Page 78 of Buckle Up, Buttercup

Morgan shrugs. “Knowing my mother-in-law like I do, I’m guessing she didn’t like his ideas, so she buried them. But what we came here to find out is if these ideas, or any others, are something you want to do for your home. Because, if they are, we can help. We aren’t here to impose our view of what Pine Gulch should be. We want to help you make it the best version you want. You live here. We don’t.”

She shrugs. “Headquarters has lots of money at its disposal, funds created specifically for each haven. Yours hasn’t been used since Sipan’s time, specifically because no other Keeper got far enough into any project to warrant it. You could literally use it for anything you wanted to build here…”

Lou looks at me as I thumb quickly through Sipan’s book. It’s full of drawings. I never knew Sipan—he died in a potions accident long before I was born—but some of the old timers have talked about how wonderful he was and how much the gulch loved him.

“We don’t need an answer today,” Morgan continues. “Truly, we aren’t here to lord some master plan over you, we’re not. We want to help if we can. I do believe you’d be better off with a Keeper, primarily because it’s been made clear to us that Sheriff Rygold doesn’t intend to do that job forever.”

“You got that fuckin’ right,” the big, scarred gargoyle grumbles. “This job’s gonna be the death of me, and if you keep treatin’ me with magic so I can even do the job, who knows what my face’ll look like.”

“We don’t want you being forced to do a job you don’t want,” Morgan says, her tone suddenly serious. “I’ve seen that happen to…someone else, and we don’t want it for you or anyone else.” She looks around the table. “I’m going to stop sending Keepers to you until you’ve had a chance to look through Sipan’s book. I think there might be a future where a Keeper naturally shows up, but maybe we need to focus on some of the other projects first. For now, keep his original copy; I’ve got a copy back home. I’d love it if y’all can get back to us in the next couple weeks to let us know if you’re interested in any of what he saw as the future of Pine Gulch.”

“PG or the Gulch,” I correct softly, staring at a gorgeous drawing of an elegant bar hovering over the edge of the gulf. It’s got a great view. Down below, chunky mustangs happily munch the grass that grows out of our riverbank.

“What?”

I smile up at her. “That’s how we know you’re not locals. So if you wanna start being accepted a little bit more, we’re PG or the Gulch. And we call ourselves Gulchers.”

“Gulchers,” Morgan says with a grin. “I love the sound of that.”

The next hour is full of invigorating conversations about the types of things we might want for the Gulch. Morgan and Lou share some of the high-level projects they read about in Sipan’s document.

It’s thrilling, it really is.

But some part of me just feels like I’m gonna end up with more shit on my to-do list, and I’m not sure I want that.

Hadrian

“Downtown looks amazing,” Petra says excitedly. She claps her hands as she slides her tail around my wrist. If I’d known her when she was younger, she’d have ridden around on my shoulder and wrapped her tail around my neck, resting the spade over my heart.

Sorrow fills me that I missed out on her entire life so far.

I suppose Dad missed out on it too. Technically we all did.

I had the benefit of growing up in Pine Gulch and experiencing this town and so many of her beautiful festivals. It’s part of what I love about living here.

I reach for her hand and thread it through the crook of my elbow. “Okay, little sis. You’re not old enough to drink mead, but there’s a non-alcoholic version you can enjoy tonight. Part of what happens during the Mead Cute Festival is a whiskey and mead trail that starts at the Welcome Inn and ends at the Auction House. It’s the first step in the festival with a huge dance that happens tomorrow.” I smile down at her. “You want to walk the trail with me?”

She looks shyly up at me. “What about Bluebell? It seems like we should do this with her. She’s been working on this event ever since I came to town.”

Sadness fills me. I tackled some of her to-dos this morning.

Deliver flowers to each business on Main Street. Check.

Paste flyers about the dance in every business window and drop extra flyers off at the wraith hotel and the portal station. Check.

Set up the Bodice’s table with a custom mead ordered for the occasion. Check.

But there was a lot I just couldn’t do without her guidance.

“I’d love nothing better than to do this with her, Petra, but we’re still keeping this a secret for another couple of days, right?”

She shakes her head. “I hate that you don’t feel like you can tell anyone what you are to one another. How is that gonna work? Is Uncle Jasper going to freak out?”

“Yep,” I answer honestly. “I think he will. And it’ll take me some time to convince him it’s all gonna be fine.”

“What secret are you gonna tell me today?” She bumps her hip with mine. “I’ll tell you mine. I prayed that when you met me, you’d be cool, and I’m lucky it worked out that way.”

Pulling her close, I noogie the top of her head. “I’ll tell you a secret too. I always wished I had a little sister, but I didn’t think my folks would ever do it. I always felt like I was in the way of their research and I didn’t think they’d want more children. But now I have you and not them, and it’s pretty cool.”