Page 19 of Every Good Thing
“One last pitch,” I agree, only for Dot’s sake. “As long as you can pitch on the move. I must get back to the kitchen.”
Dot practically dives into the driver’s seat. I give Jaye the passenger seat, slightly cleaner than the open trunk littered with hay and oats.
The ATV sputters and stalls when she turns the key. A second try produces the same disappointing result.
“We’re out of gas… just like you, Lena, babe,” Dot says.
“Shit. Another thing I forgot this morning. Sorry.”
“Let’s walk and talk,” Jaye says, sounding upbeat. “It’s a gorgeous morning.”
Our dogs greet her as she exits, and Jaye gives them enthusiastic affection, showing no intimidation over our two German shepherds. Hugo and Penelope take our sides as we stroll, barking like they have opinions on our conversation. They’d report our activities to Ben if they could, as cop loyalty surely extends to retired police dogs.
“Great dogs,” Jaye says. “I’ve always wanted one, but I travel too much.”
“Aw, wish you’d been here to see their puppies. UNCW adopted them for service training—future port security and police dogs. Well, except one—Samwise Gamgee went home with a little boy named Adam. If Ben had it his way, we’d get all the retired police dogs and horses—”
“Lena, let her do her pitch,” Dot whispers sternly beside me.
“Right, the pitch. Just don’t be too disappointed when I say no again.”
She smirks. “I appreciate the chance. You can’t blame me for falling in love with this place.”
“Before the renovation, it felt like living in a horror movie, but not after Dot and Cherry got through with it,” I chuckle. “Filming a horror movie here doesn’t fit the peaceful retreat we’ve worked so hard to create.”
“Horror isn’t your brand—I get it. But that’s exactly why Saddletree’s perfect for the story. Dr. Jim Hunter is trying to save a beautiful place and a close-knit family from dark forces. The retreat you’ve built here will be respected in the story and completely restored by the movie’s end. And—bonus—a nice side effect of opening your home to celebrities is that they’ll rave about Saddletree on social media. Your customers will be more excited than ever when you reopen.”
“Maybe, but I don’t want Saddletree synonymous with witches and battles against evil. This is a happy place, a safe place, free from darkness.”
“No place is free from darkness. That’s the first mistake people make in any good horror movie—thinking they’re safe. Complacency breeds trouble.”
Dot’s voice surprises Jaye and me, bringing our light stroll to a quick stop.
I gawk at her, stopping short of the eye roll and arm punch I want to give. She has a chance to flirt, and this is what she says? Cherry may need to give Dot a flirting tutorial.
“It’s true,” Jaye says. “The moment you relax into thinking everything’s okay is when it probably isn’t…”
My throat tightens. Everything’s okay.
“You have a tight grasp of the horror genre.”
Dot’s cheeks go brick red. This is so unbelievably cute.
I stifle a laugh. “This isn’t a horror movie. It’s my life. I can’t shut down for two months. Too many people count on me.”
“The community adores you—they’ll understand. Why wouldn’t they want Saddletree in the limelight?” Her bangs slide sideways as her head tilts. “If it helps, I’ve discussed your situation with the execs. They’ve authorized me to up the offer.”
The way Dot grips my arm makes me feel like a perp under arrest. I really don’t have time for this.
She says a number I don’t understand.
“What?” I ask, sure I didn’t hear her correctly.
“Five hundred grand. A cool half-mil, Lena, and all you have to do is…” Jaye shrugs her muscular shoulders. “Say yes to a two-month vacation.”
Hugo sits beside me and barks shortly—he doesn’t believe her either.
“Um, that’s ridiculous,” I say, ready to argue that the studio should be more fiscally responsible.
