Page 22 of Unspoken Promises

But Santi can fuck off.

Before I can even decline the beer, my dad glances at his watch and jumps at the realization it’s time to go. “No time for beer. Gotta get to Town Hall.”

Santi steps out past Ava onto the porch, sliding a well-pressed, long-sleeved shirt over his tight white t-shirt. Why didn’t he hang out at Ava’s fully dressed?

We head to my car because my dad’s a terrible driver and my brother thinks he’s a celebrity. Santi takes the passenger seat, with Dad and Ava in the back. It’s actually nice to have a woman around, especially one with as much life in her as Ava. Between four brothers, that’s very few who’ve made it here. We’re all so consumed by our work and projects, I can count on two hands how many women have actually stayed on the ranch.

We buckle up and head out of the gates.

Ava puts the window down ever so slightly, and as we drive, the scent of Ponderosa pine makes its way into the vehicle.

“So, what is the Town Hall meeting about then?” she asks.

Santi tells the story of our genesis in this place. “When we arrived in Echo Valley, we had nothing. But we knew it was where we needed to settle because Rio and Zo needed to be near San Francisco. I came a few times to visit these miserable country boys in the city. Found this little patch of scrubland and bought it with some winnings so my brothers could keep a horse or two not too far away. Echo Valley was the nearest place I could afford anything.”

“Crazy to say,” she stares out the window, “when I went through the town on the way to yours, it seemed like a pretty well-off place. Well-kept anyway.”

We’ve poured money and effort into the town over the years. When we first rolled in, paint was peeling and weeds grew in sidewalk cracks. But we soon noticed Echo Valley is full of industrious folk and maybe it just needed some community spirit to lift it up. We brought some of thatsmall-town spunk here by gathering people at monthly Town Hall meetings.

Ava’s questions start coming, and it’s obvious she’s done plenty of digging on us. I respect a person who does their research.

“You spent your rodeo winnings just to make your brothers happy? And I understand you put all of the sales from your first thoroughbred winner into GhostEye, too?”

Santi ignores the comment because he’ll take credit for things he doesn’t deserve, but becomes strangely shy when he earns it. “Julia at Trailblazer was the first one we met here. Rio had the idea to rent out the space above her tack and feed store in exchange for manual labor.”

For years Julia gave us free internet and office space, heating and electricity. It took years of developing, failed attempts at getting seed money for our tech and millions of pots of ramen. Us brothers were able to pile every bit of cash we did earn into Monarch Hills and GhostEye, thanks to her being so generous. She paid for our first headquarters in exchange for us stacking shelves and piling hay bales.

One could say Santi and Julia were our first investors.

Santi continues to explain how in those earlier years, Julia became family, too. We had roasts together, got drunk on St. Patrick’s Day with her, and even helped her deal with her husband’s motoneuron disease; eventually, we helped her bury him. This whole town did. Echo Valley is a special place, and Town Hall has become like a family meeting once a month. We focus on what’s to be done in the town. Who needs help. Or we just shoot the shit. We started Town Hall to give back to Echo Valley, but truth be told, I don’t know which way it all runs anymore.

Ava is captivated by Santi’s story. She seems to be like that every time someone talks. Consumed by the present.Overwhelmed with interest. Never simply thinking about the next thing she should say like most people do.

“Wow, this place sounds like utopia.”

I glance in the rearview mirror, and her amber eyes are lit up by the sunset. She glows.

Dad pipes up, half joking, half serious. “But is it utopia likeGilmore Girlsor utopia like a cabin in the woods, but you don’t know an axe murderer is on the way? The jury is out.”

Ava laughs. It’s more like a guffaw. It’s guttural and low and sounds like she’s actually saying ha-ha. It’s such a comical sound I feel the corner of my mouth lift.

“Dad, you’re going to love it here,” Santi mumbles. “If you stop complaining long enough to notice.”

“Te estás ganando un coscorrón.”

Ava, to my surprise, responds to Dad’s warning.

“Since I’m sitting behind him, Luis, I can smack the sass out of him for you.” She laughs at her own wit.

Santi turns to the backseat. “Hey. Whose side are you on, Ava? I thought we were cool?”

Again that silly, cute-as-hell laugh fills the car with rainbows.

“Us newbies need to stick together,” Ava says, matter of fact. “It’s hard to be new in a small town. Right, Luis?”

I see her lean over and bump her arm into my dad’s.

Santi crosses his arms next to me. “I’m hurt.” He turns around, probably to give her a wink. “I guess I’ll have to try harder.”

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