My heart is racing, and every nerve in my body is screaming at me to close the distance and forget about being smart and careful. But Wyatt’s right. We made an agreement. We decided to wait until I was sure. And I’m not sure yet. Not about October, not about my future, not about whether I can make a life in Copper Creek like Mavis did.
But I’m sure about this moment. About him. About us.
“Just a few more months,” I say. “Until October, until I have to decide.”
“A few more months,” he agrees.
That evening, The Rusty Spur fills up like it always does on Friday nights, but tonight feels different. People keep coming up to me, regulars I barely know, faces I recognize from the potluck, people who’ve said maybe ten words to me total. They’re all saying some version of the same thing.
“Heard what you did.”
“Thank you for standing up to that developer.”
“Mavis would be proud.”
By ten o’clock, I’ve been hugged more times than I can count, offered more drinks than I can accept, and pulled into at least three conversations about Gary Allen.
Pastor Dale shows up around ten thirty with Ruthie, which is unusual because they don’t usually come out on Friday nights.
“Eleanor,” he says, extending his hand. When I shake it, he covers my hand with his other one. “I wanted to thank you personally. What you did today, standing up to that developer, well, that took a lot of courage.”
“I just said no to an offer.”
“You did more than that. You chose this community over your own financial gain. That’s no small thing.”
Ruthie nods beside him. “If there’s anything we can do to help you, anything you need, you just let us know. The church, the congregation, we’re all rooting for you.”
“Thank you. That means a lot.”
After they leave, I stand behind the bar helping Presley pour drinks, and I watch the crowd. The regulars. The families. The couples dancing to the jukebox. A group of twenty-somethings celebrating someone’s birthday.
This is what Gary Allen wanted to buy. Not just the building or the land, but this. The community. The people. The feeling of belonging. And he was willing to pay three point five million for it, but it was never his to buy.
At closing time, after everyone has gone home and the last glass has been washed and the floor swept clean, Wyatt and I are on the back deck like we always are. He’s got his sweet tea. I’ve got mine. The stars are out in full force, and the mountains are dark silhouettes in the distance.
“Long day,” he says.
“Longest of my life.”
“You holding up okay?”
I think about the question, really think about it. “Actually, yeah, I am.”
“No regrets?”
“Ask me tomorrow when the adrenaline wears off.” I lean back in my chair and look up at the stars. “But right now, no regrets.”
We sit in silence for a while, then Wyatt says, “What do you think he meant when Gary said they’d find other ways?”
“I don’t know, but Dolly said something similar, that men like him don’t give up easily.”
“Well, we’ll deal with it if it comes up.”
“We?” I repeat.
He looks at me. “Yeah, we. You’re not doing this alone anymore, Eleanor. Whether you stay or go in October, whether you sell or keep the place, whether Gary Allen comes back or not, you’ve got people here. You’ve got me. And we’re not going anywhere, even if you do.”
There’s something comforting about knowing I now have “people”. Even if I leave in October, my people will be here in Copper Creek.
