By three o’clock the next afternoon, the only place Suzanne hadn’t taken her parents was Jack’s, and given that she needed a drink pretty damn bad, she couldn’t get there soon enough. They’d met Winona at Annie’s for lunch, which had been pleasant enough. The food was amazing—cherry pie and ice cream to die for—and Winona was great at conversation. Plus, her parents loved Winona’s outrageous sense of humor and her lack of give-a-fuck about polite societal norms.

Winona had taken them on a Highlights of Credence tour. It hadn’t taken very long. Then she’d driven them out to the lake. It was chilly by the water, a moderate breeze cutting through clothes and skin and bones, making Suzanne glad they’d stopped at Déjà Brew on the way for hot coffee to keep them warm. The murky-blue surface of the lake shivered beneath the ruffle of the wind, despite the mostly sunny day. Bare trees stood like frozen sentinels around the edges of the water, adding to the overall frigidity of the landscape.

Excited to be moving in to her house in the New Year, Winona took them to see the land and the progress so far. She chatted about her friends back in Chicago who were also contemplating buying land and moving and her vision for a thriving artist community. Her mother became quite animated about that. Apparently, she knew a few people who could be interested in something similar. Her father also suggested a couple of artists he knew who might be attracted to such a place, and by the time they left the lake, all four of them were talking about enough local art production to support a gallery in Credence.

It was a wonderful conversation—animated and stimulating and exciting. But therein lay the problem. Her parents were fine when there were distractions and third parties engaging them, but when it was just them, they barely said a word to each other. There wasn’t hostility. There was just…disconnection. After they’d dropped Winona back at the boardinghouse, the conversation had completely dried up.

Which was what was driving Suzanne to drink.

No way could she face the silent trip back to the ranch without some kind of legal pick-me-up. She could have one and still drive and maybe it might loosen up her parents a little. They could do the ranch tour with Grady another day.

It was cozy and welcoming inside Jack’s, like it had been last week when she and Winona had stopped in for a quick drink on their way home from Denver. And busy for a weekday afternoon. Several booths were full, and there was a line-dance class happening on the small area designated as the dance floor. Billy Ray Cyrus played on the jukebox.