More importantly, it’s clear that Violetta doesn’t know about Joy. Shit, I thought everyone knew.
“Thank you, but I’m seeing someone,” Joy says, bustling around the kitchen.
I step inside, wash my hands in the sink, and then open the fridge to grab the pitcher of lemonade that Joy keeps full for me.
“Oh, that’s wonderful! But I haven’t seen you around town with anyone, do I know him? Who’s the lucky fella?”
I stand there, frozen, with the fridge door open, and catch Joy’s eye as she reaches past me. She sets down a bowl of marinating chicken in the fridge, and I see her smirk at me.
Joy turns and goes to the sink to wash her hands, then dries them on a towel hanging from the oven. “Anita.”
I press my lips together, so I don’t make a noise in the ensuing silence.
“Oh. Oh, I see. Well, I am so sorry; I had no idea. Do I know her?”
“’S’fine,” Joy says. “You probably don’t know her. She’s a pottery instructor up in Missoula.”
“Hmm. Now that you say that, I wonder if you might be able to help us,” Violetta says. “I’d love to make the cowboy auction more inclusive, but I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
Oh god, time to intervene. The last thing Joy needs is more work to do.
“What can I do for you, Violetta?” I ask.
The woman in the smart pinstripe skirt and blazer fiddles with the lanyard that hangs around her neck. Her official town employee badge dangles from it, with the words “Main Street Director” in block letters under her photo. Violetta looks suspiciously excited to see me. Uh oh.
She notices the wary look on my face and lifts a hand into the air. “Now, before you say no, just hear me out.”
I gulp down my lemonade and smile at her. “Don’t I always let you talk before I say no?”
Joy snickers, now loading the dishwasher.
Violetta is undeterred by my comment and excitedly goes on with her pitch. “Since you haven’t been here quite a year, you may not be aware that Darling Creek’s annual charity auction is coming up. Every autumn, the downtown businesses sponsor the event, which raises money for energy assistance. Some folks, as you know, need help keeping the heat on or paying rent over the winter months. The auction is the biggest source of revenue for that program. It’s a lot of fun, and we’d love it if you’d participate.”
I shove the lemonade pitcher back in the fridge, pull a foil-wrapped sandwich from the cheese drawer, and eat it over the sink. “What’s so fun about a cattle auction?” I ask with my mouth full of baloney and cheese.
Joy scoffs at my manners. “Will you sit down at the table and eat? Good lord, Casey.”
I shake my head no. “Too dirty and sweaty. Sink’s fine.”
Violetta, meanwhile, has cracked up, doubling over where she sits with a sugar cookie halfway to her mouth. “You are a hoot, Casey Hicks. Cattle auction.”
“Ma’am?” I ask, shoving another bite of sandwich in my mouth.
“I’m sorry. It’s my fault for not explaining it better. It’s not a cattle auction, dear. It’s a dating auction.”
I choke on my sandwich. Quickly fetching more lemonade, Joy pours me another glass. I take it gratefully and wash down the bits lodged in my throat while gasping in horror.
“A dating auction,” I rasp.
Violetta nods. “We have a roster of handsome local cowboys willing to put themselves out there to be bid on, and all starting bids are a hundred dollars.”
This doesn’t seem legal. “You want me to be the token cowgirl so people can donate money in exchange for sex?”
Violetta splutters. Joy howls and has to leave the room.
I guess that’s not what this is about.
The Main Street Director gazes at me like I have lost my marbles. “Sweetheart. You have cut yourself off from society for too long in the boonies. No. Listen to what I am saying. It’s a dating auction. And I don’t need you to volunteer to be on the auction block. I just need you to come and bid on a cowboy. For a date. Whatever happens after that is entirely between you and your god. And your date, of course.”