by Aimée Thurlo
“The books are still there, but the building’s closed,” he said. “You could ask the mayor for the keys if you want to poke though the books and reference materials.”
Joshua nodded, lost in thought. “Speaking of the mayor, any idea what Dad’s connection was to Mayor Allen?”
“I didn’t know there was one,” Daniel said.
“Something was going on. I found a lot of emails back and forth between them. I haven’t had a chance to read through them yet, but I got the impression that Dad was working for him, some kind of local research, I think.”
“Wish I could tell you more, but this is the first I’ve heard of it,” Daniel said, casually straddling one of the chairs. “Your dad would come into the store once a week or so, and he and Grandma would go into the office and talk over coffee. You might ask her if she knows what was going on. She knows everyone’s secrets.”
Josh smiled. “That’s because it’s so easy to talk to her.”
Daniel nodded, then sat for a while, looking around the room at the books, the carved wooden animals on the windowsill and, basically, everywhere but at Josh.
“Okay, Daniel, you finally gonna tell me what’s on your mind? You don’t generally walk away from your work like this in the middle of the day.”
Daniel expelled his breath in a hiss. “Yeah, okay, you got me. I need a favor, actually.”
“Whatever you need, consider it done.”
“It’s about Betty...” He paused, looked down at a stack of old newspapers for a minute, then continued. “She was really antsy at the store the other day, looking behind her, clenching her fists and jumping at the slightest sound. She’s afraid of something, and if she’s in trouble, I want to help.”
“If she’s in trouble, Will’s bound to know and he’ll handle it. He watches over the women in his family. Too much, at least with Myka.”
“Will may be in the dark about this. Betty tries to protect him, too. I remember back in June when she got into a hassle at Jerry’s Hardware over an unpaid bill. Jerry was giving her a hard time, so I stepped in and calmed things down. On the way out she made me promise not to tell Will. She didn’t want him to know she was short on cash, and she thought it would only add to his stress.”
“Will’s a proud, angry man and if he ever finds out you kept this from him, he’s going to be pissed.”
“Tough. I did what I had to do. No regrets.”
Joshua didn’t want to argue the point, but his gut told him that Daniel had made a big mistake not telling Will.
“I’m doing some work for Betty, so I’ll keep my eyes open and try to figure out what’s got her on edge,” Joshua said, then gave Daniel a long look. “Sounds to me like you still have a thing for her.”
“Not anymore. I’m just a friend.” Daniel met his gaze. “Like you and Myka.”
Joshua nodded slowly.
* * *
IT WAS CLOSE TO five and, alone again, Myka sat at the kitchen table and finished a peanut butter and apricot jam sandwich.
She was just about to fix herself a second one when Sophie knocked on the back door, opening it partially in the process.
“Okay to come in?” she asked.
“Of course.”
“I wasn’t sure if Joshua had come back or not, now that everyone’s gone.”
“He left around one. I think Daniel’s over at his place right now.”
“So what’s going on between you two? Give me all the juicy details,” she said in a conspiratorial tone.
Myka chuckled. “There’s nothing going on.”
Sophie shook her head. “I saw you two outside earlier, and you were kissing. Looked kinda romantic to me.”
Myka sighed. She should have known. In Independence, everyone knew everyone else’s business—especially when they lived next door to each other.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone, but I had to come over and tell you that I approve wholeheartedly.”
Myka laughed. “You do, do you?”
“Myka, girl, you need something more in your life than your sheep, yarns and managing an online store. You deserve it. Have fun and stop overthinking things.”
“You know that Joshua will be leaving as soon as he can, right?”
“Yeah, sure, but so what? He’s here now.”
Myka shook her head. “Flings aren’t for me.”
“You want marriage?”
“What? No! That’s not what I meant.”
“So why not enjoy the moments you have together like you did today? Later on, when you find someone new, you’ll have a baseline for comparisons.”
“Come on, Soph,” she said, laughing. “It’s not like I’m buying laundry detergent.”
Sophie winked. “True, but a little comparison shopping never hurts,” she said, then added, “plus, it’s fun.”
“Forget it,” Myka said. “Changing the subject, would you like a sandwich? I’m still hungry.”
“Nah, you go ahead. I have to go back home. I just came by to warn you. Bertie heard that Mayor Allen will have more bad news for us at the town hall meeting tonight. Word is, if enrollment continues to decline at our elementary school, the state department of education will shut it down. That would mean bussing the kids thirty miles to a school in Painted Canyon.”
“It all goes back to what I’ve been saying. We’ve got to find ways of creating work here so families won’t have to move away,” Myka said.
“Grandma Medeiros was at the post office when Bertie told Fran what was going on. Grandma M. suggested that we all take a closer look at selling our crafts through your online store. She said that if we turned it into a cooperative, like an internet farmer’s market, it might slow the exodus.”
“That’s not far from what I’d proposed, but we’d need to be a lot more organized. We’d operate from one website and share expenses and profits proportionately, not just supplying items on consignment.”
