Page 109 of What Remains of Grace

“Okay,” she said briskly. “Next order of business: Jenna’s going to hate this.”

“Yup,” Cole said.

“She’s going to say it’s too much work. Or that it’s embarrassing. Or that she doesn’t want to be a charity case.”

“Correct again.”

“She’s also going to say we should be focusing on lawyers, not ‘some big spectacle,’” Emmie added, complete with air quotes.

“She’s not wrong,” Cole said. “We do need the lawyer. We do need the paperwork. But we also need money. And support. And a town that understands what’s at stake. This isn’t an either/or. It’s both.”

Emmie chewed her bottom lip. “So . . . we don’t tell her yet?”

He hesitated. It went against his default setting. He liked straight lines, straight answers, clean plans. Secrets made his shoulders itch.

But then he thought of Jenna’s tired eyes. Of the way her hands had trembled when she showed them the lawsuit. Of the way she kept apologizing, as if she’d personally invented probate just to ruin everyone’s week.

“She’s carrying the legal fight,” he said slowly. “The phone calls, the meetings, the documents. If we pile a giant public event on top of that, she’ll short-circuit.”

He’d watched her spend the last three weeks hauling herself to lawyer meetings, sorting invoices, tracking contributions, doing everything she could to stay one step ahead of a man who’d vanished months ago and then come back wanting a payout.

On top of that, she was trying to run a bakery she’d never actually run before, at least not on her own. Growing up around the place wasn’t the same as being the person responsible for payroll, inventory, broken equipment, employee schedules, and every problem that landed on the counter looking for an answer.

Emmie nodded. “But if we ask for forgiveness instead of permission . . .”

“. . . she still might murder us,” he said.

“Probably,” Emmie said. “But at least she’ll be murdering us in a building she still owns.”

He couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay,” he said, “secret society it is.”

Her eyes lit up. “Ooh. I like that. The Blue Cypress Secret Society. Membership: old people with money and zero boundaries.”

“And two extremely stressed co-conspirators,” he added.

“Us,” she agreed.

They spent the next hour making a list that grew longer and more hopeful with every line.

Mrs. Cartwright – Rotary / Women’s Club crossover

Mr. Delaney – Historical Society president, lover of old buildings and bylaws

Every former employee they could track down

Vendors who owed Jenna favors

The church youth group that always ordered hot chocolate and cinnamon rolls at Christmas

The soccer moms who treated Saturday mornings here like church

The nurses from the hospital who came on their break for sugar and coffee

Emmie texted three people while they sat there and got three enthusiastic yeses in return. “This town is nosy,” she said. “And apparently extremely available.”

“Perfect,” Cole replied. “Nosy people with free time are the backbone of any successful movement.”