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Garrett


Weston and I head to meet Pop and Graham bright and early. Langford and Corbin are driving down the rest of the supplies from Misty Mountain this morning, and we want to get straight to work.

Mom packed a box full of breakfast sandwiches and a cooler of sports drinks to keep us hydrated.

After we eat, we take a look at the blueprints Graham provided.

“The stage itself won’t be that hard to put together. I had a couple of my guys come out Saturday to go ahead and level the ground and dig the holes for the support beams. The tricky part is going to be the backstage area and the roof with integrated lighting and sound system,” Graham says.

“Are these the stage dimensions?” I ask.

“Yep,” Graham answers.

“Twenty-five feet by fifteen feet by ten feet? That’s all?”

“Yeah, it’s five feet longer and wider than the original,” he says.

“Can’t we do it a little bigger? That will barely even hold a full band,” I gripe.

“No, superstar, we can’t. This isn’t a twenty-thousand-seat concert venue. It’s the Balsam Ridge community’s festival grounds. We host craft fairs and car shows,” he retorts.

“Fine, we’ll make it work,” I grumble.

“Where do we start, son?” Pop asks Graham.

“Let’s get the cement and water into the mixers. We’ll get the beams in and go from there.”

It takes us over six hours to get the supports anchored and set. There is no way we’ll have this done in time. It’s been a while since I put in a full day of work, and I guess I was a bit too optimistic about what the six of us could accomplish.

At two in the afternoon, Mom’s vehicle pulls into the gate. Leona is with her, and following close behind are Erin and Taeli.

I walk over to greet them.

“Mom, what are you doing here?” I ask as she climbs out of the driver’s seat.

“I came to help,” she says.

“Help? This is a little much for you,” I tell her.

She scoffs. “I’m not here to build. I’m here to feed the masses.”

I look back at my father and brothers.

“There aren’t any masses. It’s just us, and we don’t really have time to stop and eat,” I inform her.

She grins and pats my cheek. “Haven’t you ever heard the old saying, If you feed them, they will come? Help is on the way. Volunteers from all over the valley.”

She uses her key fob to open the hatch on her SUV, and the girls start rolling out carts full of food—a roasted pig, potato salad, macaroni and cheese, cornbread, baked beans, and banana pudding. Ten minutes later, the parking lot starts to fill with trucks, and one by one, smiling faces come piling in. Some with their own equipment in tow.

Mayor Gentry stops to shake my hand.

“We heard you fellas could use some extra hands,” he says.

“Yes, sir.”

“Let’s eat and get to work, then,” he says before taking a casserole dish from Leona and following her to one of the picnic tables.

I look to Graham, and he smirks.

“The cavalry has arrived,” I call.

Morris shows up after his classes, and Graham sends the two of us to the hardware store to exchange some joist fittings that were the wrong size.

While we’re waiting our turn at the customer service desk, he starts making faces at the pretty brunette cashier.

She waves, and he grins.

“Damn, she’s looking like a snack,” he says.

I turn to glare at him. “What the fuck did you just say?” I ask.

“What?”

“Did you just call that woman a snack?” I ask in disbelief.

“Yeah, it means she looks good enough to eat, and I’d like to sink my teeth into her,” he explains.

I smack him upside the head.

“Ouch. What was that for?”

“I’m trying to knock some damn sense and manners back into you. Stop talking like a high school mean girl. No wonder you’re single,” I tell him.

“It was a compliment,” he insists.

“No girl is going to think being called a snack is a compliment. If you like her, just talk to her like a grown-up and ask her to dinner,” I direct.

“What if she says no?” he asks.

“What if she says yes? You won’t know till you ask. Like a gentleman,” I stress.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure it’s easy for you to ask out any woman you want,” he grumbles.

The boy is a looker. He’s the baby, and he inherited the best traits from each of us. He has Langford’s brains, Corbin’s brawn, Graham’s height, Weston’s sense of humor, and my dimples, but damn if we all didn’t up and leave home before we were able to pass on our confidence and teach him some common sense when it came to women.

When it’s our turn at the counter, I smile at the girl and explain what we need.

“You’re Garrett Tuttle, aren’t you?” she asks as she works on our return.

“I am.”

“I saw a video on the news of you being chased by a buffalo once. How did that turn out?” she asks.

I did an episode of WildAdventure Hunter a couple of years ago. A survivalist invites a celebrity to accompany him for a weekend in the wilderness, and a camera crew follows the two of them and films their experience. It was actually a highlight for me. I enjoyed it until a herd of buffalo ran up on our camp in the middle of the night and I had to flee for my life in my pajama pants and bare feet.

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