Page 2

GRACE

I don't have time for egos or incompetence. We have two weeks of food, max. That's the thought running through my head as I direct volunteers at the crash site for day two of the cleanup, clipboard in hand, trying to maintain some semblance of order in this chaos.

The supply truck for the Merc was supposed to be here later today.

Now it won't be able to get through. The concrete has dried all over the road with wood, nails, screws, and bolts, making it almost impossible to even walk over, much less drive over.

There is no way of going around it, either, with steep mountain banks on both sides.

"Careful with that!" I call out as two teenage boys nearly drop a pile of metal debris. "Set it in the designated area, please."

The concrete landslide took out not just the road, but also the delivery truck with construction materials. Lumber is scattered across a quarter mile of destruction. We've managed to salvage about sixty percent of it, but the rest is buried in the concrete or went over the edge of the mountain.

In the back of my head, I'm calculating what the town has and how we will get by.

They are saying the road will take a week or two to open.

Based on supplies this morning, assuming no one panics, we can go at least a week, but not much longer.

I wish there was a way to calculate what everyone already has in their homes.

The Senior Living residents need their medications. There is a single mom who has three kids under ten, and there are a few newborns in town as well. Everyone's counting on me to figure this out.

"Hey, Grace!" Shane waves from across the site. "I've got someone who can help."

And there he is. Blaze Whatever, trailing behind Shane like a lost puppy with designer boots. He's changed into jeans and a flannel shirt that probably cost more than my monthly mortgage payment, but still looks like he stepped out of a fashion magazine's “rugged outdoorsman” spread.

Just what we need. A rock star with callouses on his soul, not his hands.

"Great," I say, not meaning it. "Put him on debris clearing."

Shane grins. "He's stronger than he looks."

"I'm right here," Blaze says, raising an eyebrow. "And I can hear you."

I hand him a pair of work gloves. "Congratulations on having functioning ears. Now make yourself useful and start loading up that green pickup over there."

He takes the gloves without complaint, which is mildly surprising. "Yes, ma'am."

"Don't call me ma'am," I snap, already turning away to check another group of volunteers.

“Maybe be a bit nicer to him. The town can use his PR, you know?” My best friend Olivia says before handing me a water, her way of making sure I stay hydrated.

For the next hour, I coordinate volunteers, document damages, and try not to think about how this disaster is freezing my entire business. No road means no deliveries. No deliveries mean no income. No income means... I push the thought away. One crisis at a time.

When I glance over at rock-clearing duty, I'm annoyed to see Blaze chatting with Jenna, who should be taking her break and resting in the shade instead of swooning over some celebrity. He's smiling and nodding as she talks. At least he's moved a decent pile of rocks.

By noon, we've done all we can at the site. The county emergency response team has finally arrived to assess the damage, so I gather my volunteers.

"Great work, everyone. The road crew will take it from here. Remember the town meeting tonight at seven."

As people disperse, I catch Shane looking at me expectantly, Blaze at his side.

"What?" I ask.

"Blaze here worked hard," Shane says pointedly.

I sigh. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Celebrity."

"It's Nelson," he says. "Blaze Nelson."

"Right." I check my watch. "I need to get back to town. Some of us have actual jobs to figure out."

Shane winces, but Blaze just nods. "Need a ride?"

"Thanks but I have my truck. And thank for the help today." I turn and walk away before either can respond.

* * *

The Mercantile is bustling when I arrive, townspeople stocking up on whatever they can get their hands on. I find Ruby behind the counter, her usual cheery smile strained around the edges.

"How bad is it?" I ask.

"Oh, we'll manage," Ruby says, ringing up a customer's purchases. "The town always does."

The town is panic buying. I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but I knew it would. It's human survival instinct.

Orville appears from the storeroom, his face like a thundercloud. "That developer is behind this. Mark my words."

"A developer caused the accident?" I raise an eyebrow. This is the first time I've heard Orville go after the developer without actual proof.

"Wouldn't put it past him," Orville grumbles. "That guy’s been sniffing around again. Offering to buy up properties for his resort nonsense."

"Orville," Ruby chides gently. "Not everything is a conspiracy."

I lean against the counter. "Have you heard anything from the county about a timeline for repairs?"

Ruby shakes her head. "They're saying two weeks minimum. Could be a month."

My stomach drops. A month. My delivery service can't survive a month of inactivity. And neither can the people who depend on it.

"I need to rework my distribution plan," I say, more to myself than them. "Figure out how to ration what we have."

"Use the back office," Ruby offers. "I've got inventory lists of what isn't on the shelves here, and I'm putting limits in place as we speak."

I spend the next two hours creating spreadsheets, making phone calls, and trying to suppress my rising panic. My laptop battery is at fifteen percent when the office door opens.

"Ruby said you'd be in here," Shane says, poking his head in. "We've got reinforcements to move supplies."

Before I can ask what he means, Blaze appears behind him, sleeves rolled up.

"You again," I say.

"Me again," he confirms. "Where do you want us?"

I close my laptop. "Ruby's handling inventory."

"Actually," Shane interjects, "Ruby asked if you could oversee the sorting. She's swamped at the register. She’s mainly calming people wanting to talk, but she isn't one to rush anyone."

I want to say no, but I can't. This is about the town, not my personal feelings about some random celebrity.

"Fine. Follow me."

In the storeroom, boxes of stock wait to be sorted. I grab a clipboard and hand Shane a box cutter.

