“Okay,” Emily says slowly. “Dear Marshal Dawson, fuck off. Hell will freeze over before you receive any of the Blackstone money. Just like that?”
Ethan groans. “Since he didn’t outright say that’s what he wants…tell him we appreciate him reaching out, but it’s the tourist season—we’re too busy. Make it sound nicer than that. Let’s move on. How’s the event planning going, Logan?”
“I’ve got it under control. I think we’ll be ready.”
Events are a new side project I’m spearheading to attract more customers and turn them into repeat visitors. The Candlelight Tour is our first event and attempt. It’s what it sounds like: taking a tour of the easily accessible caverns with candles only, no other lighting. I think it’ll be a hit—the candles illuminate the limestone, making it look warm and inviting, and adding amazing dimension to the rock formations. I upgraded the basic premise with a locally catered dinner and live music to make it more of an experience.
I clear my throat. I’m nervous, but I push it down. “We should look at adding a second event while the season’s still strong.”
“That would be a pretty quick turnaround, wouldn’t it?” says Ethan. “It took a few months to get the Candlelight Tour up and running. It’s already March. You’re talking like, what, two months? Maybe three if we push into June?”
“I think we could do it.” I open up the folder in front of me and flick copies of my proposal across the table to each of them.
Cole snatches the document and frowns. “Open mic poetry reading and a music performance in Blackstone Cave?”
Emily gapes at the page. “This is less than seven weeks away, Logan.”
“I’ve already got a confirmation from Futon Drift to perform. They’ve got a huge following, and they’ve never performed acoustically before. They’re very excited aboutperforming underground. And it’ll bring in a huge crowd to watch some of our local artists and poets perform. We’ll frame it as a continuation of Blackstone’s legacy.”
“Don’t get me wrong, it does sound really cool,” says Emily. “But if we wait until fall, we could have more lead time and bring on more people to help. It’d be less stressful. We’re already spreading ourselves pretty thin.”
“What were you saying about more responsibility just now? You could help me. This would fulfill that, right?”
“I meantmanaging,” says Emily. “We need to hire more people.”
“We do?”
Cole and Seth crack up at that.
“What’s so funny?” I ask. “I know it’s been busy lately, but we’ve been having fun, haven’t we?”
“It has been fun, but the rest of us enjoy other things besides work,” says Cole. “I want to start coaching basketball again. The company’s doing well, Logan. We don’t need to drive so hard.”
“I don’t see it that way,” I say, though the words feel weak.
“I see you up late, sending emails,” Seth adds. “Up at the crack of dawn, waking me with your loud-ass phone calls. Surely you’d rather spend your time doing something else?”
“I thought you said you had the Candlelight Tour event handled?” says Ethan with a frown. “Logan, there’s no reason to work overtime.”
I cast Seth an irritated look. That’s what I get for sharing a house with my loud-mouth twin.
“There are so many small details to coordinate,” I explain. Because the event is taking place at the cave entrance, we need to bring in everything—lighting, sound system, bathrooms,seating, etc. “That part doesn’t feel like a lot of work.”
“Itsoundslike a lot of work,” Emily says.
“Logan, the idea is great,” says Cole, “but it sounds like you’ve been working two jobs, giving tours and event planning. And you want to add more to your plate?”
I keep my posture relaxed even as tension coils beneath it. My face feels hot, my hands sweaty and clenched. There’s an edge under my skin, sharp enough that it triggers a deep breath. I can recognize the signs; I want a fight. I sigh. I’m better than this.
My voice shakes slightly before evening out when I respond, “It’s too good an opportunity. I’m prepared to shoulder all the logistics.”
My siblings exchange glances. Even though Ethan and Cole have a different father than Seth, Emily, and me, they all pass unspoken ideas across the table in a way only close siblings can. But none of them includes me in this discussion.
“Anything else on the agenda?” I ask.
“Logan.” Ethan’s face shutters in the carefully blank way he learned during his time as a sheriff’s deputy. “What happened to us all being on equal playing fields, instead of the ‘usual business hierarchy’? Yes, you put yourself in charge of events, but there’s no way this won’t affect operations.”
“It’ll also need some capital to get up and running,” says Cole, who acts as our accountant. “You haven’t even asked me if we have the funds for this.”
