At First Sight. Tamara Sneed

his brother’s lecture. “We’re looking at our town being controlled by a bunch of female liberals. What are they even doing here? Those girls live in the lap of luxury all of their lives and now they willingly move into a shack that hasn’t been inhabited by anything more than raccoons and snakes in over fifteen years? By any means necessary, we have got to get those girls to give us back our town before they cause irreparable damage.”

      “On that cheerful note, how about we conclude this meeting for the night and go our separate ways to think about how we’re going to swindle the Sibley sisters?” Graham said.

      “I second that,” Angus said, smiling proudly at him.

      “Wait, we’re not finished—” Boyd started.

      “All in favor say ‘aye,’” Graham said. A murmur of “ayes” followed his statement, besides Paul’s tentative “no.” Graham pounded the mayor’s gavel and announced, “This meeting is adjourned. Until next week, folks.”

      He stood, took a few moments to make certain that Velma had a ride home, avoided Angus’s attempt to get his attention, ignored Boyd’s poisonous glares and slipped out of the claustrophobic town hall.

      He breathed in the fresh night air as he strolled towards his truck parked in one of the marked spots on Main Street. The nights in Sibleyville were like nowhere else that Graham had ever been, and he had been all over the world as an executive with the conglomerate, Shoeford Industries. There was something about the mixture of dirt, mountains, green trees and water that combined to make Sibleyville smell…smell like something comforting and inviting.

      Graham stopped his thoughts. He was standing on Main Street in a town that had one stoplight, one movie theatre and where the big social event of the year was David Markham’s Fourth of July hoedown. There was nothing in Sibleyville that made him want to stay. Graham could not survive in this environment, after having spent the last fifteen years living in major cities around the world. He needed excitement, luxury, glamour. And not even Boyd could lie and say that Sibleyville had that.

      “I’m sick of you railroading me in city council meetings, young man,” came Boyd’s angry voice behind him.

      Graham inwardly groaned. He remembered his grandmother’s old phrase: Speak of the devil, and he’ll appear.

      Graham turned to face Boyd. Graham was tall at six foot two, but Boyd was probably stronger and showed no signs of allowing age to slow him down.

      Graham nodded a greeting to Boyd’s wife, Alma, who cowered behind him. As large and intimidating as her husband was, she was small and petite. Graham tried not to think about it, but he still wondered how they… Well, they had two big sons, so they must have figured out a way.

      “Good evening, Alma,” Graham said, smiling politely.

      Alma smiled shyly in response.

      Boyd grumbled, then said, abruptly, “I got your number. I know what you’re doing.”

      “What am I doing?” Graham asked, curiously.

      “You’re trying to bring your big-city ideas here. This isn’t New York City,” Boyd informed him, while drawing out “New York City” as if he was saying “Sodom and Gomorrah.” “You think you’re so special because you have a few stamps on your passport. I’ve been to all of those places, too, with the service, and there’s no place like Sibleyville, U.S.A.”

      “I’m not trying to do anything, Boyd. I just don’t think threatening the Sibley sisters is going to make them hand back the keys of the town. They either will or won’t, but it’s their decision to make.”

      Boyd’s eyes narrowed then he poked a gnarled finger in Graham’s face and warned, “I’m watching you. You get in the way of this town’s progress, and I’ll rip you a new one.”

      Boyd stomped off towards his town car. Alma smiled apologetically at Graham then raced after Boyd. Graham shook his head in disbelief then laughed. He had spent the last ten years working and living in almost every major city around the world, and the only time he had been threatened with bodily harm was by the mayor of Sibleyville.

      Chapter 4

      For one glorious moment when Charlie woke up, she thought she was back in her apartment in Los Angeles. She smiled and stretched her arms over her head. She couldn’t wait to walk to the deli down the street. She loved the tuna sandwiches there, and the canolis. Delicious cream bursting from the delicate shell, all covered in gooey chocolate. Her mouth watered just thinking about it.

      Then she felt her sweat-soaked nightgown plastered against her skin. Something else was wrong…. That smell. Usually, she got the ocean breeze, but now all she smelled was dust and…and fresh, country air. Country. Charlie gasped and opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was a large brown water stain at the corner of the white ceiling. And then she heard the sound of glass breaking followed by Kendra shrilly berating Quinn.

      Charlie placed an arm over her eyes, as it all came rushing back. The long drive to Sibleyville, Kendra and Quinn and—even worse—the gorgeous cowboy. It hadn’t been a nightmare. Charlie seriously contemplated remaining in her bed for the rest of the two weeks, but she suddenly noticed the bedspring poking into her back and rolled out. Her feet hit the hardwood floor and the dust that lay on the floor like a carpet billowed around her.

      Charlie glanced around the bedroom that she had been given by default last night. Quinn and Kendra had both claimed larger—and coincidentally cleaner—bedrooms upstairs. Charlie had been stuck with the only bedroom on the ground floor. It had one squeaking bed, an antique dresser with a cracked mirror and a window that was covered with a faded, daisy-covered sheet. She shuddered in disgust at the filth in the room. The night before, she had willed herself not to notice the dirt and had simply unrolled a sleeping bag on top of the bed and climbed in. But, now, in the sunlight that streamed unimpeded through the sheet, she saw everything. Goosebumps raised on her skin. She could not believe that she had slept in this room. It was disgusting.

      Charlie heard more screaming in the kitchen. She slipped her bare feet into her tennis shoes and stood up from the bed, groaning at the protesting ache in her back. She wiped the sleep from her eyes then shuffled down the hallway into the living room.

      She could hear chaos behind the door to the kitchen. Since she couldn’t avoid her sisters forever, Charlie took a deep breath and pushed open the swinging kitchen door.

      Black smoke was curling out of the brand-new silver toaster on the counter that Charlie had brought from home. Quinn stood in a sheer white minidress with her arms crossed, glaring at Kendra, who wore skin-tight, black workout pants and a black sports bra. Both of her sisters looked showered and refreshed, and Charlie reminded herself to check their bathroom first.

      “What in the world is going on?” Her sisters turned to her and both began speaking at once. Charlie instantly held up her hands for silence. Surprisingly, Quinn and Kendra both fell silent. “First, I need coffee. And, second, I need to find the closest Wal-Mart so we can start disinfecting this place.”

      “Wal-Mart?” Kendra gasped in horror at the same time that Quinn whispered in dismay, “Disinfecting?”

      “If we’re lucky,” Charlie muttered. “There may not be a Wal-Mart around here, which is great for the local small businesses, but very bad for us.”

      Charlie shuffled to the coffeemaker that she had also brought from home. Kendra wordlessly handed her a coffee cup with the name of her alma mater, Harvard, emblazoned on the side. Charlie smiled gratefully then filled the mug with the steaming liquid. She usually liberally sprinkled sugar into her coffee, but since she knew neither of her sisters would think to pack something as caloric as sugar, she just gulped it down and cringed.

      “You’re not actually expecting us to clean this place, are you, Charlie?” Quinn asked, nervously. “We don’t have the skills for this—”

      “Skills,” Kendra snorted. “We’re