tonight. Word is, if enrollment continues to decline at our elementary school, the state department of education will shut it down. That would mean bussing the kids thirty miles to a school in Painted Canyon.”
“It all goes back to what I’ve been saying. We’ve got to find ways of creating work here so families won’t have to move away,” Myka said.
“Grandma Medeiros was at the post office when Bertie told Fran what was going on. Grandma M. suggested that we all take a closer look at selling our crafts through your online store. She said that if we turned it into a cooperative, like an internet farmer’s market, it might slow the exodus.”
“That’s not far from what I’d proposed, but we’d need to be a lot more organized. We’d operate from one website and share expenses and profits proportionately, not just supplying items on consignment.”
“If that’s what you all decide to do, I can help with the details,” a familiar voice said from the other side of the screen door.
Myka spun around in her chair and saw Joshua standing there. “You scared me half to death!” she said, holding her hand over her heart.
Sophie’s eyes were like saucers, and she was breathing hard. “Me, too, guy. Wear a bell next time.”
He smiled. “Sorry, ladies,” he said, coming in. “I just stopped by to ask if you knew any local history buffs. Dad had quite a collection of books and documents. I’d like to give them away to someone who’d appreciate them,” he said. “There’s a lot of information on Silas Brooks in particular.”
“Find out anything about that will he supposedly revised? I know he left his mansion to the town, but what about all the other properties?” Sophie asked.
Joshua was going to comment when they heard a car pulling up outside, then another. Myka went to the front window. “What’s going on? There are four cars out there, including Grandma Medeiros. She never leaves the market except during lunch.”
Joshua stood behind her. “More cars are coming down the street in this direction.” He watched as people climbed out of their vehicles and came up the walk. “Something’s going on. They look like women on a mission.”
“Maybe this has to do with the cooperative Grandma Medeiros suggested,” Myka said. “Stick around, Joshua, okay? My experience is limited to a small online store, but you’ve run a business with real flesh-and-blood employees.”
Before he could answer, they heard footsteps on the porch. “Here we go,” Myka said.
She opened the door to four women she’d known most of her life, then stepped onto the porch and waited for the others who were still arriving. “Come in, everyone,” she said. “Just move the boxes aside and find places to sit.”
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