Command Control

“Annie,” Cindy said, her voice filled with warning as she continued to tear tickets.

“What? It explains why she bought so many tickets.”

It did, but Sadie wasn’t about to advertise that fact to Mount Pleasant’s under-eighteen set.

Annie stopped tearing and looked up at Sadie. “Jane, Logan’s wife, was my third-grade teacher. I was in her last class before she switched to teaching special-needs kindergarteners.”

“Annie, that’s enough,” Cindy said, tearing faster and faster. She was probably worried Sadie would change her mind about the five hundred tickets now that she knew Jane, Logan’s late wife, had been vying for sainthood. Another detail her twin could have mentioned.

“She sounds lovely,” Sadie said. “I’m sure you miss her.”

Cindy quickly finished tearing and held out the tickets. “Here you go. Thank you so much for supporting our raffle.”

“This town has welcomed me with open arms. I’m just happy to have a way to give back.”

Judging from the looks on their faces, neither Cindy nor Annie believed her. Sadie gathered her tickets, stuffed them in her purse and fled to the food stand before the teen said another word about Logan’s late wife.

Holding a corn dog on a stick, Sadie wandered the festival hoping to run into Logan. No such luck. But she watched the 4-H kids march down Main Street with their farm animals. Parade was not the word she’d use for the chaos created by kids leading goats down the street. The animals stopped to chew and explore everything. If it hadn’t been for the older kids bringing up the rear with the cows, they’d all probably still be there. But at seven, the crowd migrated to the stage for the raffle and Sadie followed.

The stage consisted of raised platforms. Two large lighting booms stood on either side and there were a number of speakers on stands. A wooden dance floor extended in front of the stage. Long rectangular tables, each decorated with their own theme, were scattered about the street behind the dance floor.

Hoisting her overflowing purse onto her shoulder, Sadie found a place for the big announcement. If they called one of her numbers, it might take her all night to find the matching ticket. But she liked her odds of winning a date with Logan. And standing on the dance floor surrounded by women, she felt better about her investment.

Cindy took the stage, mic in hand. Two teenage boys wearing T-shirts that read Stage Crew Mount Pleasant High Drama Department followed Cindy. Between them, they carried a large wooden container built like a book. Sadie would bet her raffle tickets the boys had helped build the bin. Everything about the Summer Festival lacked professional polish, but there was something downright sweet about how everyone in town contributed.

Part of her understood why her sister liked living here. Family had always come first for Laurel.

And here, the community was like one giant extended family. There weren’t a lot of jobs, certainly not high-paying ones, but everyone got by.

For Sadie, just getting by would never be enough. But her success came at a high price. Her relationships suffered. And soon, her career would strip away her anonymity, too.

But not today. She was still Sadie, Laurel’s sister, hoping to win a date with a handsome soldier at the town festival.

“Welcome to Summer Festival!” Cindy’s voice boomed through the PA system, echoing against the buildings that lined Main Street. “I hope you all brought your dancing shoes. Tonight, all the way from Boston, we have The Wild Bucks performing. Some of you might remember the lead singer, Trey Smith, a recent graduate of Mount Pleasant High!”

The crowd roared their approval.

“But before Trey takes the stage, we need to pick our raffle winner! The lucky ticket holder will win lunch with our local hero, U.S. Army Ranger Logan Reed. Aren’t we fortunate to have him home safe and sound on leave for our festival this year? Logan, raise your hand.”

Again the crowd screamed and cheered, turning their attention to Logan, who stood off to the right side of the stage. He’d dressed for the occasion in jeans and a white button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. She couldn’t see his feet, but Sadie guessed he’d worn his cowboy boots. And she had a feeling she wasn’t the only woman in the crowd picturing what he looked like without the clothes.

He raised his hand, but judging from the expression on his face, he wasn’t thrilled by the reception. Or maybe he was trying to keep up the “stage fright” excuse, knowing if he didn’t, Cindy would drag him up on stage.

“Before I reach into the book bin built by the high school drama club, I wanted to give you the final dollar amount raised,” Cindy continued. “This year, we made a record seven hundred and fifty-three dollars!”

Another thunderous shout of approval from the group gathered by the stage, which, Sadie noted, had seemingly doubled since Cindy had started talking. Men, women and children of all ages gathered around.

“Now for the drawing. I’ve asked Mrs. Gracel, our school librarian, to do the honors.” A young woman, probably close to Sadie’s age, climbed the makeshift stairs to the bin. Smiling at the audience, she closed her eyes and made a show of reaching her hand inside.

Only a few seconds passed before Mrs. Gracel handed over the chosen ticket, but it felt like forever. Probably because Sadie had forgotten to breathe. She wanted to win. Badly.

“And the winner is...ticket number 5218!”

The crowd fell silent while everyone checked their tickets. Sadie opened her bag, silently cursing Cindy and the raffle organizers for not issuing tickets numbered one through seven hundred and fifty-three.

“I won,” a high-pitched, clear voice announced.

Sadie looked up from her bag, expecting to see an eager young woman running to claim her prize—Logan.