Page 27 of Steeped In Problems

Kristy’s smile was like the sun through a windshield. “That’s what community is about. People care, even if they pretend not to.”

Before the moment could stretch into anything awkward, Emily piped up from her lair at the corner table. “You’re going to need at least five grand,” she called, not looking up from the screen. “If you want to cover payroll and the overdue invoices and get ahead on rent, it’s five thousand minimum. Bake sales and lemonade stands aren’t going to cut it unless you’re planning on selling them at a hundred dollars a pop.”

Tanner glanced over. Emily had that cop-detective tone, the one that made every word sound like a verdict. “You always this much fun at parties?”

She didn’t miss a beat. “Only the ones I’m being paid to attend.”

Kristy walked over, plucked a highlighter from Emily’s arsenal, and started scribbling on the legal pad. “So what’s your big idea, Corporate?”

Emily arched an eyebrow. “Get the media involved. Make it a spectacle. Use the local heroe’s angle. Get the hospital, the SAR, and the sheriff’s office. Make it impossible for people not to participate.”

“Already on it,” Kristy replied. She turned to Tanner, eyes wide. “You know the head of the hospital, right? Didn’t you save his nephew from a flood or something?”

Tanner grunted. “The kid fell in a drainage ditch. Not exactly a flood.”

She rolled her eyes again. “So? Leverage that. Get him to make the first donation. He loves press for the hospital.”

He mulled this over, unwilling to admit it was a good plan.

Kristy leaned over Emily’s shoulder, scanning the spreadsheet. “If we go viral, or at least ‘regional viral,’ and everyone brings a friend or two—plus matching donations from Erica’s network—we can maybe get close to that five grand. But we need something big for the kick-off.”

Tanner squinted at the page, then at Kristy. “You ever run a fundraiser like this before?”

She grinned. “I ran a blood drive in college and made it into a competition with the fraternity down the street. We doubled the goal and got banned from using the student center because we left the carpet full of cupcake sprinkles. So, yeah. I know how to move people.”

He huffed out a breath, not a laugh, but the closest he’d get. “Guess we’re in good hands, then.”

They all paused, the only sound the buzz of the espresso machine in idle mode. Outside, the lights from Main Street painted faint stripes on the Brave Badge’s front glass.

Tanner looked at Kristy, then at Emily, then back at the chaos of sticky notes and half-empty mugs. This wasn’t how he’d planned things. He’d never been good at asking for help, focusing more on being the one to help rather than needing it himself. But if he was going to be stuck in a storm, he was glad to have Kristy on his six.

He reached for the whiteboard, picked up a red marker, and wrote, in big block letters: “NEVER QUIT.”

Kristy laughed, then high-fived him, her hand warm and sure. Emily just nodded in approval.

For the first time in months, Tanner didn’t feel like the walls were closing in. They were just...waiting. For a fight, he might actually win.

“What about an auction with a dance after?” Kristy suggested. “The hospital has one every year, and it raises a ton of money.”

“You think we can pull one off in this short amount of time?” Tanner questioned with surprise.

Kristy nodded. “Like I said, I’m really great at making magic happen with not very much.”

“That could get you there,” Emily said in an approving tone as she stood up and stretched. “I need to take a phone call, but I’ll be back.”

Tanner and Kristy watched as Emily took off for the back door.

“Remind me, what’s the SAR team’s usual day off?” Kristy asked as she tapped a pen on the counter.

“Thursday,” Tanner told her as he turned to face her. “Why?”

“Thinking of doing a special tasting—have the guys come by, test the new menu for the bake sale, maybe get them to post onsocial media,” she said, tapping her pen on her teeth. “Word of mouth with those guys is gold.”

He nodded, hiding a grudging respect. Most people underestimated how much clout first responders had in a town like Clear Mountain. Not Kristy. She saw the angles. Sometimes, he wondered what she would’ve done if she’d stayed at the hospital. Run the place within a year, probably.

She glanced up. “Is this weird for you?”

He paused— mug halfway to the drying rack. “What?”

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