Promise Canyon (Virgin River #13)(29)

He looked up from his work. He tilted his head and his eyes were large. "That's a very good idea," Jack said. "But, Melinda, it's a monumental job. How soon do you think the women can get to it?"

"Right away, I imagine."

"It could take forever," Jack pointed out.

"Nah," Mel said, shaking her head. "Not only are we a highly motivated group we expect some help from the Presbyterian Husbands." Then she grinned at him.

"I don't recall signing up for that group," Jack said.

"Comes with the territory, sweetheart. The Presbyterian Women are kinda busy with the Presbyterian Children and various jobs. Plus, it's bound to be heavy work and we'll be in need of some muscle." She reached across the bar and gave his biceps a pinch. "We'll be needing our big, strong, handsome partners."

"Why don't you ever flirt with me like that when you don't want something?"

"I'm monitoring the size of your head," she explained patiently. "This town meeting thing, Jack, I don't know..."

"What's the alternative? Just sit on the house, land and bankbook like some king, doling it out as I like? What's to prevent me from just giving Valenzuela a big raise and adding on to the bar and calling it a town hall?"

"Well, besides your ethics, nothing. But Hope was very realistic in choosing you for this job--she knew you wouldn't do anything like that unless it was in the best interest of the town. And a good option would be a small board of directors to assist--one member who's good with finances, one with legal experience, one who knows town management, et cetera. It doesn't have to be a voting board, but more of a planning committee to assist you, because she really did give you a big job."

"Hope and everyone else. I used to be a bartender. Now I'm a church deacon who practically never went to church, an unelected mayor who never had an interest in running for office, a banker and soon-to-be renovator and real estate mogul. This town needs to delegate responsibility a little better."

She laughed at him, knowing he loved all the attention. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"But see, I don't want to be king of the town purse."

"Well, you will. As soon as you're faced with six hundred wannabe kings and queens trying to jump on your throne with some far-out ideas of how to spend that money. Speaking of money, Hope very cleverly never told anyone how much there was. I'm sure it was so that she wasn't overwhelmed with requests. Are you planning to tell?"

"Don't I have to? If it's the town's money?"

"I'd talk to a lawyer with estate experience about that. Hey--Erin Foley! She's an estate attorney and the family has that renovated cabin now. Plus she's hooked up to Aiden Riordan, who has family nearby, so they'll be spending enough time here to have a vested interest!" She leaned toward him. "Jack, don't tell what the bottom line is before you know whether you absolutely have to. People get very strange when they think they have money burning a hole in their pockets."

"But it's not their money!" Jack insisted.

"That's not going to matter," said Preacher, who had been pretty quiet until now. "Haven't you ever read about those Lotto winners whose lives are destroyed by their windfall?"

"You really think that could happen here?" Jack asked. "This is a good little town!"

"Goodness and opportunity don't always meet on level ground," Mel said.

Both Jack and Preacher straightened suddenly. "Whoa," Jack said. "Is that like from the Dalai Lama or something?"

"No, that's an original Melinda Sheridan. Or, you could try this one on for size, since I bet it fits you to a T. No good deed shall go unpunished." She took a last sip of her diet cola. "I gotta go. We have patients this afternoon. Good luck with this." She whirled off her stool and headed out the door.

Jack stared after her. "Why didn't Hope make her the custodian?"

"Executor and administrator," Preacher corrected. "Personally, I think Hope's watching and getting a big laugh out of it." And with that, Preacher went back to the kitchen and Jack was left alone.

Alone with one final thought: We still haven't decided what to do with Hope's ashes. Don't we have to scatter her ashes before we start spending her money?

He thought he heard a distant, gravelly laugh.

Jack struggled with his dilemma for a few days. He tried not to talk about it too much, but if the bar was quiet and someone he knew to be a trusted friend happened upon his path, he was susceptible to spilling his guts. But the last person he expected walked in the door--Luke Riordan.

"Hey, there!" Jack said. "I've hardly seen you since Brett was born!"

Luke stuck out his hand across the bar. "Shelby sprung me loose for a beer break. Since she started back to school, I have so much quality time with Brett I guess I'm getting a little cranky."

"That a fact?" Jack asked with a laugh. "I can relate to that." He served him up a cold beer. In addition to managing six rental cabins on the river, Luke was taking care of their two-month-old son while Shelby went to college. "Cabins busy right now?" Jack asked.

"About half-full. The summer people have pretty much stopped coming through, but fishing is picking up and come next month when hunting season opens, we're booked solid. When it's groups of men making the reservations I assume fishing or hunting."