Pearl turns, a spatula in her hand. “You absolutely could do that. You’re a successful lawyer, Saramaria. I’m sure you have plenty of money sitting in accounts that were meant for a down payment on a condo in Denver.”
“I do,” I say, though the thought of draining the account I’d been saving for my own independence makes my stomach turn.
“But why do that?” Dot asks, her tone reasonable, calm. “Why drain your savings when this town is full of people who owe you? Or who owe Anthony? Or who just want to help?”
“Help?” I ask, confused. “It’s eighteen thousand dollars, Dot. That’s not a bake sale kind of number.”
“We aren’t talking about a bake sale,” Pearl says, sliding a stack of golden pancakes onto a plate and bringing it to the table. “We’re talking about a party. A big one.”
She sets the plate down in front of me along with a bottle of maple syrup.
“The Salt Lick. Tonight. Line dancing. Drinks. Food.”
I stare at her. “A fundraiser?”
“Call it a ‘Save the Ranch’ hoedown if you want,” Dot says, taking a pancake for herself. “But think about it. The rodeo circuit is suspended. Jack Dalton is in the wind. The weather has been garbage for a week. Everyone in Muddy Creek is climbingthe walls. They’re bored, they’re angry, and they’re desperate for something to do.”
Pearl sits down next to Dot. “Josie and Gus have been running The Salt Lick since Baby closed it down. They’re doing a good job, but they need a draw. A reason for people to come out and spend money. You give them a reason, and they will spend.”
I take a bite of pancake. It’s fluffy and sweet, melting on my tongue. “You think people will pay enough to cover the fines and the repairs?”
“I think if we charge a cover at the door, run a raffle, maybe do a silent auction for some of the local businesses... yeah,” Dot says. “We can raise that much. Probably more.”
“It sounds... ambitious,” I say. “And what about the noise? The alcohol? With Baby gone, the liquor license is still hers. Is she on board with this?”
“I already called her,” Pearl says. “She said if it keeps the ranch from being sold to some developer, we can use the place. She’s even donating a keg.”
“And the sheriff?” I ask. “Wade Colter isn’t exactly known for letting wild parties slide, especially with the recent tension in town.”
Dot lets out a short, dry laugh. “Wade Colter does what I tell him to do.” She takes a sip of her coffee. “He’s a good boy. He’s focused on the rodeo crowd, keeping the peace out at the arena and the stockyards. He doesn’t care about a little noise at the Salt Lick as long as it doesn’t end in a brawl. And I happen to know he owes me a favor since I helped him identify that counterfeit tackle ring last summer. I’ll give him a call. He’ll make sure the deputies stay away unless there’s actual bloodshed.”
I sit back, my mind reeling. It’s insane. It’s a lot of moving parts. It’s relying on the generosity of a town that has largely viewed me as an outsider.
“I can’t ask you to do this,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s too much. You’re already letting me stay here. I can’t turn your book club into an event-planning committee for my benefit.”
“Nonsense,” Pearl says, waving a hand dismissively. “We like a project. Keeps us young.”
“It’s not just that,” I say, setting my fork down. “I have the money. I can pay the fine myself. It’s my responsibility. Anthony left me this mess, and I should be the one to fix it.”
Dot looks at me. Her gaze is piercing, seeing past the lawyer façade, past the stubborn pride, right down to the scared girl underneath.
“Saramaria,” she says. “You have the money. But you don’t have the community. And you need the community more than you need the cash.”
I open my mouth to argue, but she cuts me off.
“We like having you around,” she says, her voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. “The book club... it’s been the same faces for a long time. We love Willa, and Josie is a firecracker, but you? You’re different. You fit. You have a spine of steel, even when you’re terrified. We want to keep you around for longer than just a few chapters.”
Pearl reaches over and pats my hand. “She’s right. We aren’t doing this for Anthony. We sure as hell aren’t doing it for those three stooges you live with. We’re doing this because you’re one of us now. And we take care of our own.”
I look at them. At Pearl, with her sequins and her wild hair. At Dot, with her binoculars and her sharp tongue. Two women who have built a life together, who have seen the town through decades of change, who have survived loss and scandal and who still have so much love to give.
My throat tightens. A lump forms that I can’t swallow past.
I thought I was alone. I thought I had to fight everyone to keep my head above water.
“I...” I start, but my voice cracks. I clear my throat, trying to regain some composure. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll help us plan,” Pearl says, grinning. “I’m thinking we should have a contest. Best boots. Worst dancer. Something fun.”
