by Jennie Marts
“Look Mr. Scott, I understand all too well the pain of a broken heart,” Mack said, trying not to look at Jocelyn. “But holding on to a grudge really only hurts the person holding on. Isn’t there anything we can do to get you to change your mind and consider going in with us?”
Emmet pushed his hat back on his forehead as he lifted his chin. “Not a chance.”
Chapter Seven
Mack let out a sigh ten minutes later as they drove back down the pass to Harmony Creek. “That was a bust.”
Jocelyn leaned forward, seemingly undeterred by their recent failure with Emmet Scott. “I guess now we move on to Plan B and B.”
“What exactly is Plan B and B?”
She wiggled her eyebrows. “Bigger and better.”
“Great plan. But just how do you propose we accomplish it?”
“I’m not sure. I’m still thinking.” She drummed her fingers on the side of the seat. “In my world, when we want to go bigger, we either have to make the tech better or get more people to buy into the idea.”
“So the first part of that is out, because we don’t have any ‘tech.’”
“But what if we did? What if we added a photo booth for selfies with period props? Or some interactive screens that teach visitors how to do something, like churn butter?”
“No. And no way in heck. You’re totally missing the point. There were no selfies at the ranch, and we don’t do ‘props’. The idea behind the living history ranch is to show them what history was actually like. It’s not a play or dress-up, it’s supposed to depict the realities and hardships of life.”
“I get that. But…”
“No buts. I know your world revolves around tech and innovation, but technology wasn’t exactly a big part of farm life in the early 1900s. Harmony Ranch barely had electricity. Sure, there were new advancements happening in science and new inventions, but most of the rural communities were focused on feeding their families and surviving the winter. And we, the interpreters, the docents, the staff, we are the ones who make the experience ‘interactive.’ So instead of visitors watching how butter is made on a screen, we show them in person. We let them see the cow, smell the fresh cream, feel the rough timber of the wooden handle used to churn the butter. Then we let them taste it after we spread it on fresh warm bread that was baked from scratch.”
Jocelyn pressed a hand to her stomach. “Now you’re just making me hungry.”
“Well, why don’t you pull a picture of a cheeseburger up on your screen and dig in?”
She leveled him with a glare.
He laughed. “Hey, didn’t you just imply that seeing it with the ‘tech’ is just as good?”
She held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I get your point.” She gestured to the one fast food joint in Harmony Creek. “I’ll ease up on the techie stuff if you drive through that restaurant so we can get actual cheeseburgers.”
“Deal,” he said, turning on his blinker. “We just have to save a bite for Savage.”
“Done.” She pulled her wallet from her bag. “And I’m paying.”
He shook his head. “Not a chance.”
“Come on. You drove. Let me at least buy us supper.”
“Maybe next time.”
“Fine.” She slumped against the seat, but perked up after he handed her a bag of food. She pulled out a fry and popped it in her mouth as Mack pulled back onto the highway. “I can’t stop thinking about how we can get more people involved. What can we post to get more people to our event than theirs?”
She passed him his carton of fries, and he chewed one thoughtfully. “I swear I’m trying to think of something. And I’m committed to coming up with an idea that will put that video screen suggestion of yours to shame.”
“Great. This is one instance where I would love for you to actually beat me at something.”
“That’s it.” He snapped his fingers as an idea clicked. “That’s the idea.”
“I don’t get it.”
“It’s what we just did. You know how you and I like to make everything into a competition?”
She tilted her head. “You mean how I like to beat you at everything?”
He chuckled and considered arguing, but she was already making his point. “I’m going to let that one slide—for now. But everybody likes a little healthy competition. So, instead of just inviting Woodland Hills to bring their annual chili cook-off to us, we need to challenge them to a cook-off of our own. Harmony Creek against Woodland Hills—who makes the better chili?”
“That’s brilliant! I love it. But there isn’t much time to round up some stellar Harmony Creek chili makers before Saturday night.”
He shrugged, his lips twitching as he held back an elated smile and tried not to puff out his chest at her calling him brilliant. “Leave that to me. Harmony Creek normally does its own chili competition in the fall, and there are some regulars who compete every year. I’m sure I can get them to enter once they hear they have a chance to take down Woodland Hills.”
“Perfect. What can I do to help?”
“Use your social media magic to promote the heck out of the competition and then prepare for your mouth to catch on fire. I can already think of a few people from both communities who would be willing to judge. But I know how you used to love a good spicy chili, so I am selecting you to be one of the judges for the contest as well.”
“You’re on. But you have to judge too.” She rubbed her hands together. “So now we have some leads for the judges, and you think we can get the contestants—but will Emmet take the bait?”
“You bet he will.” He pulled into the ranch and up in front of Molly’s house.
Jocelyn passed him his hamburger, then took the bag as she climbed out of the truck. “I’m going to get to work on this right away. My mind is already racing with ideas of how to promote the competition. You want to come in to eat?”
“Nah. I don’t want to mess up your mojo.” He liked seeing this side of her—motivated and excited to dig into an idea. “Besides, I have an errand I need to run. But I’ll touch base with you later.”
