“I can’t envision this the way you can.”
Looking at Daisy, I’m eighteen again and ready to leap at any opportunity to make her happy. I want to chase away the storm on her face and bring out the sunshine of her smile. All of our work could pay off with the pop-up, and I can picture the end goal—I just don’t know how to help her see it, too.
She leads me into the casita, and the air conditioning welcomes me like an ice bath. I swipe the sweat collecting on my forehead, and Daisy places a cool glass of lemonade in my hands.
“You used to love hot days like this,” she says, plopping down on a stool across the kitchen island.
“These temps are kicking my ass.”
“It’s only nine-thirty in the morning.”
I chug half of my drink in one go, and the cooling effect on my insides prompts a satisfied groan. “Fuck, that’s good.”
Daisy’s cheeks look red from the sun, and she busies herself with something on her laptop. “So how are we paying for these renos?”
“You said no porn, but…”
She keeps her eyes on the computer, the left side of her mouth twitching.
“Donors or investors were my first thought,” I say with a chuckle, studying a bead of sweat sliding down her chest. “People who will put their money into the project simply for the love of it.”
“Like folks from the community? Local businesses?”
Eyes up.“Exactly.”
“Sal’s?”
“That’s a good start. The Rotary Club, coffee shops, maybe? Any amount helps.”
She nods, wordless but clearly paying attention and willing—at least I hope—to follow my lead. We create a list of places and people in Harlow to contact, on top of resources from my network, like Eleanor.
“We could…” I hesitate, then throw out my next suggestion with a bitter scoff. “I could ask Judy and Bill.”
“They could donate all that money they’re saving on the storage unit,” Daisy says, which causes a laugh to burst from me.
“I…” I run a hand through my hair. “We know they have the money.”
“You’re not actually considering them?”
“Maybe? I’d like to succeed without their help.”
Her eyes go soft. “Of course.”
“They’d never agree, anyway.”
“Probably not for you,” she says, flashing a winning smile. “But for me?”
“Wow.” The best way to deal with my parents’ attitudes is jokes and sarcasm, and Daisy knows this. “Nice.”
She giggles, and the sound flickers inside me.
“You…you don’t actually think they’d funnel money into some artistic endeavor of mine, do you?”
“If this ends up becoming as popular as you think, then maybe.” She sinks lower into her seat and speaks her next words with care. “I completely understand wanting to do this without them. But if you really wanna show ’em, this could be a great way to do it, right?”
Daisy knows that my parents have never seen my dreams as equally valuable as passing the bar exam. Imagining them walking into the barn, their jaws slack in awe, fills me with a hunger I didn’t even know I had. How would I feel proving themwrong? And if the pop-up’s a total disaster, then could they be any more disappointed in me, anyway?
“I’ll think about it.” I stare at the list, wishing she were wrong. “Last resort, though. Who else have we got? What about Sunridge?”
