Chapter Fourteen

Willow

“You know, you could always move back to civilization and come into the office,” Matt Wilson cajoled over FaceTime as I walked down Gold Creek Drive, headed for Charity’s.

“Yeah, I think not,” I declined with a smile. “Remember when we were at Rutgers and I told you I was going back to Alba and staying there?”

He adjusted his tie and laughed. “I remember. You know Vaughn Holdings loved the graphics for the new campaign, right?”

“I do remember hearing that. Good morning, Mrs. Dawson,” I said to Genevieve as she came down the sidewalk toward me.

“Willow,” she replied, more venom than sugar. “We’re all just so excited to see the plans this week. Would be a shame if all that hoopla with Art got in the way, wouldn’t it?”

I stilled, looking past Matt’s face to Genevieve’s… Wait, was she glowering at me? “I’m sorry, you mean his whole just-got-off-life-support hoopla?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’d better talk to your boyfriend, and that’s all I’m going to say. But if you think this town is going to sit around and watch poor Art get exploited by that boy, well, that’s not going to happen. I’ve said my piece.”

“My boyfriend? Cam?” I guessed. “Because we’re not—”

“Oh, don’t you play coy. You always were more loyal to those Daniels boys than your own family. But that’s all I’m going to say.” She disappeared into her jewelry store, leaving my mouth wide open.

“So, was that really all she was going to say, or is she coming back for an encore?” Matt asked.

“I have no idea. That’s Genevieve Dawson for you.” I noted several glares as I made my way down the street. What the hell was going on?

“And that’s the town you want to live in? Seriously. Come to Denver. You don’t get views like this.” He turned the phone, showing the skyline of downtown Denver. “Come on, you deserve to sit through the meetings where clients rave about your work.”

“This is home, Matt. Where I have my family and friends and views like this.” I turned my own camera, shooting him the snowcapped peaks against a crisp blue sky. “You take the credit. It’s never been about the applause for me.”

“Or is it about the boyfriend?”

The thought of Cam sent a rush of emotion tumbling through me like an uncoordinated circus. “No boyfriend. Look, I have to go. I just got to my sister’s place. Send me over the client’s wish list, and I’ll get started on that new design.”

“You got it. Steer clear of the big-haired lady. We need you intact.”

“Ha-ha.” I hung up with him as I walked into Mother Lode.

Charity was at the tail end of a staff meeting, so I nodded to her and sat at a table. It had been a week since Art’s accident. He was off the ventilator and recovering, but I only knew that from a few of Cam’s text messages.

I hadn’t seen him or heard his voice since he’d hopped on the snowmobile and taken off. I also hadn’t said a word about what happened between us. Not to Cam. Not to Thea. Not to Walt when he took me up to the mine, since Cam was on a weird schedule with Xander, both watching over their dad in shifts.

His words were eating me alive.

“What’s up?” Charity asked as the last of her staff filtered out.

I looked at my sister and tried to find the words, but instead, I ended up doing a weird fish-out-of-water thing where basically I just opened and shut my mouth a bunch. Finally, I uttered one word: “Milkshake.”

It was our oldest, most sacred ritual.

“Camden Daniels,” she guessed with a sigh.

“Basically.”

“Well, I have Meredith opening, so I’m free. But you’re buying.” She took her coat off the rack.

“You sure? I know how busy you get.”

“You’re my sister. I’m sure. Besides, I owe you for this weekend. Rose’s costume looks amazing for the play. Now get off your butt before I make you start scrubbing tables.” She nodded, and I moved.

We were seated in the back booth at Bigg’s, where Charity made sure no one could hear us, before I said a word.

“Okay, so—”

“Hold up.” Charity raised her finger, and sure enough, Tillie Halverson walked over to take our order.

“Hey, Willow! Charity.” Tillie’s tone didn’t mince words.

“It’s so nice to see you, Tillie!” Charity responded with an Oscar-worthy smile and nose wrinkle.

“Hmmm,” Tillie responded, then took our order. “So is there any truth to the rumors about you and Cam?” she asked me outright once we were finished.

“Rumors?” I asked after nearly sputtering my water all over the table.

“Oh, that you two are hot and heavy, seeing that you’re his restoration girl?” Tillie sized me up with a smile.

I had to be seeing things.

“I’m not sure what you mean by hot and heavy, but yes, I’m helping him with the restorations. Cam and I have been friends since I was born, Tillie.”

“Of course. Right. Stupid rumors. Especially when you’re Sullivan’s girl.” She flushed, the color reaching her cheeks as she looked at her notepad.

“Except Sullivan’s dead.” Charity put my thoughts to words with a shrug. “So it really wouldn’t matter, would it?”

