“I love you, too. Bring Ethan next time.”
“Maybe.”
My uncle shoos me away. “Stop saying maybe. Life doesn’t wait for maybes.”
It’s that final bit of advice that lingers longest in my thoughts as I drive home.
Chapter 12
Ethan
The coffee at the Laughing Fork tastes far too good. Or maybe I’ve consumed far too much this morning.
I’ve been productive in scheduling content and editing photos. A group of LGBTQ+ kids arrived last week, and I asked to tag along and document what they do. That opened a lot more agencies I could reach out to about the ranch, and after a phone call with Jesse, he sounded a bit harried about all the interest I’d sent his way.
It’s what he’s paying me for, so he can’t be mad about it.
Six weeks into this job, and I already have some major wins.
“Hi, Ethan. You’ve been working a lot. Do you ever stop?” Cathy tops up my cup and slaps a new bowl of creamers on the table.
“Well, since you’ve been here as long as me, I’ll say right back at ya.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She laughs before sitting across from me. She no longer asks permission, just does it. Not that I mind. It’s one of those small-town things I love. People become more friendly the longer they see you in their space. “Really, though. It’s a beautiful day, and you’ve been in here, chained to yourcomputer. If your job has flexible hours, maybe you should work at night and take in some fresh mountain air.”
Her words make me pause. My job is a contract with a set pay each week and certain expectations. No specific hours or markers other than to bring in business and establish a media footprint for the ranch. I’ve already exceeded expectations and have so much more planned. Perhaps Cathy is right, and I should enjoy the day. It is a weekend, after all.
“You know what? I think that’s a great idea.”
“I’ve been known to have them a time or two.” She laughs as I close my laptop and slides my bill across the table to me. Over the top of it, she drew a smiley face and wrote, ‘My treat, have a great day.’
“Thank you, Cathy. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know. I wanted to. Now go have a great weekend.”
She slides out of the booth with a wave and a smile stays glued on my face as I pack up my things. Not since I arrived and Colt showed me around have I really explored the town on my own.
After changing my laptop bag for a camera bag, I make my first stop at the library just across the street. It’s small, but the weekend programming has the place humming with activity. Kids in the corner are building slime with enthusiasm that can’t be faked.
A small hallway has a few rooms off it, and in one room, I find a group of mostly older women in a knitting circle. A younger woman is telling a story about how she talked to the owner of the Mercantile about stocking wool of a particular brand, and it might happen.
“Excuse me.” I knock, and six sets of eyes turn to me while knitting needles click. “Would you all mind if I took photos of you and what you’re working on?”
“Not at all.” I’m waved inside, and after quick introductions,they go back to knitting and talking like I’m not even there. After several minutes, I wave a thank you and continue into the library to follow the noise.
I thought the kids with slime were noisy, but this group is, well, loud. At a long table in the back of the library, a tall man with a booming, happy voice talks as he creates something that’s projected on a screen.
The four people sitting at the table all have the same materials in front of them, and after a moment, I realize they’re learning to tie flies for fishing like Colt showed me. When there’s a pause in the conversation, I ask permission to take photos.
“Absolutely,” the man booms. “You can even try it if you’d like. I have an extra kit and vise with me.”
“Really? I’m not crafty or anything. You think I can?”
“Porter, can he learn to tie a fly?”
A young man in his 20s who looks more like a video gamer than an outdoorsman snorts. “If I can learn, anyone can do it. Chris will teach you. He’s the best.”
“Okay!” I slip off my camera and take an empty seat. A man at the table walks me through the materials and equipment while Chris keeps tying his project. Once he’s finished, he slides into a seat next to me and walks me through each step of tying the fly he just made.
