The Construction of Cheer - Liz Isaacson Page 0,115

Ida was far more approachable than Etta. She was also worried about him.

I’m okay, he typed out. Bishop is getting me something to eat, and I’m just going to hole up here for a while. I’m really fine. Hang one of the cowboy boots for Daddy for me, okay?

If Ace was a betting man, he’d put ten bucks down that Ida had already hung the boot, and that she’d call within the hour.

Got the boot for you already, her next text said. I’ll call you on the way home, okay?

Ace grinned at the predictability of his sister. His heart expanded too, because he knew she cared about him. Genuinely cared about him.

Just like Bishop did. He walked right into the house, no knocking or doorbell ringing, only a few minutes later, a plate laden with more food than both of them could eat.

“Here you go,” he said, putting the plate in front of Ace. “What’s playing?”

Ace hastened to pause the video again, but Bishop had already come around the desk to see.

“Holly Ann,” he said. “She’s the new chairperson. No wonder she couldn’t come.” He looked at Ace, their eyes meeting for a long moment. A lot was said there, and Ace should’ve known he wouldn’t have to explain. He’d just have to look at Bishop, show him the video, and sigh.

Ace picked up the fork Bishop had brought. “She texted to say she’d been nominated and voted in as this year’s chairperson, and I should go watch the press release.” He looked at the plate of food, noticing the extra tall pile of shredded brisket. Bishop knew him so well.

“So I ducked out to the porch to do that, and there she was, live. Live. Not on her way here. Not pulling in.” He stabbed his fork into a roll and split it open, then stacked meat onto that. “What’s so important in Three Rivers that we need a live press release?” He shook his head and swiped his utensil through the barbecue sauce Ida spent hours perfecting. With that slathered on his meat, he folded his roll over and took a bite of his sandwich.

Ace liked nothing more than smoked meat sandwiches. Fine, maybe Holly Ann. Maybe even Christmas. She loved the holidays as much as he did, and they both volunteered at the town’s six-week Christmas Festival. Ace had been looking forward to it with everything inside him.

“Can I see it?” Bishop asked.

Ace pulled the indicator back to the beginning of the video and hit play. He turned the laptop around, because he’d seen it enough to have some of it memorized already.

“This is Winn Clark with Channel Three in Three Rivers. We’re live outside the City Council chambers, where we’re expecting to hear who the chairperson for this year’s Christmas Festival will be.”

Ace rolled his eyes at the exuberance in the man’s voice. Did he honestly think this was news? Was he seriously so excited about this announcement?

“Here we go,” he said a few seconds later. “It looks like Mayor Hall is going to make the announcement.”

Pause, shuffle, mic feedback.

Ace added a fork full of pea salad to his next bite of brisket sandwich, the bright pop of the peas and the addition of mayo to the meat and barbecue sauce was a match made in heaven.

“I’m pleased to announce that long-time volunteer and small-business owner, Holly Ann Broadbent, has been appointed as this year’s Christmas Festival chairperson,” the mayor said, his voice deep and rich and rolling with plenty of Southern accent. “She recently started Three Cakes Catering, which quickly shot to the top of the review charts online, as well as our own Three Rivers Two Cents app.”

“That’s not what it’s called,” Bishop said, which was exactly Ace’s reaction. Ace had yelled some different choice words about how he had been the one to recommend Holly Ann and Three Cakes to literally everyone, in every online forum, on Two Cents itself, and to anyone who even got close to mentioning a party or get-together.

He’d gotten her all that business. He’d put her at the top of those charts, where organic visibility took over after that.

Ace wasn’t an idiot. He’d earned a business degree with an emphasis in marketing, thank you very much. He knew what it took to get a business off the ground, and the power of word-of-mouth should never be overlooked.

He’d been that mouth.

She’d still be baking in her momma’s kitchen without him.

Surprised at his bitterness, he shoved the rest of his