Page 15 of Work It Out
Fran whacked Zandar on the arm with her order pad. He grumbled but scooted over. “What kind of food trucks?” she demanded as she slid into the booth next to him. “Because I can run a tent big enough to feed people the basics, like hamburgers and hotdogs. And there better not be anybody trying to outdo my pie.”
If living in the Midwest had taught Rayah anything, it was the power of small-town festivals. Those folks spent days at a time celebrating everything from pumpkins to duct tape. How hard could it be to lure bored families from Sedona and Flagstaff to go crystal hunting? And nothing created buzz better than a little healthy competition.
“I thought we might host a couple contests. I know the pair who brings in the largest crystal always wins a mystery prize, but we could add some cookoffs. Since it’s the second Sunday in November, we could knock the chill off with chili or barbecue, but pie’s good, too.”
Zandar read through the brochure, stroking his mustache as he scanned the short columns. “I don’t see nothin’ about the legend.”
Ah, the legend. Every year the town’s older teens and adults were randomly paired off before being sent out to comb the mountains. And every year one of those couples was supposed to fall in love and be married by the following Hunt.
Rayah wanted to snort. They’d sooner find alien porcupigs amongst the pines.
She flipped the brochure over and pointed to the portion on the back. “The legend would be the backbone of the marketing campaign. It’ll mean bending the rules for out-of-towners, of course. We can’t expect everyone to come in the night before to be paired with strangers, and the logistics would be a nightmare. Plus, half the point would be the possibility of having their chosen date ready to pop the question by Christmas.”
Zandar crossed his arms over his chest. “You saying we should get rid of the lottery?”
“Not at all,” Rayah hurried to assure him. “We’d keep the lottery as an intimate, locals-only event. Nothing would change there.”
“I don’t know,” Zandar said.
Fran swatted him again. “Oh, hush, ya old goat. It’s a good idea and you know it. The lottery can still be all about you, and the rest of us can make a little money during the Hunt.”
She turned her focus on Rayah. “Now, let’s talk promo. I like the overall look of the brochures, but leave room on the back for local businesses to buy ad space. They’ll get their names out there, and the Chamber won’t have to come up with the money to print them.” She bent over her order pad, taking notes. “I bet Jean can get Chris to take pictures and do some advertising on his social media.” Rayah froze, but Fran kept chattering. “I’ll retweet it, of course, since I have more followers.”
Rayah covered Fran’s hand with her own. When the older woman looked up, Rayah whispered, “How did you know Jake was in town?”
Fran frowned as if that was a terribly odd question. “Woody told me.”
“How did Woody know?” Woody owned the town hardware store. He shouldn’t—
Zandar cleared his throat. “I believe he heard it from Carlos, who heard it from Quin. I imagine he heard it from Jean.”
Fran turned to Zandar. “I’ve known that boy since he was gnawing on his own toes. Do you think he’s come in for a piece of my lemon meringue pie and a chat? No. Probably thinks he’s too important now that—”
Rayah rubbed her temple. She should’ve seen this coming. “Jake can’t have pie, and he hasn’t visited anyone.”
“But Jean said—”
Oh, she could imagine what Jean said. Rayah had promised to get him and Pierce out of dinner with Jean that first night, and the woman had been driving her straight up a wall ever since. Rayah had explained over and over why Jake couldn’t stay with her, why it was so important for him to be on property, and why he didn’t want anyone to know he was here yet.
Obviously, time well spent.
Rayah gathered her things. “I realize it’s probably too late, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone else that Jake’s here. He’d like to keep the visit quiet for now.” She pushed the pamphlet toward Zandar. “Give my proposal some thought, then give me a call. I’d love to draw some attention to the Hunt. I think it would be a crowd-pleaser and fun to share, but if it makes you uncomfortable at all, I’ll think of another way to drum up business. Now, I hate to bail on breakfast, but I need to get back.”
She had a sick actor to disappoint.
…
The last thing Rayah needed when she pulled into Explosion twenty minutes later was to find Blaine waiting for her at the door wearing his Soldier Scowl. It had to be a 101 class at Army Ranger school. With his ready smile and incessant teasing, sometimes she forgot he could kill a dude six ways to Sunday.
“I don’t want to be late for my eleven o’clock.” She jogged up the steps. “Any chance whatever has your panties in a knot can wait?”
“No.”
Rayah froze, hand on the door. “‘No’? That’s it, just ‘no’? No quip about my panties and fun ways to tie knots? No innuendo whatsoever?”
Scowly silence.
“Shit. Who died?”
