Oh. Right. Because Tank filled my head with nonsense about me being the glue and the one with vision. Then he mentioned Sheet Cake, I thought of Lindy, and I was kind of a goner.
“What do you think about his idea, Patty?” Harper asks, and the fact that she’s asking my opinion stuns all of us into silence again.
I examine the cigar in my hands, slip off the paper band, a little loose from the humidity, and put it on my finger. My pinky, because my ring finger is too big. Premature though it may be, I’m thinking about Lindy, wearing my ring and a white dress.
And I thought Tank had lost brain cells buying a town. Joke’s on me! I’m Tweedledum to his Tweedledee.
“Are you still with us, Patty?” Collin asks.
“Yep.”
At least half of me is. Because I left the rest in Sheet Cake. I’m crumpled up in Lindy’s pocket like a forgotten receipt or a bit of dryer lint. But I don’t plan to stay that way. I don’t have a strategy YET, but I’ve already got ideas popping up in my mind like moles needing to be whacked with a toy hammer.
“So,” Harper urges, “what are your thoughts?”
Even Smoky and Brutus seem to be watching me like I’m wearing a shirt made of bacon or something. I consider how I can answer this honestly, but also without revealing anything about Lindy.
“I thought Tank was joking at first. Then I thought he had a vitamin or brain cell deficiency. The jury’s out on that.” I rock back in my chair a little, staring down at the chips and cards strewn around the wooden table. “But … I’ll confess, something about the idea intrigues me.”
“Would this town”—Collin says the word like he’s talking about cow patties—“even work for Dark Horse? I mean, if James is willing to consider it with a level head.”
I scratch my chin. “It would be … a project.”
“The potential brewery location is a project? Like, the building is run down?” Harper asks.
I find myself giggling. Not chuckling. Giggling. Of all the stupid nervous tics to have, mine is one shared with little girls.
“No,” I say through my giggles. “The whole place is a project. It’s basically a ghost town. The Walking Dead without the zombies. Or without people fighting the zombies.”
Collin sits heavily back down at the table and tosses his cigar at me. It beans me in the forehead and falls to the ground. Harper snatches it up before Smoky can eat it. He is a canine garbage disposal with zero standards. He’s eaten—or tried to eat—socks, magazines, couch cushions, and doors. Yes—he ate his way through part of a door. Chase renovated their house before he and Harper got married. Then he had to keep fixing it up because of the destructive pooch.
“What is he thinking?” Collin asks.
“He’s been watching too much HGTV,” I answer. “That and his baby girl went and got married.”
“Don’t blame me,” Harper says. “What are you thinking?”
That’s a loaded question. I’m thinking about how to win back my woman, but no way am I telling them that yet.
I choose my words carefully. “That it sounds like a viable option. Viable-ish. And I don’t have a job or focus right now. Why not hop on board?”
I don’t know how to read Harper’s stare, but it’s definitely the kind that comes before something I won’t want to hear. “What happens if it fails?”
“Who says it will? And if it does, I’ll just move on.” I shrug. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I just don’t want to see you going dark again,” Harper says.
“Going dark? Doesn’t sound like me.” I pull at the collar of my shirt. “What is it y’all always say—I’m a big ball of sunshine?”
“You usually are,” Harper says. “But when you’re not, that’s when you go dark. Which can actually be something that goes along with ADHD and—”
I hold up a hand. “That’s enough of the therapy session. I’m fine. Let’s swing this focus back to Tank and his big idea.”
Harper is the reason I even got tested for ADHD. I got this niggling feeling when she talked to our family about her diagnosis, a feeling like I had questions that needed answers. But the answers I got would have helped me more as I struggled in classrooms for years. As an adult, I don’t really see it affecting much of my life, and there’s no need to psychoanalyze everything or attach my behaviors and actions to the label. It definitely doesn’t apply to this.
“I’ve got a thought.” Chase leans forward, glancing between the three of us before taking Harper’s hand.
“Just one thought?” Harper teases.
He smiles. “Maybe a few. Your dad has been kind of floating for a while. He has you guys, and don’t get me wrong, your family is amazing. But he hasn’t had anything that’s uniquely his. Not since I’ve known you.”
This observation rankles a bit coming from Chase. But he’s not an outsider since we basically adopted him when he and Harper first became friends. Often, he has insight into our family we can’t see because we’re too close. It’s only slightly irritating. It would be more irritating if he was wrong.
Chase shrugs. “Maybe taking on this project is his way of finding his own thing.”
“Yeah, but it’s still a family thing,” Collin says, shaking his head. “He bought the town for the brewery, which is something he’s doing with all of us.”
“Sure,” Chase says easily. He’s not arguing exactly, but he’s also not backing down. “It’s for the family, but it’s his idea, his initiative, his contribution.”
“What are you saying?” Collin asks, a little too antagonistically, earning him a dark look from Harper. He lightens his tone. “Sorry. I mean, what do you think we should do about this?”
“I don’t know,” Chase says. “But I’d say go easy on him. Open up your mind to the possibility.”
“Is that what you did?” Collin asks, swinging his gaze to meet mine. “You opened up your mind?”
I ignore his sarcasm. “Maybe I did. And I could really see Tank’s vision.” I also saw Lindy, but again, I’m keeping that to myself.