“Sounds good.”
He watched her run up the porch steps, then turned the truck around and headed back to the highway and down the pass to Colorado Springs.
Jocelyn fell into bed hours later, exhausted but exhilarated. She’d come up with some great teasers for the event and scheduled posts to go out to all the social media channels at regular intervals over the next few days. She’d also emailed all the vendors and double-checked the times they were showing up, confirmed they had her and Mack’s cell numbers, and answered questions. Her grandmother had given her the emails for all the staff and volunteers, and Jocelyn had sent out a newsletter of sorts sharing all the latest information for the Harmony Creek Hoopla, including updates on her grandmother’s health and some of her and Mack’s new ideas.
And if all that hadn’t been enough, she’d successfully switched gears and spent an hour on a Zoom call with the marketing team from her firm brainstorming ideas for a new campaign they were working on. She felt like she’d used every brain cell she had, but she was also proud of the work she’d done and the fresh ideas she’d contributed to her team.
She was tired, but couldn’t seem to get her brain to shut off. Thoughts of the promotion and how it could change her place in the company flitted through her mind, and she imagined how she would have led the Zoom meeting if she were in charge.
She’d just fluffed her pillow and lain back down, again, when her cell phone dinged from the side table next to her bed. She picked it up and was surprised, and pleased, to see a message from Mack.
Chili cook-off is a go. I made some calls and have confirmed at least ten entrants, his message read.
Great. Now we just have to inform Emmet, she typed back.
Already did. Called him and taunted him into taking t
he bait. Woodland Hills is in. He followed his message with a winky face emoji.
Awesome. I’ll get a post written up on our page and continue the taunts. She added the emoji of the sly grinning devil face.
Perfect. He added a smiley face emoji.
By the way, I am both impressed and surprised by your proficient use of emojis.
Glad to know that I can still surprise AND impress you. Smiley face emoji wearing sunglasses.
He had no idea, she thought. She typed back, I meant I was impressed that your phone could do emojis.
He replied back with a string of random emojis. First a dinosaur, then a bowling ball, followed by a piece of cheese, then a mailbox, and finally a hamburger.
Jocelyn laughed out loud as she typed two laughing emojis with tears. Then, not to be bested by a “who could post the most random emoji’ competition, she fired back with a cactus, a taco, an umbrella, an owl, and a woman dancing the cha-cha.
A grin spread across her face in anticipation as she watched the three dots indicating he was typing. She busted out in laughter as his emojis appeared. A shark, some bacon, a helicopter, a weight lifter and a crystal ball.
Before she could find suitable material to fire back, another message appeared from him.
Good night. The sleeping emoji.
She slumped back against her pillow, the smile still spread across her face. Good night Mack.
I’m glad you’re home.
Me too.
The next morning, Jocelyn was still smiling as she grabbed her coffee and opened the front door to survey the farm in the soft light of dawn. A cool breeze caressed her cheeks as she inhaled the sweet mountain air. No smog, no sound of traffic or jackhammers or any of the construction noises that filled the sidewalks in the city.
It was no wonder her grandmother loved it here so much. It was perfect. She heard the low mournful bawl of Punkin, the Jersey cow she’d made the unfortunate decision to try to ride years ago, and an occasional whinny from one of the draft horses. Gazing out over the grassy meadow, she caught her breath as a mother deer and two tiny fawns made their way across the field, then stooped to eat the petals off one of the wild roses just starting to bloom next to Gram’s gate.
A movement caught her eye, and she turned toward the caretaker’s cottage. Savage dawdled his way around the house and up the porch steps to collapse over her feet, as if the journey across the yard had taken all he had.
“Good boy,” she said, stooping to scratch his chin.
He looked up at her with big brown adoring eyes, and his long pink tongue snuck out to lick her hand.
“I saw him leave this time,” Mack’s voice said as he appeared around the corner.
Jocelyn’s heart did a little tumble in her chest. Mack was wearing boots, taupe cotton trousers held up with brown suspenders, and a simple ivory button-up shirt. Her memories spun back to summers spent watching him on the ranch when he’d worn a similar outfit of period clothing. He was older now and had a beard, but he was so handsome he still made her pulse race—no matter the time period.
“Mornin’, Mack,” she said, raising her cup. “You want coffee?”
“I wouldn’t turn it down,” he said, following her into the house. He held a bundle of folded clothing in one arm.
Savage padded behind her, staying close to her heels as she poured Mack coffee and passed him a mug.
He set the stack of clothes on the counter to take the mug. “Sorry to do this to you, but we need your help. One of our usual volunteers called in sick, and we were hoping you could take her place.”
“Me?”
“Yep. I know it’s last minute, but it’s festival weekend and we’re slammed, so every available volunteer is already here. We’ve got back-to-back tours scheduled for this morning, so we could really use the extra hand. Plus you know the place. You used to lead tours in the summer.”
“That was years ago. I don’t remember half the facts or details.” Although there were things about the ranch she’d shared with visitors so many times, she could probably recite them in her sleep.
