clock chime, Myka gasped. “Oh, no! We have to go right now, Josh. The meeting is at Liza’s house and we’ll be late.”
“Wait—you’re going to a crafter’s meeting?” Betty asked, looking at Josh. “There aren’t any woodworkers there, I don’t think. It’s mostly the knitting, crocheting and weaving crowd.”
“Tonight will be different,” Myka said. “We’re going to do some serious brainstorming and try to come up with ideas on how to help Independence. The more input, the better. Why don’t you come, Betty?”
“I wish I could, but I have to get Evie home, then it’s dinner, bath and bed. Let me know what happens.”
Myka saw Betty and Evie to the door, then came back for her purse.
“What’s Betty’s story?” Joshua asked, after she’d left. “That was Tony’s kid, right?”
Myka nodded. “Betty’s had some rough times, thanks to Tony, but she and her daughter will be okay now that they’re back home,” she said, unwilling to add any more details. “Ready to go?”
* * *
WHEN THEY ARRIVED, people were in the den hovering around a table covered with inexpensive snacks—everything from pretzels to chips, salsa and iced tea.
The gathering, normally consisting of ten or twelve, was nearly double that size. Many familiar faces were present, mostly the husbands and adult children of the regulars. Liza’s sofa and two easy chairs had been supplemented by several dining room chairs and a dozen metal folding chairs borrowed from the Independence Methodist Church.
As Myka stepped into the room, Liza caught her eye then went around to the TV, the focal point of the family room.
“Time to get started, everyone,” she announced.
As a hush descended, Myka moved to stand beside Liza. “I’m glad to see you all here. Most of you know Joshua Nez,” she said and motioned to where he stood. “I’ve asked him to join us because he’s an architect and he comes up with new ideas all the time. Joshua’s also a native of Independence and knows our community.”
Several shout-out welcomes to Joshua went around the room, then Myka continued. “We’re all having a tough time getting by these days. Individually, none of us are in the position to help the community. What we need to do is pull together. A lot of you already know that I’ve got my own small internet business,” she said, and saw people nod. “Business is good, so I’ve been thinking of expanding my inventory to include a variety of crafts. I don’t have the cash to buy your pieces, but I could take them on consignment. Almost everything I’ve listed over the past months has sold within a week or less. Something like this could help everyone’s bottom line and, ultimately, the town’s economy.”
Robyn, Liza’s daughter, stood up next. She had a stately five-foot-eight frame that always commanded attention, as did her beautiful black hair and blue eyes. “Myka, what you’re proposing wouldn’t even make a dent in the town’s economy,” she said in a quiet, nonjudgmental voice.
“I’m not saying it’s a cure-all, or that we’d be rich, but we need to start somewhere. Extra money in our pockets could mean all the difference in the world to Mabel’s Coffee Shop, for example, or Shorty’s Burgers,” Myka said.
“I think it’s a good idea,” Daniel’s grandmother, Elise Medeiros, added.
“Thank you, Grandma,” Myka replied, then glanced around the room. “We have something to offer the world. Our crafts are based on Rio Grande traditions, and there’s always a market for beautiful, handcrafted things.”
“The consignment store idea is good, but we’d each have to work pretty quickly to keep things rolling,” Bertie said. “We have to think this through. Once we start making stuff to sell, it’ll no longer be just our hobby—what we do to relax or take our mind off our troubles.”
“Which means we’d be sucking all the fun out of it,” said Fran Brown, a town councillor. “Then, if we start depending on it, and it dries up...”
She didn’t have to finish the sentence. They’d all been shocked when IVA had shut its doors. Myka glanced around as a heavy silence fell over the room.
“Anytime you try something new, especially in business, there’s a risk,” Joshua said. “But from what I’ve seen of the town, doing nothing is no longer an option.”
“Time’s working against us, but let’s take a few more days to think about this,” Myka said. “Maybe someone else can come up with a better idea by the time we meet again.”
After more discussion, the gathering finally disbanded. Myka and Joshua stayed behind, answering questions and trying to help the others overcome their reluctance.
Finally ready to call it a night, she and Joshua went to the door.
“You’ve planted the seed, Myka. That’s all you can do,” Liza said.
Joshua walked beside her as they headed back to his truck. “I wanted to brainstorm, but I did most of the talking and ended up scaring them,” Myka said.
“Not everyone can greet change with open arms. Some of the people there tonight have lived their entire lives in Independence, and they want things to go back to the way they were.”
“The old days aren’t coming back,” Myka said softly.
“I know, but they’ll have to accept it before they can move on and take action.”
As they crossed the street to where he’d parked, she felt the warmth of his body close to hers. It was a welcome awareness, one that contrasted sharply with the familiar ice-cold blasts of fear and sorrow she’d lived with these past few years.
He held the door open for her. “Give them time, Myka,” Joshua advised. “Their backs are to the wall and they’re scared.”
They were driving down the street at a leisurely pace when they heard a siren behind them and saw the flashing lights of a police cruiser.
Joshua cursed and pulled over, turning off the engine.
Seeing Will behind them in the side mirror, Myka tried not to cringe. He was the last person she’d wanted to run into tonight.
“There was no stop sign back there, right?” Joshua asked.
“No. Just stay cool.” A moment later, her brother-in-law came up to the driver’s side window. Seeing Myka on the passenger side, he glared at her.
“What’s the problem, Will?” Joshua asked.
“I was going to ask the same thing,” Will said. “Did you have car trouble, Myka?”
She tried to keep her temper in check. After Tanner’s death, Will had been there for her—day or night. She knew he meant well, but this time he was going too far. “My car’s fine. Joshua’s next door now, so we decided to ride to the Spinning Wheels’ meeting together.”
He scowled at Joshua. “You taking up crochet?”
“I asked him to come,” she said, and
