Page 26 of Dandelion Sighs

McCoy lifted a big shoulder. “I owe you for being on kid patrol when it comes to pumpkin picking.”

“Isla’s cousin is Evander. Violet’s husband,” Jasper explained. I pictured the gruff guy next to her at the restaurant. “He also grows a lot of other things for the brewery, like raspberries and rhubarb. We get together for the harvest.”

“All of us,” McCoy added. “It’s a big party with a ton of kids, but since Isla and I are usually trying to calculate poundage for this place, we can get distracted. Uncle Jasper here is a hit with the kids.”

“It’s because my sisters say I’m a big kid myself.”

He didn’t sound bitter like I would if my brothers said the same thing. The server stopped by with our drinks.

“Pumpkins?” I lifted one of the more orange samples in my flight. “You make them into beer?”

McCoy nodded. “That’s made from Evander’s pumpkins.”

I tasted the beer. There was a nuttiness from the pumpkins, mixed with a sweetness that made me think of a crisp fall day, where the wind wasn’t plaguing a sunny day for once. “It’s delicious.”

Pride crossed his face. “Isla likes to play around, but she knows what she’s doing.” He scratched the side of his face. “How are you handling the news of the new group that wants to build in Bishop’s Bay?”

Confusion dulled my taste buds. “New place?”

Jasper frowned. “I heard rumors, but I thought they weren’t going to go through with it.”

“They weren’t going to, but I think your mom’s passing changed their minds.” His eyes filled with sympathy. “My condolences. She was an indomitable woman.”

“She was,” I echoed, alarm trickling in enough that grief was an afterthought. “What about this group?”

McCoy shifted like he was uncomfortable being the one to open my eyes to something that filled me with dread, and I hadn’t heard all the information. “Well, I heard one guy made it big in oil like a lot have done around here. He’s an avid fisherman, and he wants to build something like that lakeside resort in Devils Lake.”

Woodland? It was bigger than my family resort and had a campground attached. But they were right on the water. I gave my head a shake. “I don’t get it. Devils Lake has world-class fishing. The bay is good, but it’s not where anglers flock to.”

“They do if they want recreation, and I think that’s what this group wants to provide. Make it a party lake, sort of like what Metigoshe is known for, but with a healthy dose of fishing.”

Lake Metigoshe was gorgeous, but my dad used to complain that the kids ruined it in the summer. I assumed he meant college kids. “More like fishing as an excuse to drink and be on the lake all day.”

Instead of scoffing or brushing off my flat statement, McCoy nodded again. “Pretty much. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.” A group of guys entered, and one shouted McCoy’s name. He flashed us a regretful smile. “Excuse me.”

He left, and my stomach filled with acid. Beer shouldn’t mix with it, but I finished the pumpkin beer and downed the strawberry sour. Tart sweetness exploded on my tongue. I drained the whole glass.

Jasper’s jaw was set. “Sorry, Sheridan. I would’ve said something, but I thought it had fizzled.”

“No, It’s not your responsibility.” I should’ve kept up with the news. I should’ve been more involved in the community.

I’d only been here less than two months!

I guzzled down the pale ale. “I’ll figure something out,” I said after wiping my mouth.

“I know you will.”

Did he? Because I didn’t. I gave up my job. I moved. I went all in. And I hadn’t done enough research to know whether a big competitor was going to build on the same damn shoreline.

I could lose everything. I could end up with nothing, not even the little house I grew up in. Because there was one thing I knew: this town wasn’t big enough for two Bishop’s Bay resorts.

Jasper

“And then…” Sheridan twirled her hand in the air and listed sideways so far, I hopped out of my seat in case I had to catch her. She gave me a bleary look and frowned. “What’s going on?”

She was a cute drunk. Chatty. I’d heard about the college boyfriend who slept with a sorority girl the night before his graduation. The ex she’d dated in her mid-twenties who’d slept with a fraternity guy the night before that guy’s graduation. And then the ex she’d broken up with when her mom had died. Cocksucker Cooper was what she called him. Then she told me about her best friend, and the sadness in her voice couldn’t be hidden when she’d said they didn’t get together much anymore. Nor did she try to cover the disappointment that the distance started when she dropped out of college.

“I liked your mushroom beer.” She wasn’t slurring, but her eyes were slightly unfocused and she blinked a lot.