“Sure you do. And I’ll give you something easy—like the Whitaker house.”
The Whitaker house had always been her favorite. But she’d rarely led tours there. She’d usually helped her grandmother with the animals or done sewing or quilting demonstrations with Gram. She didn’t know much about architecture, but she could hold her own in a quilting circle.
She chewed her bottom lip. She couldn’t let Mac see her discomfort or act like she couldn’t do it. If Sophie could do it, so could she.
Eek—where had that thought come from? She’d grown up competing with Mack, but she’d never competed for him. Not that she was doing that now. She was really just helping out her grandmother.
Uh huh, keep telling yourself that, sister. “Sure. Why not?”
He pushed the clothes toward her. “I did my best picking this stuff out. I tried to remember what you used to like to wear, but you can always grab something different if these don’t work. There is a whole period clothing library in an unrestored room of one of the historic homes.”
Jocelyn held up the long navy skirt and the pale pink blouse with a high collar adorned with fragile navy lace. “These are beautiful. I’ll try them on, but they should work great.” She peered inside the high-topped lace-up leather granny boots. “And you even got my size in boots. These are perfect.”
“We have a whole bunch of them. When one of the ice skating rinks in Colorado Springs closed, they donated a bunch of their old skates to us. We took the blades off, and they made perfect boots.”
“Nice.”
“Don’t forget—no makeup or jewelry. Your grandmother is a stickler for details and keeping the experience authentic for visitors.”
“I remember.” She smiled as she rolled her eyes. “I can just hear her saying she didn’t want her volunteers looking like they worked in a saloon.” She gathered the clothes and the boots in her arms. “What time do you need me?”
“First tour starts at nine, so you have a little bit of time.” He glanced up at the wall clock. “I’m meeting the other volunteers at the Whitaker house at about twenty till for a quick orientation. I’ve got a couple of other newbies too.”
She bristled at the term “newbie,” but she had no right to. She hadn’t been home in years, and that was her own fault. “Great. I’ll see you then.”
The clothes Mack had picked fit her fairly well, and she’d spent a few extra minutes pinning her hair up into a chignon at the back of her head. She felt a little naked with no makeup and had been tempted to sneak just the smallest swipe of mascara on her lashes, but had fought the temptation to keep the integrity of the period intact.
The boots fit snugly but weren’t uncomfortable as she made her way along the trail to the Whitaker House. Mack was just starting his introductions as she slipped in alongside the other volunteers. A tiny shiver of pleasure ran down her spine at the grin that overtook his face when he spotted her.
“Each tour of the house should only take about fifteen to twenty minutes, so the visitors will move through the house quickly,” Mack explained. “Whoever is stationed at the door needs to make sure that visitors don the surgical booties over their shoes before entering. No exceptions, and no bare feet. Visitors will progress through the main floor, up the stairs to peek in the bedrooms and bath, then come down the back stairs to finish up in the kitchen where they will get a quick presentation and a small sample of blueberry cobbler. Please encourage everyone to visit our general store.”
A few hands went up, and Mack answered questions and supplied encouragement, then dispersed the volunteers to their various stations. Jocelyn waited for him to tell her where he wanted her.
A young boy of about ten stood next to his mom’s full skirts, and he waved Mack over. He looked adorable in an outfit simila
r to what Mack wore. “This is my first time,” he explained. “And I’m a little nervous.”
“That’s understandable,” Mack said, squatting down to get eye level with the boy. “Your name’s Will, right?”
The boy nodded.
“Nice to meet you, Will. I’m Mack, and I started volunteering here when I was about your age too.”
Will glanced up at his mom. “I’m homeschooled, and my mom thought me volunteering would be a good assignment for our social studies spring project.”
“That’s a neat idea. And I get how you would be a little nervous. I heard that you were new, so I put you in the guest bedroom, which is one of the easier rooms. Usually folks just poke their heads in, you give them a couple of facts, and they move on.”
Jocelyn hoped Mack had another “easy” room he could give her.
“That doesn’t sound too bad. I’ve just never done anything like this before.”
“I hear you. And it might seem a little weird at first, but it gets easier the more you do it. And I’ll tell you a little trick.”
The boy leaned in closer, and so did Jocelyn. She could use a trick, too. She was just as nervous as Will.
“If you start to get nervous, just pretend you are someone else, maybe someone you saw on television or read about in a book. And try to act like you think they would in that situation. Then if you feel dorky or silly or nervous, it’s not really you feeling that way, it’s the character you’re portraying. Make sense?”
Will shrugged. “Kinda.”
Mack patted his shoulder. “You’ve got this. Give it a try, and I’ll check in on you in a bit.”
The boy nodded and pushed his shoulders back, a determined look on his face as he followed his mother upstairs.
“I hope you’ve got a good pep talk like that for me,” Jocelyn told Mack.
“You’re plenty peppy. And you already know all this stuff.” He gestured for her to follow him into the kitchen. “I figured I’d put you in here.”
“I thought you said the person in the kitchen was doing a quick presentation.”
