Page 46 of Steeped In Problems

When the room was finally back in order—or as close as it would get—Kristy stood up, dusted off her hands, and walked to the front of the barn. She faced the crowd, what was left of it, and forced a smile.

“Thank you all for coming,” she said, voice steady. “We appreciate your support, and we hope you’ll keep helping us make this town better. There’s still coffee and dessert at the back. Please enjoy the rest of your night.”

A smattering of applause, polite and strained.

She stepped off the makeshift stage and walked straight outside.

Tanner hesitated, then followed. The night was cold and black, the sky clear with sparkling stars. It would have been the perfect, romantic setting to finally make his move and kiss her if it hadn’t been for the chaos otherwise known as Mark.

He found her leaning against the hood of her car, arms wrapped tight around her middle. He stopped a few paces away. “You okay?”

She didn’t answer right away. She looked up, tears glimmering but not falling. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

“You didn’t,” he assured her, and it was true. “You didn’t drag me anywhere. I volunteered.”

She tried to smile, but it was too hard.

He wanted to reach out, to put a hand on her shoulder, but he knew that kind of touch would only make things worse. Instead, he told her, “You did good in there. You kept it together. Most people would’ve cracked.”

She took a shaky breath. “It feels like I did.”

Tanner shook his head. “Not even close. You’re stronger than you know, Kristy.”

He watched her for another minute, making sure she was steady, then went back inside to finish what needed to be done.

The rest of the night was a blur. The guests trickled out in ones and twos, each offering Tanner a sad smile or a murmured apology. By the time the barn was empty, it felt like the whole event had never happened. Just a pile of debris and a handful of tired people holding themselves together as best they could.

Tanner counted the cash twice before he believed the total. He’d never seen money disappear so fast—one minute the thermometer was rocketing up, and the next, half the guest list was gone, leaving behind only a few crumpled twenties and a fistful of loose change. Maybe if Mark hadn’t wrecked everything, maybe if people had stayed and paid for theremaining auction items, maybe if the world just worked a little differently, they’d have made it.

He stood at the donation table, hands braced on the edge, shoulders hunched. The barn was almost empty now. Two volunteers swept the far corner, heads ducked, not talking. Kristy and Rhonda worked in silence at the dessert station, boxing up leftover cupcakes, faces pinched and tired.

He could see the mess Mark left—a splatter of whiskey, streaks from someone’s muddy boots, a crater where the auction display had been. A couple of the vases were broken, wildflowers scattered like the aftermath of a bad prom. Above it all, the fundraiser thermometer glared back at him, the red marker line stuck short of the “SURVIVAL” mark.

He didn’t hear Joe and Emily approach until Joe set a heavy hand on his shoulder. “You did good, son.”

Emily was right behind, tablet in one hand, phone in the other. She took in the wreckage with a single, clinical sweep, lips pressed tight. “I’ll update the franchise ledger,” she said, mostly to herself. “But it’s not going to be enough.”

Tanner nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He could feel the eyes of every person still in the barn—maybe not looking at him directly, but waiting for him to do something, anything, to make it better.

Joe dropped his hand and walked the room, picking up stray trash and setting chairs back in order. When he came back around, he leaned in close. “Sometimes you do everything right, and it still goes sideways. That’s not your fault.”

Tanner stared at the money on the table. “I thought we had a chance,” he whispered, voice rough. “We were so close.”

Emily looked at her tablet, fingers moving fast. “Close isn’t enough in this market,” she told him, and it wasn’t mean, just true. “But you did move the needle. If you want to try again, maybe with a different approach?—”

He shook his head. “I’m not putting Kristy through another night like this.”

Joe sighed. “She’s tougher than you think.”

Tanner almost laughed, but it came out as a grunt. “She’s tough. She’s not made of stone.”

There was a silence, the kind that never gets filled.

Emily turned, scanning the barn. Her gaze landed on Kristy, who was wiping down a table so hard it looked like she might rub the finish off. “I’m sure she’ll bounce back.”

Tanner didn’t answer. He just kept counting the money, hoping the total would magically change if he glared at it hard enough.

After a minute, Joe patted his shoulder again. “Why don’t we take a walk, son.”

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