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The desk a previous employee had left in Weston’s loft wasn’t big enough for sorting Paisley’s folder, which was at least three inches thick. He requisitioned a folding table, and one of the lodge workers delivered it via golf cart. Weston hauled it up the steep steps, set it up, and began arranging papers.

Okay, there were a bunch of music acts. Surely, she’d contracted one of them by now, but which? The event was only three weeks out.

Weston messaged Tate, who forwarded a bunch of emails of correspondence he’d been looped into. That helped.

So, all the music groups could go on a stack over there. The winning group had been the Delgado Brothers from over near Saddle Springs. Hadn’t they performed last year? Weston hadn’t stayed for the live music. Why, when he had no intention of dancing? Just the thought practically gave him hives. He didn’t have the moves, and he didn’t have the woman.

That was then. This was now. Hopefully, Paisley would be back, and he’d ask her to dance with him, but she’d probably be so busy running the entire event that she’d say no.

Except… she liked him. Unless he was the cause of her running.

Weston shook his head. No, he wasn’t going down that track again. She’d gone because her mother was in critical condition. She’d left most of her stuff behind. She’d be back.

And he was going to do his level best to make sure all the pieces for the Fourth of July were in place, if he could possibly help it.

Music had been easy, but how about the other acts? Because there might be more than one of those.

He was going to figure out Paisley’s system if he died trying.

“Mom crashed again.”

Paisley struggled to absorb what Kait was saying. Wasn’t it something like two in the morning? “What do you mean, crashed?”

The bedsprings shifted as Kait perched on the edge of Paisley’s bed. “I bet Earl snuck something in for her.”

Paisley was awake now. “He’s a creep. I can’t believe he’s my father.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” Kait sighed. “He’s no prize.”

“It’s just… what did I do to deserve him?”

Kait huffed a laugh. “I don’t think that’s how it works, kid. Let’s just say Mom did you a favor keeping you apart all these years.”

“Wanting to know ate me alive. Kept me awake at night, until I learned to imagine a sweet man who’d be delighted to have a little girl with pigtails. He’d take me to the zoo and buy me cotton candy and we’d laugh at the monkeys together.”

“Nice dream.”

“It was.” Mom hadn’t been using and abusing back then. That started later, so the dream had seemed viable. A decent man might have been attracted to Mom before the drug cycles had begun. Right? Right.

Oh, look, Paisley the optimist. The kaleidoscope of pretty colors had shattered, and all the vibrant shards lay embedded and dulled with mud, waiting to stab the heel of anyone foolish enough to dance barefoot and fancy-free.

Reality sucked.

She was half tempted to take Earl’s suggestion and order DNA testing. Surely, it would prove they weren’t related… but what if it confirmed Mom’s announcement, instead?

Better not to know.

Better not to have ever asked the question, but that ship had sailed a long, long time ago.

If Paisley was truly the daughter of that repulsive man instead of someone honorable, what else had she fantasized until she believed it?

Did Jesus fit that category, too?

She shied away from the insidious thought. Of course, Jesus was real and loved her. She knew that. He’d saved her and given her new hope. Her life had totally changed. But what if that had been an illusion, too? What if she’d wanted a different life so badly, she’d fabricated it all, like she’d spun all those childhood stories about her daddy?

“We’ll go up first thing in the morning.”

Paisley forced her mind back to her sister’s Phoenix apartment. They’d go where? To the hospital to see their mother, who’d crashed. What did that even mean? “Is she okay?”