The Husband School

“And when it does?” Owen asked the question of Jerry while the others looked embarrassed. “Will you live happily ever after?”

The mayor blushed. “I sure hope so. I want a relationship, a wife, kids, a family. The whole enchilada.”

“I don’t think it’s that easy.”

“It should be.”

“Yeah,” Owen said, “it should be, but I’ve never had much luck.”

Jack’s face fell. “Well, if you can’t get lucky, there’s no way the rest of us can.”

The conversation was fortunately interrupted by the arrival of Owen’s breakfast. Meg set three plates in front of him, one with five strips of bacon, another with three hotcakes and the third with eggs and hash browns. It was everything he’d hoped for.

He attempted to change the direction of the conversation. “I heard there’s snow—”

“Hard to believe some gal hasn’t moved herself into your place by now,” Pete declared. “Unless you’ve got someone in the city that you’re not telling us about.”

He quickly looked up to see if Meg had overheard that comment, but she seemed to have hightailed it out of there as fast as she’d delivered his meal. “It wouldn’t be a secret,” he replied as quietly as he could, “but no, there’s no one out at the place right now but me.” Not that it was anyone’s business, but that didn’t seem to stop the men’s questions.

“There will be when the TV cameras show up,” the annoyingly cheerful mayor assured him. “They’ll probably want to see a working cattle ranch. You know, for atmosphere.”

“TV cameras?” Owen picked up a slice of bacon and bit into it. Hot and crispy, it smelled and tasted great. Everything, from the buttered toast to the fried potatoes, smelled great. “What exactly is it that you have going on, Mayor?”

“We’ve just voted to bring some new business into Willing,” Jerry told him proudly. “It definitely has possibilities for population growth and prosperity.”

“He’s bringing women into town,” one of the younger ones said. The bull rider, Owen thought. “For us.”

“Beautiful women,” another interjected.

Jerry correctly interpreted the look on Owen’s face and hurried to interject. “For a TV show. A friend of mine from L.A. is looking for a remote Western location with lots of local color.”

“Local color,” Owen repeated, picking up another slice of bacon. “I assume that’s all of you?”

“What do you think?”

“About you bringing in a TV show?”

“Yes.”

“Why bother? Don’t you still get your fair share of tourists in the summer?”

“For two months, maybe three,” Jerry said. “It’s not enough.”

“Our hyperactive and ambitious mayor has come up with a way to increase the year-round population of Willing and save the town,” Gary explained. “It’s a bold plan. I’ll give him credit for that.”

“Save the town from what?” Owen hid a smile behind his coffee mug. “Plague? Pestilence? Space aliens?”

Jerry wasn’t amused. “From certain death. Literally. I have a study, with future growth projections and analyses of trends. According to the experts, Willing is going downhill.”

Owen thought about that for a long moment. He glanced out the window and didn’t see much going on. The main road into town was empty, but October was a quiet month. And winter was a quiet season. He couldn’t blame folks for worrying about the future, but Willing had never seemed to change much, let alone go downhill. It occurred to him how little time he spent here, how little he knew or cared what went on. His life was elsewhere, and had been for many years.

“What kind of trends?” Mike wanted to know. “I like to keep track of advertising prospects,” he explained.

“I have copies of the report for each one of you,” Jerry said. “As I said earlier, if we don’t start attracting businesses and families, there’s not going to be any reason to support a school. Or the money to do it. And once we have no school, we’re finished.” Jerry was obviously getting revved up.

“And the solution is a television show?”

“The solution is publicity, and lots of it.”

“And women,” Jack interjected. “Don’t forget the TV show is about women.”

“We could make this town come alive,” Jerry said. “Unless you’re willing to stand by and see your heritage evaporate, Mr. MacGregor, Willing will be a ghost town one of these days.”

Owen wasn’t sure he wanted the town to “come alive,” whatever that meant. What should have been a quick stop on the way home had turned into the possible annihilation of his descendants. “What’s wrong with things staying the way they are? And how does not having a school mean the demise of Willing?”

Jerry slid a sheaf of papers across the table. “Take a look at these and see if you think things can stay the same. As I’ve explained to the council, we need to become proactive.”

“I’ll look at them. While I eat.” Owen turned back to his meal. Because he’d said he would—and because he knew the town council would watch—he studied the report. Sure enough, doom and gloom were on the horizon, but it didn’t spoil his appetite. He methodically worked his way through his meal—and the pages of information—until all three plates were empty. Meg left him alone, as did everyone else. The illustrious members of the town council quietly discussed the weather, the price of cattle, football and the new season of Survivor.

When he was finished eating the best breakfast he’d had in years, Owen pushed the plates aside and moved his coffee closer. Across the room, Meg worked the cash register while two elderly men took turns handing her money and getting change. She looked the same as she had in high school, except her hair was shorter. She had the same warm smile he remembered being directed at him when he’d spent a lot of time hanging out in the summer kitchen, flirting with the shy girl with the big brown eyes.

“All right,” he said, turning around again to face the council. “I see your point.”

Jerry nodded. “I thought you would.”

“But I guess I can’t imagine your friends in California would be interested. We’re not exactly Bozeman.”

“That’s the hook. We’re small-town guys.” He waved his arm toward the rest of the men. “The fantasy is moving to small-town America.”

“Whose fantasy?”

“Well, people who don’t live in small towns, of course.” Jerry picked up his notepad and leafed through the pages until he found the one he wanted. “Let’s move on to preparation. We’re going to need to form some committees. Owen, can I put you down for locations? You know more about this county than anyone, and Tracy—the producer of this thing—will be looking for local color.”

“I don’t—”

“Meg!” Jerry called as she approached to clear Owen’s table of dishes.

She wiped her hands on her apron. “I am not going to answer any more ridiculous—”

“This is about catering.” Jerry flipped to another page. “Tracy will need a price list for the crew. That is, if we get the gig. Can you put something together? Meal ideas? Costs? They’re going to need to use as much local help as possible, which is good for you, since you’re the only game in town aside from Chili Dawgs, and who can eat chili dogs every night?”

Pete raised his hand. “I can.”

“I can put a menu together,” she said slowly. “What’s going on? And who’s Tracy?”

Les leaned forward in his chair. He was a likable kid and Meg felt badly that the rodeo career hadn’t worked out for him. “Jerry’s friend. Hollywood’s coming,” he said, giving Meg a shy smile.

“That’s the plan. Sit down and I’ll explain everything.” Jerry gestured toward the seat opposite him.