Pete is getting measured for a classic black tuxedo, and looks like a slightly pudgy, middle-aged 007.
“About that. There’s something you ought to know, Rowdy.”
Pete has that look that people get when they need to have a serious conversation.
I don’t want him revealing any of Riley’s personal business here in the store, so I raise my hand, “If there are any surprises, I like to find things out along the way. Keeps life interesting.”
“It’s nothing like that,” he says. “It’s about the guests of honor. I just got a call today that Wilson Rogers III is coming to the gala.”
The name is familiar. “As in the now-defunct tobacco company? That Wilson Rogers?”
He nods. “He stands to inherit his entire family fortune. The company may be defunct, but the foundation is still going strong. The old man’s donation to this town makes up forty percent of our budget that funds the base salaries of our artists.”
I blink at him. “I had no idea that family made up such a huge amount of that.”
Pete nods. “And Wilson is thinking of taking the foundation in a new direction. He’s stacking the board of directors, and word at the barber shop is that guy has been donating to all the local politicians who want to dismantle libraries and funding forthe arts. I had one customer tell me that guy has been kicking around the idea of running for governor.”
I’m taking my time to process all of this. That name is not just familiar because of old tobacco; he’s also familiar to me for other reasons. My granddad, for one, would like a word. May he rest in peace.
“That guy’s a shitbird.”
“Shitbird or not, Riley needs to make a good impression on him to secure the funding and keep this thing going for Songbird Ridge. I’m trusting her on this because I need to focus on selling the remaining tickets. We have an entire table that’s unsold.”
I think about this, and I have an easy solution. I just have to make one phone call after this appointment.
“So,” Pete continues, “Unless she and all the other musicians, potters, and whatnot in town want to learn how to drive a forklift and get jobs at the lumber mill or Walmart.”
Over my dead body.
“Pretty sure that’s why Riley asked me to be her date. She said she needed someone to be her social buffer.”
Bonnie, who has been listening to every word we’ve been saying, chimes in. “Oh, trust me, Pete. Rowdy here is great at parties.”
The tailor working with Pete laughs. “Right? Remember when the fireworks company was a no-show last Fourth of July? Rowdy went out and bought up everything left over at the tent sale and set up a station on the roof of his house. He saved Independence Day!”
I clear my throat. “Got a talking-to from the fire chief, too,” I mutter. “Worth it.”
The tailors embarrass me by mentioning that I stayed up all night once to build a new stable for the live nativity in time for Christmas Eve, after the old one was lost in the 2024 flood andended up downriver. Some other customer pipes up with a story about how I kept the whole town supplied with ice when the power was out for days.
If my granddad were here, he’d tell me not to get too big for my britches with all these compliments. “I’m rarely at a loss for words, but I’m coming close.”
Nobody’s hearing me.
“He’s really the best person for Riley. To bring her out of her shell! I think they’re a perfect match,” says Bonnie. “Oh my gosh, can you just picture the cute babies they would make?”
Pete scoffs. “Okay. That’s about enough of that.”
I have to agree.
“Pete continues, “If you want to really be of help to Riley, you’ll be on your best behavior. I know all about the good stuff. But my brother-in-law is a patrolman. So I know all the bad stuff, too.”
I blanche at the mention of the cops, but try to maintain my bravado. “How is Hodges these days? Tell him I said hello.”
Hodges Pitts graduated five years behind me at Songbird Ridge High School. He was a goober then, and now he’s a goober with a badge.
“You can tell him yourself at the gala.”
I can tell from the look on his face that he knows precisely what Hodges’s beef with me is about.
