An idea suddenly came to her, as if Pops were whispering the words into her ear. She grabbed her cell and texted her sisters and Penelope: Family meeting in 20. The dings of her phone indicated they’d responded. Maisie didn’t let the notifications distract her, she began awkwardly sketching with the splint in the way, her hand flowing fast over the page, her imagination coming to life before her eyes.
When she finally stopped, she looked down at the shadowed drawing. It definitely wasn’t a masterpiece, but it showed her intent. “Yeah, yeah, Pops. I get it now,” she said to herself. This whole time, she’d been following Clara and Amelia. But she needed to lead. With a smile, she hopped up and hurried to get dressed and threw her hair up in a messy bun.
Right on time, she trotted down the staircase, finding her sisters and Penelope sitting at the kitchen table, a box of Danishes in the center. Maisie ignored those and slapped the drawing down on the page.
Clara studied the piece of paper. “Not your usual beauty. What exactly am I looking at here?”
“Our barn.”
“Okay,” Clara said slowly then looked to Maisie with lifted brows. “You want to decorate it?”
The drawing depicted her favorite spot, where she’d been with Hayes. Romantic and whimsical, she’d drawn that same décor throughout the entire brewery. “We needed that last festival to make us stand out. We all know that. It’s going to hurt us and hurt big time. We needed that final push for our social media. That didn’t happen. But who’s to say we can’t bring the party here?”
Amelia took the piece of paper. “To the barn?”
“Yes,” Maisie said. “We put on a festival of our own, but make it even better. Our type of party, done our way.”
Clara gazed at her with intense focus. “Go on.”
Maisie drew in a big, deep breath, her belly filled with butterflies, and sat next to Penelope. “Okay, we share the party all over social media. We’ve got the beer, and this is our chance. We take what we’ve got that’s not already promised to the restaurants and bars here, and we serve it until it runs out. We all know this is our only shot. We either bring out the big guns or go home. We can bring in a band, set up a dance floor outside the barn or something.”
Penelope asked, “But where would you get a band on such short notice?”
Maisie didn’t even hesitate, already thinking all this through. “First, let’s aim to have the party in a week. That’ll give us the time we need to get the event out there. Second, I thought we could approach Megan.” She was Nash’s wife and owned the best bar in town, Kinky Spurs. They had an in-house band, and Maisie was pretty sure she’d agree to help out.
Silence drifted around the table. All eyes on Clara. She finally exhaled deeply and looked to Maisie with a smile. “This idea didn’t come from Luna Whittle, right?”
Maisie snorted a laugh. “No, of course not.” Well, yeah, it kind of did, but Clara in her non-believing ways didn’t have to know that. “Please. Put me out of my misery. What do you think?”
“I think”—Clara scanned the drawing again—“I think your idea is beautiful, and I can’t wait to see it in real life.”
Amelia and Penelope squealed.
“Really?” Maisie asked, bolting from the chair. “After all that’s happened, you’re actually going to let me do this?”
Clara nodded and rose. “I never said we couldn’t do things your way; you just never offered any ideas.” She gave Maisie a warm hug. “Make it happen. Let me know the date.”
When she left the room, Maisie exchanged a long look with Penelope and Amelia. “Did that just happen?” she asked softly.
Amelia nodded and kissed Maisie on the cheek. “You done good, Maisie-Moo. Let me know if you need any help on my end.” And then she was gone too.
“Pinch me,” Maisie said to Penelope. “Let me know I’m not dreaming.”
Penelope pinched Maisie’s arm. Hard.
“Ow,” Maisie gasped.
“Nope, not dreaming,” Penelope said with a sly smile, picking up her half-finished Danish off the table. “Want me to come to Kinky Spurs with you?”
Maisie considered. Maybe for the first time ever in her life, she said, “I actually think I need to do this myself.”
A half an hour later, she was doing exactly that, walking into Kinky Spurs alone. The bar on Main Street had wood paneling from floor to ceiling, with the space basically being a large rectangle bookended by two stages. One stage had the band’s instruments, the other had a mechanical bull with mats surrounding it. Reclaimed wood tables were spread out between the two stages, and the place smelled like peanuts and beer.
Behind the bar was Megan Blackshaw. She was trim, with freckles dusting her nose, wavy sandy-brown hair, and she had one crystal blue eye and the other was a warm brown. Behind her was a bright pink neon KINKY SPURS sign with large deer antlers overtop. At this time of day, it was rare there was a customer, but Maisie often did beer deliveries in the morning.
“Hi, Megan,” Maisie said, shutting the front door behind her.
Megan lifted her head from her paperwork and greeted Maisie with a kind smile. “Hey. I wasn’t expecting any deliveries today.”
“That’s actually not why I’m here,” Maisie explained, reaching the bar and sliding onto one of the metal stools. “I have a favor to ask.”
Megan placed her pen down, giving Maisie her full attention. “Hit me with it.”
“Okay, so I guess I’ll start at the beginning…” Maisie relayed every little thing that happened from the beginning of the festival to now, to how much they still needed to create buzz about the brewery. “Without this final festival, we risk another brewery standing out and having a better chance at getting a distributor.”
“And you can’t have that,” Megan agreed with a nod. “What can I do to help?”
“I wondered if I could rent your band?”
“For a party?”
Maisie nodded. “I’ve decided to throw a big barn dance at the brewery. I admit I’m not exactly sure how to do all that, but I figured getting a band is a good first step.”
Something sweet and infectious crossed Megan’s face as she tilted her head. “You know, today must be your lucky day. I happen to know how to throw a good party.”
She most certainly did. Megan wasn’t even thirty years old and she’d made her bar a huge success. Nothing in town could compete with it and no one even tried. “Is that an offer to help me with this?” Maisie asked gently.
“Of course!” Megan said. “Us boss girls in River Rock need to stick together. Not only am I sure the band will play for you, but I’ve got all morning to help you brainstorm the hell of out of this party.”
Luna’s words flowed through Maisie’s mind: Ask for help. It’s out there. Maisie managed, “Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” Megan said, smiling warmly. “Your Pops came into my bar when I first opened. He stopped in every day for a beer, and we’d talk for hours. Whatever I can do for him, and you and your sisters, I’ll do without question.” Megan strode around the bar and sat beside Maisie on the stool. “What do you have so far?”