsey Shaw, to my twin, Alia.
It was greening up now, leafed out and flowering.
If I were a more romantic sort, I might’ve said it reflected the way she’d bloomed in the relationship.
She’d about run herself into the ground during her stint as interim mayor when our dad, the actual mayor, had been seriously injured rescuing folks from the flood.
And all of us—from the rest of our massive family to the entire town—had let her, because holding things together and making the hard calls was just what my sister had always done with so much competence that we’d all taken her for granted, without giving a single thought to the toll it was taking on her.
At least until Ramsey had called us out for having our heads up our asses.
Not that he’d used that particular phrasing, but that had been the gist. We’d collectively shaped up to take things off her overflowing plate, and Alia had married my closest friend just a few weeks ago.
The newlyweds themselves were heads together on one of the many benches along the winding path through the garden.
Their long-haired mini-dachshund, Biscuit, peeked out of a sling strapped to Ramsey’s broad chest. Given he was one of the leading tight ends in the NFL and built like a giant, that would never not be hilarious.
Rubble spotted Biscuit first and gave a sharp wag, trotting forward to investigate. Biscuit answered with a shrill yap, all ten pounds of her puffing up like she was ready to take on the world and had no idea she was approximately the size of my dog’s head.
Rubble’s tail was going a mile a minute as she leaned in for a sniff, but I took a firmer grip on her leash. “Easy there, rookie.”
Alia laughed, scooping Biscuit out of the sling before Rubble’s nose could bowl her over. “They’re fine. She’s tougher than she looks.”
I raised a brow. “She’d have to be, to survive living with Ramsey. Still not sure I’d call that thing an actual dog.”
Ramsey smirked. “Careful, Bodie. That ‘thing’ can take down a steak in record time. Pound for pound, she’s meaner than your rookie there.”
“Yeah, but Rubble doesn’t need a baby sling to avoid getting stepped on,” I shot back.
Alia rolled her eyes at us, though her smile stayed soft.
She had that glow about her—not just the newlywed shine, but the kind of peace that came from finally not carrying everything alone.
I was damned glad for it. I just didn’t care to dwell too long on the mental picture of my twin tangled up with my best friend.
Some doors in my brain were better left shut.
Before the silence could stretch, Uncle Dee snapped open his fan with a flourish.
“Well, isn’t this sweet as honey butter on a biscuit?
Newlyweds, proud pups, and the Chief here pretending he’s not sentimental.
” He gave my arm a pat. “But as charming as this tableau is, we’ve got business to discuss. ”
Ramsey tilted his head. “Business?”
Uncle Dee’s eyes glinted. “The next step. Main Street’s coming back, but the blocks beyond still look like a war zone. Folks are tired. They need a reason to keep at it. A goal. A reward.”
I frowned. “What kind of reward are we talking?”
“A festival,” Uncle Dee declared, fan snapping shut again like an exclamation point.
“Early fall, before the leaves turn. Music, food, crafts, contests. A celebration to remind people what we’re building toward.
You dangle a festival, and they’ll push through the rest of the work just to see it happen. ”
Rubble gave a soft woof, like she agreed.
Ramsey rubbed his thumb along Biscuit’s head. “That’s not a bad idea. If you tie it to fundraising, you could stretch the recovery dollars farther.”
“Not just early fall. September,” Alia said. “On the anniversary of the flood. To remind everyone not only of what we’re building toward but of how we survived. That is the real cause for celebration.”
Uncle Dee pointed his folded fan at her. “You are a genius, as always.”
She shifted Biscuit onto her lap. “I’m afraid ideas are all I can offer. You’ll have to count me out for most of the planning. I’ve got a wall-to-wall calendar with book events for the new release.”
Hearing her say that still caught me sideways.
My twin. The same one who used to keep her writing under lock and key, now out in the world as Kella Harmon, with signings and panels and so many fans I couldn’t even begin to wrap my brain around it.
I was proud as hell of her, but my brain was still catching up.
Uncle Dee patted her hand. “That’s fine, sugarplum. You’ve earned your author tour. The rest of us can handle logistics. Though you did promise me one small errand before you run off to play famous.”
Alia groaned. “The shelter trip. I know. I didn’t forget.”
I arched a brow. “What shelter trip?”
“To pick out my new roommate. A fine feline companion.” Uncle Dee pressed a dramatic hand to his chest. “A dignified creature who won’t abandon me for the bright lights of Charleston like your sister here.”
Ramsey chuckled. “So you’re replacing my wife with a cat?”
I snorted. “Cat’s got big shoes to fill.”
That earned me a smile from Alia, and the tension that had been riding my shoulders since morning eased just a little.
“So it’s settled.” Uncle Dee fanned himself once more, already shifting into planning mode. “We’ll get the committee together and make it happen. Before the leaves turn, Gibson Hollow will have a festival worth remembering.”
From the nods all around, it was clear nobody was about to argue.