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Quinn had responded to the unrest with hostility. Toward everyone. And that had made it hard for Rory—or anyone—to know her. She’d put her head down and tried to cozy up to her dad, get him to be proud of her, because the drama inside the house had been too much to bear.

Rory, who had always been softer-spoken, more anxious, had responded by retreating. She’d befriended Lydia Payne, and they’d gone to school in Mapleton together, and she’d spent tons of time with Lydia’s family. Dinner with them, sleepovers. Quinn didn’t blame her, really.

Then Rory had gone off to college...and come right back. She had only made it through one semester, and she hadn’t wanted to talk about whatever had happened. Quinn had been on the verge of going off to college herself and had been determined to stick it out instead of coming home because she’d wimped out. Not that she’d said that to Rory.

But it was part of their whole...schism. They just weren’t the same person, not even close. Still, since they’d both been back at the ranch, they’d leveled out a bit. Rory had found a place managing the rentals while Quinn took a managerial role in the overall financials, and that had brought the two of them a little closer. It was nice because Quinn had struggled to make friends on the ranch. Well, she struggled to make them in general.

“I don’t mean to act superior. But it’s just that in this, I actually know what I’m talking about. I know what I’m doing. I’m frustrated that some big...lunkhead of a rancher gets to come in and just say he doesn’t want to do it, and because he speaks with a certain amount of conviction, people listen. If anybody actually cared, they would know that I’m just right.”

“You always think you’re right,” Rory pointed out.

“No, Rory,” said Quinn. “I only have a fight if I think I’m right. If I know I’m right. I don’t think that this is going to hurt the community in any regard, and if we are carrying merchandise from other artisans, then it’s actually going to increase business for them. Because I believe that our store will be a destination for people up to an hour away, and there are other business models for this kind of thing that could support that. And like I said, those people wouldn’t have been coming to go to John’s anyway. He by and large supplies people on their way to the coast, people who live even more rural than we do and people who live around here. Because everybody occasionally needs a bike pump, a very specific kind of screw and an inner tube to float down the river. But that is the kind of stuff he has, and it isn’t the same customer.”

“You should’ve said that at the meeting.”

Quinn growled. “I was mad. Anyway, if he’s so worried about the community, he should be worried about us. One more year of posting in the red and we’re at risk of having to sell off chunks of acreage to the other families.”

“They’ll never actually enforce that.”

“You think, and you hope. But they could.”

“Where exactly are you going?” Rory asked, as Quinn finished putting on some blush and eyeliner, and regarded herself in the mirror.

She didn’t often wear makeup, but this seemed like it called for it.

“I’m going down to Smokey’s Tavern to see if I can find any of the cowboys that were at the meeting the other day. Because I am going to say it. I’m going to make the point. There should be guys from the ranch and collective down there, and it would be a good opportunity for me to do a little bit of outreach.”

Rory looked at her skeptically. “I should go with you.”

“Why?”

“No offense. Like really, no offense, but you are...you are...”

“Just say it, Rory.”

“You can be a little pointy. And sometimes you poke people. Even when you don’t mean to.”

That made Quinn feel just...upset. She never tried to poke anybody. She just said what needed to be said. And often, she felt she had facts and logic on her side, and people seemed to get weird about that. Like maybe she should find a way to soften the truth they didn’t want to hear, and she had never known how to do that. It had been a long-standing bit of annoyance for her.

“What?” Rory asked, staring at Quinn.

“I’m just trying to figure out what I’m supposed to be doing,” Quinn said. “Like how do you soften something like this? Am I supposed to say nice hat, you’re wrong?”

Rory threw her head back and laughed. She flung her book to the side. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt, Quinn. It wouldn’t. Let’s go together.”

Rory’s curly hair was loose and flowing, and her sister always looked effortlessly feminine and beautiful. She knew Rory had felt awkward in school—well, Rory had been awkward in school. Freckled, bespectacled, braces on her teeth, all limbs, but she was anything but awkward now. She was wearing a light yellow dress that only went down to midthigh, and Quinn knew a moment of envy for just how easy it was for Rory to be soft.

Quinn had never known how to be soft.

It had caused her a whole lot of problems in her life, but those problems weren’t exactly instructive on how to fix them.

Quinn had done her best to take her more complicated features and use them to her advantage. It was one reason going to school had been so important to her. If she could approach things from a logical, educated standpoint, it often was distancing, and made things not seem personal. In fact, Quinn found it helpful.

“Come on—let’s go,” Rory said, grabbing hold of Quinn’s arm.

Quinn looked at herself one more time. She had put her hair into two little buns, and had traded out her glasses for contacts. She had on a velvet choker and a wide-collared floral dress, and she thought she was doing the ’90s justice, and really that she looked quite pretty, if she said so herself.

She knew that men liked pretty. And soft.