Vaughn hadn’t realized he’d had so many friends. He looked around the clearing at Harmony Cabins and the many friends who’d joined him this Saturday morning to build props for Mystic Park: Jackson, the Harmony Cabins owner and newspaper publisher; Alonzo, who was getting married in eight weeks; Darius, the recently promoted managing editor of The Trinity Falls Monitor; Ean, whose law practice was expanding; and Juan Garcia, Alonzo’s deputy. They were all either cutting wood, hammering nails, or putting props together. Vaughn gulped the iced tea Audra had dropped off before leaving them alone to their “noise” as she called it. “Thanks for helping me build these set pieces.” “No problem.” Ean added another cut block of wood to the collection. They were all wearing jeans and flannel shirts, as though they’d coordinated clothing. A soft, subtle breeze floated across the clearing, carrying the scents of spring blossoms, lush grass, and rich earth. “I’m glad your ladies didn’t mind you leaving them alone for the day.”