“If that’s what you all decide to do, I can help with the details,” a familiar voice said from the other side of the screen door.
Myka spun around in her chair and saw Joshua standing there. “You scared me half to death!” she said, holding her hand over her heart.
Sophie’s eyes were like saucers, and she was breathing hard. “Me, too, guy. Wear a bell next time.”
He smiled. “Sorry, ladies,” he said, coming in. “I just stopped by to ask if you knew any local history buffs. Dad had quite a collection of books and documents. I’d like to give them away to someone who’d appreciate them,” he said. “There’s a lot of information on Silas Brooks in particular.”
“Find out anything about that will he supposedly revised? I know he left his mansion to the town, but what about all the other properties?” Sophie asked.
Joshua was going to comment when they heard a car pulling up outside, then another. Myka went to the front window. “What’s going on? There are four cars out there, including Grandma Medeiros. She never leaves the market except during lunch.”
Joshua stood behind her. “More cars are coming down the street in this direction.” He watched as people climbed out of their vehicles and came up the walk. “Something’s going on. They look like women on a mission.”
“Maybe this has to do with the cooperative Grandma Medeiros suggested,” Myka said. “Stick around, Joshua, okay? My experience is limited to a small online store, but you’ve run a business with real flesh-and-blood employees.”
Before he could answer, they heard footsteps on the porch. “Here we go,” Myka said.
She opened the door to four women she’d known most of her life, then stepped onto the porch and waited for the others who were still arriving. “Come in, everyone,” she said. “Just move the boxes aside and find places to sit.”
Five m
inutes later, a dozen women were seated in her living room. The packing materials and boxes that had been on the sofa and chairs were stacked neatly against the wall.
“Have you heard about the problem with the elementary school?” Molly Westin asked from her perch atop the arm of the crowded sofa.
“Yes, I have,” Myka said. She and Joshua were now the only ones standing—him in the kitchen doorway.
“That’s not the worst of it,” Grandma Medeiros said. “Some of the big energy companies have sent their geologists nosing around here. If they find enough oil or gas beneath the ground to start drilling, that could be the end of our town. The ones who can will sell out in a hurry, taking the money and leaving behind those of us who aren’t lucky enough to cash out. Twenty years from now, maybe sooner, when there’s nothing left underground, all we’ll have are abandoned wells, pumps and buildings.”
“Have any of these companies actually found something to interest them here?” Myka asked.
“Not yet, but even if they don’t, we’re all going downhill fast,” Grandma said. “Unless we find a way to save this community, we might as well go home and start packing.”
Myka looked at the faces of the women crowded into her living room. Beyond the fear she could see glimmers of stubborn hope and the quiet determination that came from a lifetime of hard work.
“It’s time to build a new business here in Independence,” Grandma said.
Myka felt a new energy in the room. “If we’re going to do this, all of us have to get involved. Those who don’t have a craft can pitch in by sharing their business experience. We’ll also need everyone—from the colcha embroidery people to folks like Mr. Gomez, who do absolutely amazing straw inlay work on wood,” she said. “It’s time to think big. Halfway measures won’t be good enough anymore.”
“Mr. Gomez hasn’t been working much lately. The churches and art museums aren’t buying because their budgets are down,” Lydia Baker said. Like Myka, she processed and dyed wool, but only for her own personal use—at least till now. “I’ll talk to him and see what he could make for individual purchases. I’m sure he’ll join us—if there’s a market for his pieces. He loves Independence as much as the rest of us.”
“There are other men and women, too, who are incredibly gifted woodworkers, like Adam was,” Grandma said, looking over at Joshua, who nodded. “Maybe they could sell wood carvings, simple toys or those things people put on their lawns, like miniature windmills. Who knows? We should approach them and see if they’re interested.”
“I like that,” Myka answered. “But we all need to be aware of one thing. Doing this will mean throwing our hearts into it and working like crazy to make it pay off. Even so, we may not be able to reverse the slide. What we will do is give ourselves a fighting chance. On the internet, the world is our market.”
“You’re the only one of us who has an online shop with a following, Myka,” Grandma said. “You don’t necessarily need us, but we need you. Can a cooperative work?”
“Our crafts take different amounts of time, so I think it’s only fair to come up with a partnership formula based on our individual contributions and sales. We could each pay a percentage of our personal earnings back to the company to cover expenses, and any company profits would trickle back down based on an individual’s contribution. Those who manage the business will have to be paid by the hour, of course,” Myka said. “Once we work out the details, the entire group can vote to approve our plan.”
“Myka, you were a bookkeeper for IVA. You know how to do all that,” Robyn Jenner insisted.
“Yes, but I wasn’t the chief accountant. He set up the system and I followed it,” Myka said. “Mind you, it’s not that I can’t do it, I’ve just never done it before.”
“I can help you,” Joshua said. “A limited liability company—an LLC—is taxed like a sole proprietorship, but profits and losses appear on each member’s tax returns. The annual fees are low, at least here in New Mexico,” he said. “If the LLC takes off, you can still incorporate.”
