"Have you ever loved someone so much that you would let them go and figure out how to be happy about it?" I asked.
"No," Berto admitted. "I think that's what everyone strives for, but most of us never even get close."
"And I've managed to do it three times," I told him. "If Luke wants to do it, then I promise that I will not get in his way."
Berto just leaned over and clasped my knee. "I have a feeling that if Luke has to choose, he will always choose you. All of you, Ash. I don't actually think that Luke wants to be a politician, but I think he loves this place enough to make some pretty big sacrifices so that Southwind can open again." Then he patted my leg and leaned back. "On the upside, I invited a number of people to your lingerie party. We are going to need some serious refreshments."
I thought about that for a moment. "I have a funny feeling that there isn't a place around here that caters."
"No," Berto agreed, "but I happen to know how to cook. I also know that Emily would love to help. Now, Violet is useless in the kitchen, but I think I can convince Cy to pitch in."
"And Luke," I told him. "Believe it or not, that cowboy can cook pretty damn good. If you want to give me a list of what you need -"
"I got it," Berto broke in. "The problem is that we may be eating leftovers for weeks, or we may not make nearly enough. I'll run into town tomorrow and buy alcohol and groceries. That should give us plenty of time to make everything before your party."
"Two days?" I asked.
"Two and a half," he corrected. "Like I said, I have a funny feeling there's going to be a lot of people here. Some will probably come just so they can see inside of Southwind. Others will come because they're hoping to watch us fail. Then there's a group that will come because they honestly don't care who any of you sleep with - or how many - and they're good people who want to support their community."
"It's hard to think of these people as good after getting my ass handed to me at the Grill," I reminded him.
"In politics, we have this thing called the vocal minority." He jerked his chin at me. "Have you ever heard of it?"
"Vaguely," I admitted.
"Well," he went on, "the idea is that the loudest people usually aren't the majority. They aren't even the majority of a subsection of people. They're the squeaky wheel who gets the grease. For all you know, there could be six assholes in town and two hundred or more amazing people who have your back. Vera and Bea always said that Cats Peak was a good place to live. That makes me think that there have to be a lot of good people here. Maybe we don't know them, but we haven't really made an effort either."
"What the hell do you think we're doing if not making the effort?" I asked.
"I'm talking about before this," Berto said. "Ash, the good people aren't the ones who get in your face. They're the Emilys of the world. The people who are too busy trying to take care of their own shit to stick their noses in anybody else's. They're the people who will stop and offer you a cup of sugar."
"Or stop and change a tire on the side of the road," I said softly, thinking of how Luke had saved Violet on her first day in town. "But how do we know how many of them there are? How can we tell if this fight we're picking is actually going to be worth it, or if we're talking about bringing kids into a place that just wants to run them out - or worse, hurt them?"
"Give the good people a chance to stand up and announce themselves," Berto explained. "That's why you need to do these lingerie parties. You need to let the good people see that they are not alone."
"And also show the bad ones that we aren't scared of them," I reminded him.
"Oh, that's granted," he told me. "All I'm saying is that while Billy's plan might not make sense, it's still a good plan. Trust him. If there is anyone who can come up with a harebrained idea to make the impossible work, it's Blaze."
"Well, then here's hoping that giving away panties works, because I really don't want to give up on my boyfriend," I told him. "I also don't want to give up on the dream of Southwind. I have a feeling that losing the program would undo all of the progress Violet has made in her life."
Berto nodded slowly. "She wants to make Gran proud. She just can't understand that she already has. In Violet's mind, if she can't continue her grandmother's legacy then she doesn't deserve to live." He leaned over his legs and looked me right in the eyes. "And that is why the whole rainbow is working on this. Violet never gave up on us, so we will never give up on her - or Southwind."
Chapter Forty-Four
For almost three full days, the kitchen was going nonstop. During that time, Berto headed down to the cottage to help Emily make hors d'oeuvres and appetizers. To make sure it all got done, Zeke came up to the main house to help Faith cook under Luke's supervision, while Luke was outside focusing on making kebabs and other finger foods. Now, the house had enough food in it to feed a small army, but the best part was that no one complained when I wanted to sample something.
At 5 o'clock that afternoon, Blaze opened the gates to Southwind. Everyone had moved their cars and trucks to show where people should park. The horses had been turned out in their paddock, where they would stay all night. Music was playing softly through the house, and the two dogs had been banished to the dog yard. Even better, the weather was absolutely perfect.
At ten minutes before six, the first person showed up. It was Deena, the plus-sized lady from the last party. She brought two friends with her. Even better, she barely had her car parked before the next person turned into the drive. And then another. Old cars, new cars, trucks, and sedans, people kept coming. Clearly, news about our lingerie party had spread.
Cessily took over handling the drinks. Wine, beer, and plenty of nonalcoholic options were set out for people to take as they wanted. Emily said she was handling the food, so she placed trays with various snacks where people might wander past. The guys were kicked into the back yard, the grill was fired up, and the house began to get very, very full.
It was all women. Most drove with groups of friends, some came on their own, and others were dropped off, but they definitely came. Since we'd had a few days to prepare for this, Ash had turned his office and the storage room into staging areas. Cy's office was set aside for trying things on, along with the downstairs bathroom. The pathetic script that we'd used for the first party had been modified, adjusted, and built upon. The plan was to run this thing like a goddamn fashion show.
Friends greeted each other, and I was introduced to so many new faces. If I had to guess, there were about sixty different women in my home, which felt like it had to be at least half the town. Yes, quite a few of them were looking around as if trying to determine what made Southwind so special. I had a feeling most of them were disappointed - because we really weren't special. My house wasn't filled with million-dollar statues or plated in gold. The place was nothing more than a farmhouse. The thing that made it special was that I called it home.
The real problem was seating. We simply didn't have enough! I had hoped for twenty to twenty-five people. Instead, there was triple that. Then, just as I was about to go out to beg the guys to figure something out, Maisie sat down on the floor so that her back was against the wall. Like that was some kind of sign, everybody else began to get comfortable. The couches were left for older women or those who might be pregnant. Others moved chairs from the dining room table into clusters so they could talk to their friends. The whole time, I wandered between them, doing my best to be a good little hostess.
