Ever After at Sweetheart Ranch by Emma Cane Page B

inn. There were several instances where our museum staff—­all educated specifically in museum work—­had ideas about new exhibits and they were denied or watered down, out of concern someone might be offended. History can’t be watered down!” she added forcefully.
    Everyone hastily nodded.
    â€œMost recently, I went to the board with my concerns that we shouldn’t be expanding the museum by buying the building next door—­we’ll have to raise entrance prices to afford the loan, and I’m convinced that will drive customers away. But I was ignored. That was the last straw. It was time for this citizen to step forward and take a stand.”
    Mario looked at her fondly, proudly. “I don’t blame you one bit, Rosemary. Young ­people should see this kind of example of bravery.”
    Well, it wasn’t exactly a ruthless political dictatorship she was standing up against, but . . . it was still important to be heard, and Lyndsay thought it was cute of her dad to think Mrs. Thalberg brave.
    â€œI’m sure you’ll make a great president,” Lyndsay said.
    â€œI haven’t won yet, dear. I do believe Eileen will not give up without a fight. I’ll be interested to see what she comes up with for the next softball night. I have ideas of my own . . .”
    Lyndsay and her brother exchanged a wary glance.
    Kate turned her bright lavender eyes on Lyndsay. “Okay, sorry for the subject change, but you brought us here to make an announcement. I can’t wait another moment. What is it?”
    At the head of the table, Lyndsay felt all their expectant gazes on her, and she took a deep breath, surprised to feel so excited and nervous and brimming with sheer joy. “I don’t talk about it much, but I like to write.”
    Mario gave a confused smile. “You used to do it all the time as a girl. I remember you setting up the computer in my workshop just to get away from everybody. But I thought you gave that up after high school.”
    â€œI did for a while in college, but the writing bug never went away. I kept at it, finished a book, got rejections, wrote something else, got rejections—­”
    â€œYou sent it out to publishers?” Tony asked, eyes wide. “You wrote this much and you never said anything?”
    â€œI know it’s strange, but it was the thing I did for myself. I didn’t want the pressure of ­people constantly asking me how it was going, or if I’d submitted. I can’t even talk about it much with fellow writers online, I’m that private about it.”
    â€œAnd?” Kate urged, hands clasped together as if she could no longer eat.
    â€œWhat kind of stories do you write?” Mrs. Thalberg asked at the same time.
    Kate looked disappointed, but she nodded toward the elderly lady as if her questions should come first.
    â€œI write romances, modern-­day cowboys in small Western towns. Kind of what I know,” she admitted sheepishly.
    â€œI love to read those,” Mrs. Thalberg said. “I have such a big collection, my grandchildren finally talked me into an e-­reader. Now I can take loads of books everywhere I go.”
    Lyndsay smiled into all their expectant faces. “Well, you’re going to get your chance to add mine to your collection. I sold a book.”
    Kate screamed so loud that Tony had to plug the ear closest to her. But his grin was wide and excited, and Lyndsay loved seeing her dad gasp out loud.
    â€œA book!” Kate cried, jumping up from the table to hug her. “I knew there was a reason you mentioned your writing last fall.”
    â€œI’m sorry, but I’d newly sold the book then. I just—­just couldn’t talk about it, like I’d jinx it or something. I was in such a fog. And then you two were getting back together—­I didn’t want to interrupt that, either.”
    Tony groaned. “You are an