"Canned goods on the metal shelves, dry goods on wooden shelves, and household items against the back wall."

"Got it," Shane says, then glances at his watch. "Shoot, I promised Orville I'd help set up for the meeting. Can you two handle this?"

Before I can protest, he's gone, leaving me alone with Mr. Famous.

"You sure you know how to lift a box, or is that a job for your roadies?" I ask, unable to help myself.

Blaze picks up a heavy box of canned vegetables with ease. "I worked construction summers during college. Before the roadies."

"College? Let me guess, Berklee School of Music?"

"Engineering, actually. MIT." He sets the box down on the metal shelf. "I dropped out senior year when the band got signed."

I blink, momentarily thrown. "MIT?"

"Is that so hard to believe?" He's sorting cans now, arranging them efficiently.

"Yes," I admit, then catch myself. "I mean, you don't exactly scream 'almost engineer.'"

"And what does an ‘almost engineer’ scream?"

"Less leather pants, more pocket protectors."

He laughs, and it's frustratingly genuine. "I save the leather for stage. More breathable than you'd think."

"I'll take your word for it." I hand him another box. "These go on the wooden shelves."

We work in silence for a few minutes. He's not completely hopeless, I notice. He organizes systematically, doesn't complain, and lifts the heavy stuff without hesitation. I pull out the lists I made for the people I know won't make it into town and start setting things to the side.

"So," he says eventually, "delivery service, huh? Ruby mentioned it."

"Mountain Provisions," I confirm. "I deliver groceries and essentials to people who can't easily get to town. Elderly, disabled, families without reliable transportation. Ruby was already helping the best she could, but this is more reliable."

"And with the road out..."

"I'm effectively out of business." I don't know why I'm telling him this. "And people who depend on me are in trouble."

He considers this as he breaks down an empty box. "Could you use pack animals? Horses or something?"

I snort. "This isn't the 1800s. Plus, the road isn't safe to cross until it's cleared because of the nails and other items sticking out of the concrete."

"Just brainstorming," he says, shrugging. "What about the old logging trails? Do any of them connect to the main highway?"

I pause. "They're not maintained. Not only are they dangerous, but many haven't even been looked at in the last decade...”

"But possible?"

"Theoretically. With the right vehicle." I narrow my eyes. "Why do you care?"

He meets my gaze. "Contrary to what you seem to think, I'm not actually here to make your life harder."

Something in his tone makes me look away first. "These household supplies go against the back wall."

By the time we finish, the storeroom is organized, and I've reluctantly admitted to myself that Blaze isn't entirely useless. Not that I'd tell him that.

"Thanks," I say stiffly as we exit the storeroom. "This will help Ruby."

He nods. "Town meeting's starting soon, right?"

"You're coming?"

"Shane invited me. Said I should see how a real small town operates."

"It's not a tourist attraction," I say, more sharply than intended.

"I didn't mean..." He stops himself. "Never mind. See you there."

I watch him walk away, feeling slightly guilty but not enough to apologize.

* * *

The town hall is packed by seven o’clock p.m. Mayor Orville stands at the front, trying to maintain order as voices rise in concern and frustration.

"One at a time, please!" he calls. "We need to work together!"

"What about the developer's offer?" someone calls out. "Maybe it's time to consider it. They'd fix the road."

"They’re the ones that caused this," counters a woman from the back. "No, thanks."

"You can't prove that!" someone else yells.

The argument escalates, with people taking sides. I scan the room and spot Blaze leaning against the back wall, observing quietly. Our eyes meet briefly before I look away.

Orville bangs his gavel. "Please! We need solutions, not arguments."

Before I've made a conscious decision to do so, I find myself standing.

"We take care of our own," I say, loud enough to cut through the chatter. The room quiets. "We've done it before. We'll do it again."

All eyes turn to me. I'm not usually one for public speaking, but desperation loosens my tongue.

"We don't need some developer swooping in to save us. What we need is to share what we have." I take a deep breath. "I'm proposing a garden swap and pantry share. Those with extra supplies contribute to a community pantry. Those with garden space grow extra produce. We distribute based on need."

Murmurs ripple through the crowd, some hopeful, others skeptical.

"And how do we decide who gets what?" someone calls out.

"We form a committee. Keep track of inventory. Make sure everyone gets the basics."

"That sounds like socialism," grumbles one of the old men who gathers at the diner.

"It sounds like community," I counter. "Like neighbors helping neighbors."

Orville nods approvingly. "I think Grace has a good starting point. Let's form that committee tonight."

The meeting continues, with plans taking shape. I volunteer to coordinate the pantry share, while others sign up for garden planning and inventory management. It's not perfect, but it's something.

When the meeting finally adjourns, it's past ten. I'm exhausted, and my clipboard is filled with notes and volunteer names.

Outside, the night air is cool and refreshing. I pause on the steps, taking a moment to breathe.

"That was impressive."

I turn to find Blaze loading boxes into Shane's truck. He must have been helping with cleanup while I was finishing up inside.

"What was?"

"The way you stood up in there. Rallied everyone." He closes the truck bed. "You really give a damn about this place, huh?"

I'm too tired for our usual sparring. "Someone has to."

His expression is unreadable in the dim light. For once, he doesn't have a snappy comeback.

I turn and walk away, feeling his eyes on my back. If he thinks a pair of soulful eyes and a guitar can fix what this town needs, he's in for a rude awakening.