Page 70 of Call It Love

More groans followed.

“Well, whatdoyou all want to do?” she snapped, her composure cracking.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. A thought had been bubbling in my head, but I wasn’t sure if I should voice it.

Chase leaned closer. “What is it?”

“I have an idea, but…it’s different.”

He smiled, eyes warm. “Say it. Can’t be worse than a car wash.”

I took a breath. “How about a barn dance?”

No one could hear me over the conversations that had sprung up. Chase stood and put his fingers in his mouth and let out a sharp whistle that cut through the chatter. It grew quiet again. He looked at me and smiled.

I stood up as he sat down. “How about a barn dance?”

Beverly squinted into the audience. “Who said that?”

“I did.”

Beverly’s eyes zoomed in on me where I stood. “Oh.You.”

Her tone made my spine straighten. “Yes. Me.”

“I don’t think?—”

“I do,” a voice called from the back. A tall, lanky man with a coonskin cap perched on his head and a silver-streaked beard stood. He looked like a relic from the frontier. “Used to have barn dances all the time when I was a boy. Folks danced, laughed, shared food—brought the whole town together. Sounds perfect to bring that back.”

“Now, Hans, I don’t think—” Beverly began.

But she was drowned out by a chorus of support. People clapped. Others nodded. Even Mayor Sterling chimed in with a cheery, “Barn dance, barn dance!” as he tapped around on the table in front of Rich Bowen.

Beverly’s mouth opened, then closed again.

I glanced at Chase, who gave me a quiet, proud smile.

“But where would we even have it?” she asked.

“Silver Creek Farm,” Chase called out without hesitation.

There was an excited buzz spreading throughout the room.

“But what about the animals? That much noise in thewoods will scare all of my creatures!” Matilda Espey, better known as Crazy Tiller, rose to her feet with a dramatic flair.

Immediately, people began speaking behind their hands as they took in her camo jacket that covered a sequined ball gown.

Hans didn’t miss a beat. “Tillie, the only thing that scares your ‘creatures’ is a locked trashcan. If they can survive you, they can survive a little fiddle music.”

The room broke into laughter. Tillie huffed, but sat back down.

“I’ll even organize it,” I added.

Beverly’s mouth dropped open. “You will?”

I nodded. “I’ve organized several fundraisers. And I think the cause is a lovely idea. I believe in this town, and I’ll make sure it’s a success for both the community and the people it will help.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Bristol stood beside me, buffing her fingernails against her shirt as if she was bored. “I’ll be happy to help.”

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