eyes.
“All right,” he said, turning around again to face the council. “I see your point.”
Jerry nodded. “I thought you would.”
“But I guess I can’t imagine your friends in California would be interested. We’re not exactly Bozeman.”
“That’s the hook. We’re small-town guys.” He waved his arm toward the rest of the men. “The fantasy is moving to small-town America.”
“Whose fantasy?”
“Well, people who don’t live in small towns, of course.” Jerry picked up his notepad and leafed through the pages until he found the one he wanted. “Let’s move on to preparation. We’re going to need to form some committees. Owen, can I put you down for locations? You know more about this county than anyone, and Tracy—the producer of this thing—will be looking for local color.”
“I don’t—”
“Meg!” Jerry called as she approached to clear Owen’s table of dishes.
She wiped her hands on her apron. “I am not going to answer any more ridiculous—”
“This is about catering.” Jerry flipped to another page. “Tracy will need a price list for the crew. That is, if we get the gig. Can you put something together? Meal ideas? Costs? They’re going to need to use as much local help as possible, which is good for you, since you’re the only game in town aside from Chili Dawgs, and who can eat chili dogs every night?”
Pete raised his hand. “I can.”
“I can put a menu together,” she said slowly. “What’s going on? And who’s Tracy?”
Les leaned forward in his chair. He was a likable kid and Meg felt badly that the rodeo career hadn’t worked out for him. “Jerry’s friend. Hollywood’s coming,” he said, giving Meg a shy smile.
“That’s the plan. Sit down and I’ll explain everything.” Jerry gestured toward the seat opposite him.
“Okay. I have a few minutes,” she said, surprising Owen by sitting. “Before the lunch rush starts.”
Owen watched Meg’s expression change from tolerant to skeptical as the eager mayor launched into his dying-town, we-need-women-and-families spiel. He wound up with, “What do you think? Can we make it work, get our single guys fixed up with some city women?”
“Well.” Meg looked at the men gathered around the table. Except for Jerry, they were not a sophisticated group, but she clearly didn’t want to hurt their feelings. “I guess that’s up to, ah, Tracy.”
She glanced at Owen.
“Don’t look at me,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m not going on a television show.”
“Of course you’re not. I’m sure you have plenty of women already,” she agreed, which made it sound like an insult. Owen didn’t have “plenty of women,” but he wasn’t going to deny it. Let her think he slept with someone other than Boo. She didn’t need to know that he’d read War and Peace last summer and talked to his dog more than his friends.
“You’re a fine example of the Western man,” Jerry said. “We’ll need your help.”
Owen frowned at him. “I’m a what?”
“Fine example of a Western man,” Meg repeated, obviously trying not to laugh. “That’s quite a compliment.”
Owen opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again. Jerry Thompson was one strange character. Jerry scribbled something on his pad. “Can I put you on the education committee, too?”
“No.”
Jerry acted as if he hadn’t heard Owen. “We’ll drive Tracy around and you can explain the history of the place and show her some picturesque spots for dates.”
“Picturesque spots?” Meg chuckled. “Like watching bears at the dump?”
Jerry bristled. “It’s a transfer station now. Very contained.”
Gary grinned. “We conceived our oldest daughter, uh, ‘watching the bears.’ Had to get married three months after that.”
“Too much information, Petersen,” the town treasurer said.
“But romantic,” Jerry interjected.
“Well, it was at the time.” Gary looked around the table. “I’ll bet I’m not the only one who went bear watching.”
Jack blushed and hurried to his feet. “I have to get to work. I told the boss I’d be in before noon.”
“I’ll walk out with you,” Hank said. “Got to put a new transmission into a Buick. Meeting adjourned?”
Jerry reluctantly nodded. “I’ll email everyone with your committee assignments. And I have your approval for an emergency town meeting?”
There was groaning, but Owen noticed no one actually protested. Jerry continued to make notes, Meg remained in her seat and the three youngest members of the town council sat back as if they had nothing more interesting to do this morning.
“Well,” Meg said to Jerry, “you have your work cut out for you.”
“I know.”
“No offense,” she continued, glancing at the three younger men. “But when’s the last time any of you had a date?”
Les raised his hand. “Last summer. She was backpacking—”
Owen’s curiosity got the better of him. “Did you ask her out, put on a clean shirt and take her somewhere?”
“Like where?” The poor guy actually looked confused.
“To dinner,” Meg prompted. “Or to the movies.”
“Not exactly.”
“That doesn’t count as a date,” Owen said.
Jack, one of the best-looking men in the county, leaned forward. “What about blind dates? Do they count?”
“If you asked her out, put on a clean shirt and took her somewhere,” Owen repeated.
“Nope.” Jack spread his hands out. “Got nothing.”
“It’s not like there’s a lot to choose from,” Les said. “I mean, I live with my grandparents.”
“Which helps them out a lot,” Meg assured him. “They’re always telling me what a blessing you are to them.”
“Well, blessings don’t get dates. If it wasn’t for Mexican Train dominoes and satellite TV, I’d go crazy.”
Owen felt his pain.
“For heaven’s sake,” she