“We need someone who can set up the bookkeeping,” Grandma Medeiros said, “and you’re it, Myka.”
Myka considered this. “If we can get enough people interested, we’ll have the volume and the varied inventory we need to expand the store. But we’ll also have to let the world know we’re here. That means advertising. Since our funds will be tight, we’ll have to become more active online and join the various social media sites to tell people about our store.”
Robyn smiled. “Hey, I worked publicity for years. I’ll tackle that side of it if you handle the bookkeeping.”
“See that?” Grandma said. “All the pieces are falling into place.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Some people won’t join up, so be prepared for that. In our last meeting, someone said we’d be turning our hobbies into full-time jobs,” Myka said.
“That was Bertie,” Robyn said, “but things are even worse now.”
“Let’s go to the town council meeting tonight and present a united front,” Grandma said. “Between now and then, we can spread the word that Myka’s found a way to save the town. Sure, it’s an exaggeration, but we need a good turnout, and I’m betting people will come out of curiosity if nothing else.”
“I agree,” Robyn said.
“Will you help us out—officially?” Myka asked Joshua. “Like a consultant.”
“I’ll do my best to get you started, but I’m not sure how long I’ll be in town,” he warned.
“Fair enough,” Myka said. “While you’re here, will you take part, including coming to the town meeting tonight? We’ll need to get everyone fired up.”
Joshua hesitated. “I’m not sure how good I’ll be with that.”
“I’ll sell the idea, but I need you there to answer business questions,” Myka said.
“All right, I’m in.”
“Okay then. Everyone pass the word,” Grandma said. “By tonight we want that town hall packed.”
After they all left, Myka dropped down on the couch. “Oh, help,” she whispered, not expecting an answer.
Joshua smiled. “You’ll do fine tonight, Myka, and I’ll be there to back you up—if you need it.” He grew serious. “But there’s one thing you haven’t considered, and it could create a problem.”
“What?”
“I’m not exactly the town’s favorite son. When I left, I’m sure lots of people cheered. Most everyone still remembers me as the punk who was always in trouble. They’re not going to trust anything I say.”
“Right now this town’s fighting for survival, and everything else has to take second place. You ran a multipartner business for several years, one large enough to deal with subcontractors and all the problems that entails. We need you... I need you.” She swallowed hard. “I know I talk brave, but there’s so much at stake. I may be in over my head.”
“Most people expanding a business feel like that at one time or another. Your first battle is against the little voice inside that says you can’t do it. If you get past that, it’ll be downhill from there,” he said.
After he left, Myka stayed by the window and watched him walk to his truck. Everything about Joshua drew her in, from his confidence to the quiet strength he brought to bear on the very things that terrified her.
She turned away from the window and sighed wistfully, thinking some dreams were better left unrealized.
CHAPTER SIX
AS JOSHUA WALKED back to his truck, he felt her gaze on him. He didn’t look back, not wanting to send the wrong signals. Myka was a blend of opposites—gentle and tough, gutsy and sweet, beautiful and...off-limits.
He climbed into the truck, put it in gear and drove off. Figuring the fresh air would help him think, he rolled the window down all the way.
Today, as he’d looke
d into the faces of the women gathered at Myka’s, he’d remembered the optimism that had filled him and his partners when they opened their architectural firm. Back then, fresh out of college, it seemed as if destiny had handed them the golden ticket. Everything they’d ever dreamed of was suddenly within reach.
Then life had cut them off at the knees. In the dark days after the economy started going downhill, they’d fought hard, combing the entire Bay Area looking for clients. Yet, in the end, nothing had helped. They’d been lucky to shut down debt free.
He wondered about Myka’s future in Independence. As much as he wanted things to turn around for the community, the odds were stacked against them. The cost of failure could be steep, too. Grief and loss had taught Myka to keep her heart safely out of reach, but she cared about Independence and the people here. That made her vulnerable.
He pushed the thought aside as he reached the stop sign where Constitution Road met up with Main Street. Main eventually became State Road 718, which led to a small ski resort and lodge up in the mountains thirty miles north. Josh had never been able to afford skiing, but he had good memories of going tubing with his high school friends. He and his dad had fished for trout at the lake countless times before that, too.
He considered going for a drive in the mountains—that had always cheered him up—but then he remembered his financial situation. No sense in wasting a half tank of gas on nostalgia.
Joshua turned left instead, heading toward downtown. His architect’s perspective drew him toward the old buildings along the street. Except for the Brooks Mansion, he’d been indifferent to the buildings while growing up. Now they each held his interest.
Josh’s cell phone rang. He came to a stop beside the curb of Hilltop Avenue and brought the phone out of his jacket pocket. The caller was Independence Insurance—his father’s insurance company.
“This is Joshua Nez,” he answered.
“Joshua, it’s Mayor Phil Allen. I’m calling on behalf of the town. I’d like to hire you to do some architectural consulting, if you’re available.”