“Is that what you did?” Collin asks, swinging his gaze to meet mine. “You opened up your mind?”
I ignore his sarcasm. “Maybe I did. And I could really see Tank’s vision.” I also saw Lindy, but again, I’m keeping that to myself.
“Maybe you could see it because you don’t have a full-time job,” Collin says. “Or a business. Or more on your social calendar than movie nights with Tank.”
I’m not going to give into his needling. “Think what you want. I’m just giving my opinion. And my movie nights with Tank are an enviable social engagement.”
Collin sighs. “Where is this town he bought?”
I start giggling again. Collin huffs out an annoyed breath, while Chase looks amused. Harper rolls her eyes.
“Forty minutes or so away,” I answer. “It’s … it’s …”
The giggles take over, shifting into tear-inducing, gut-cramping laughter. I have to scoot back from the table and bend over, holding my stomach. Smoky, trying to fix whatever’s wrong with me, bounds over and puts his tongue in my ear.
“Spit it out, Patty,” Collin says.
I pet Smoky, wipe the tears from my eyes and look from Collin to Chase to Harper. “Drum roll, please.” None of them oblige so I start drumming on my thigh until they all look ready to toss me in the pool. “Tank purchased a town called … Sheet Cake, Texas.”
Chase, who didn’t grow up in Texas like the rest of us, looks as though his eyes are going to bug out of his head. The thing about living in this state is you just expect … strange.
Not all strange the way Austin is strange—which it totally is, like weird, hippy artist strange—but Texans do things that are bigger and often quirkier than other places. And then we fully commit. If there’s a town named after a classic cake recipe—the Texas sheet cake—of course it’s here. And proud of it!
“They have a festival, don’t they?” Harper asks, tilting her head.
“It’s their claim to fame,” I answer.
And not THAT much weirder than the Alligator Festival in Anahuac Texas, where they ring a bell every time someone traps a gator. Or the Poteet Strawberry Festival, Irving’s Zestfest, or the Wurstfest in New Braunfels.
Have I been to a disproportionate number of these festivals? Yep. But never The Sheet Cake Festival. I suspect that’s about to change.
“So, the town can’t be totally dead,” Chase says.
“Just mostly dead.” I refrain from making a Princess Bride joke because Collin anticipates it and gives me a look like Just try it and see what happens.
“We could ask Thayden to look at whatever paperwork he signed. Maybe he could find an escape clause,” Chase says.
Thayden has become the go-to lawyer for us after marrying Harper’s friend Delilah. This makes him one degree from family. I honestly feel a little embarrassed how much business we’re sending his way. I mean, not that we’re all in legal trouble. But it seems like every other day, someone is like, “better call Thayden” or “Thayden will handle it.”
I’m not sure if he’s glad or sad he met us. His bank account is probably happy.
“Patrick,” Collin says. “Could you really see this working?”
Ah, the million-dollar question.
I scoot back in my chair, gazing off at the velvety night sky as I picture the main drag of Sheet Cake. The quaint architecture and the empty—but charming—streets. The diner and Mari’s best-ever migas. I can picture myself on one of the balconies, looking down to the end of the street toward the silos, where lights have been strung up outside. I hear the faint strains of live music playing.