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“I don’t know,” Loretta says, taking on the dreamy facial expression of a true fan. “I’ve seen that boy smile at a camera. He seems to have such genuine joy in his heart when he plays. And when those kids come onto the field to get their awards before the game, he beams with pride.”

“Cameras are on. He’s great in the spotlight.” I glance out the front window and back at Loretta. “Great on the field too. That’s why he’s my quarterback on my fantasy team.”

I didn’t mean to let that slip.

“You picked him for your team?” Loretta’s eyes go momentarily wide.

“I picked his stats.”

“Hate to break it to you sugarplum, but the man and the stats go together.”

“No. They don’t. And him being on my team is top secret, confidential, classified information. Do not leak that to anyone.”

I cross my arms and give Loretta my I mean business expression.

Then I add, “Please,” because this is Loretta. And unlike Marcus Delaney, I do have manners.

Loretta makes a zipping motion across her firmly-sealed lips. “I'll be more discreet than Dolly Parton's plastic surgeon.”

I laugh. “Good.”

Jim walks down the hall into the main office where Loretta’s desk and mine fill most of the space. She’s front-facing as the receptionist. My desk is situated by the back wall, but still visible to anyone walking in.

“Cass, can you get me the weekly production report before day’s end?” Jim asks.

“Sure. I’m almost finished with it.”

“Great. I’ll look it over tonight so I’m ready for the team meeting tomorrow.”

“Did you get a chance to look at my proposal for Porch Light?” I ask.

“I did. It looks like an ambitious undertaking.”

Porch Light is my baby. The idea dawned on me last year when I was driving down one of the rural roads outside Waterford. I saw two kids walking along the fence line. Their shoes looked worn and their backpacks had probably been handed down from sibling to sibling.

That day my thoughts kept circling those two children.

My plans started as impossible “what if” scenarios. What if these families didn’t have to wade through bureaucratic red tape to get the essentials they needed? What if our community pooled our efforts to serve the people who often get overlooked?

A few weeks after I saw those two kids, I had been out to my friend Carli’s ranch for a girls’ night. On the drive home, my twin Winona and I passed several homes where the porch lights were out.

I murmured, “Porch Light,” mostly to myself.

Winona shot me a confused look and asked, “What’s that?”

I repeated myself. “Porch Light. We could be like a light on an otherwise dark road.”

I explained my ideas to Winona and she immediately lit up. Of course, if you knew my sister, that would make sense. She’s prone to effusive happiness over even the smallest things. Still, her excitement fueled me.

Over time, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that I was the person who needed to initiate an outreach program. Eventually, I approached the town council, and since then, I’ve spent countless hours refining my ideas into something far more concrete.

I’m waiting on final approval, so I shared my plans with Jim since some of the work I’ll hopefully be doing could encroach on my hours at Hearthstone.

“I know you, Cass,” Jim says. “When you put your mind to something, it shines. I’m not worried in the least as to how this will impact your work. You’re a get ’er done girl.”

“I think they want you to say woman these days,” Loretta chimes in. “Respectfully, I know you don’t mean a thing by it, Mr. Holloway. You and I are old-school. But this generation wants to be called women, not girls.”

“Sorry,” he says, correcting himself immediately. “You’re a get ’er done woman.”