Syl popped up at the table to check on Blue’s total lack of progress getting Nita to agree to the town improvement project. Once again, Blue tried to make her understand how hopeless it was. “If I say it’s morning, she says it’s night. Every time I try to talk to her about it, I make things worse.”

Syl snitched one of Blue’s French fries and wiggled her booty as Trace Adkins launched into “Honkytonk Badonkadonk.” “You need a positive attitude. Tell her, Dean. Tell her nobody accomplishes anything without a positive attitude.”

Dean gave Blue a long, steady look. “That’s true, Syl. A positive attitude’s the key to success.”

Blue thought about the murals. Painting them would be like shedding a layer of skin—not in a good way, like after a peeling sunburn, but in a bad way, while the skin was still alive.

“You can’t give up,” Syl said. “Not when the whole town’s depending on you. You’re our last hope.”

As Syl walked away, Dean transferred an uneaten piece of broiled perch from his plate to Blue’s. “The good news is that people are so busy bugging you they’ve stopped paying much attention to me,” he said. “I finally get to eat my meals in peace.”

Not long after, Karen Ann cornered Blue in the restroom. The Barn Grill was no longer serving her alcohol, but that had only marginally improved her personality. “Mr. Hot Shit is screwin’ everybody in town behind your back, Blue. I hope you know that.”

“Sure I do. Just like I hope you know I’m screwing Ronnie behind yours.”

“Asshole.”

“Will you try to focus, Karen Ann.” Blue yanked a paper towel from the dispenser. “Your sister stole your Trans Am, not me. I’m the one who kicked your ass, remember?”

“Only because I was drunk.” She propped a hand on her scrawny hip. “Now are you going to get that old bitch to open up this town or not? Me and Ronnie want to put in a bait shop.”

“I can’t do anything. She hates me!”

“So what? I hate you, too. But that don’t mean you shouldn’t rise above it to help out other people.”

Blue shoved her wet paper towel in Karen Ann’s hands and returned to the table.

On the last day of June, Blue loaded up her painting supplies in the back of Dean’s Vanquish, backed it out of Nita’s garage, and headed to the farm. Instead of leaving Garrison, she was starting work on the dining room murals. She’d been so nervous she couldn’t eat breakfast and, with a queasy stomach, she carried everything inside. Just looking at the blank walls made her hands clammy.