“Right. Of course. So does that mean Cam’s…available?” She drew out that last word so long it may as well have been its own sentence.

“You could probably ask him,” I suggested. I was liking Tillie a whole lot less.

“Right! Okay, I’ll have these right out!” She flounced away in her fifties skirt, her blond ponytail swishing in time with her hips.

“Usually I worry about Tillie spitting in my food, but I think you may have usurped me in the hated-Bradley-girl hierarchy.”

“Everyone is weird today.” I swirled my straw through my ice water.

“Normal weird or Alba weird?” Charity asked.

“Over-the-top Alba weird, and Genevieve Dawson was downright mean on the street.”

“Okay, well, you’re using up your Milkshake on Genevieve Dawson. Start talking.” She stared me down.

Calling Milkshake was never to be taken advantage of. It was only for the moments your sister, and only your sister, would do.

I talked.

I started at Cam’s arrival, pausing only when Tillie brought us our food. Then I continued.

Charity didn’t say a single word, simply sat across from me, eating her burger and fries and sipping on a chocolate shake. There was no judgment in her eyes, like I would have gotten if I’d talked to Mom. No giddy excitement, like I would have received if I were talking to Thea.

She just nodded every now and then, holding up a finger if anyone came close enough to listen, and that gave me the courage to empty it all out. The kiss. Sullivan’s death. All of it.

There was a sacred understanding that we were a combination-free vault. Secrets went in. Nothing came out. We were uncrackable. And when one of us called a Milkshake, the other stopped whatever she was doing, no questions asked.

We’d sipped on Bigg’s shakes on our parents’ deck the night Charity whispered that she was pregnant.

“And then he said, ‘It was Mom’s name on his lips, when I knew mine would have been yours,’” I finished.

The straw fell into her shake, but her mouth held the same shape as she stared at me.

“Say something,” I urged.

“He seriously said that? Not just all of it but that last sentence?”

I nodded and took a drink of my salted caramel shake. “What do you think he meant? I’m thinking it has to be that if he had been in Sullivan’s place, right?” At least that was what I’d told myself just about every hour since he’d dropped that line on me. The rest of the story had been hard to hear, but not the earth-shattering confession he had tried to make it. I knew Cam could never have been responsible for Sullivan’s death.

But now I knew just how responsible he actually felt, and that came with the knowledge that he’d use that guilt to freeze me out if I gave him the chance.

“I think he meant exactly that. If he had been the one dying, he would have said your name.” She sagged against the seat, like I’d knocked the wind out of her. “Man, I never in a million years thought Camden Daniels had a romantic bone in his body.”

“Romantic? No, just logical, because if he’d been Sullivan, then he would have been dating me, and that makes sense.” My words slowed, and I drank again, but my milkshake didn’t taste quite as sweet with that next sip.

“Wait, what?” she questioned, sitting up straighter. “I think we’re crossing wires here, or you’re purposefully trying to misunderstand.”

“Misunderstand? No. I mean, I guess there was this part of me that always hoped…” I couldn’t say the words out loud.

“That you’d end up with Cam?” Charity asked quietly.

I dragged my eyes to hers but couldn’t nod. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t answer that basic question, because it would rip apart the very foundations I stood on.

It was okay to be friends with Cam. Okay to be best friends with Cam. Okay to watch movies with him, hike with him, read with him, sit quietly with him while we grew up. Okay to be defended by him and defend him. Okay to sleep next to him the night his mom died and hold his hand during the funeral. We’d been kids.

Maybe it was even okay to kiss him. I was probably one of the only girls in Alba who hadn’t kissed him as a teenager.

But it was most definitely not okay to envision any kind of future.

Charity watched me until she sighed and shook her head. “You two are a damned Shakespearean tragedy. It’s slightly entertaining yet incredibly painful to watch.”

“You’re not helping,” I accused.

“Short of holding up a mirror, I’m not sure what else you’d like me to do, Willow. That man is in love with you and always has been. And no, before you open that fool mouth, I am not talking about Sullivan. I’m talking about Camden. And no, he doesn’t just treat you like the little girl who grew up next door. I grew up next door to them, too. I went swimming and hiking, too. I rode the same school bus and went to the same parties. If you can’t accept what he blatantly told you, then you’re half the problem, and we’re going to need a lot more ice cream.” She held up her nearly empty milkshake glass.

“You think that he meant if he were the one dying, and it was his head in Sullivan’s lap, that he would have called out for me?” I whispered. Any second now I was going to look down and see a scarlet A on my chest for even thinking it.

“Yes.”

“You really think Camden is in love with me?”

“Yes.”

My back hit the red vinyl of the booth. “For how long?”

“Since forever.”

I scoffed.

“Fine. I knew it the day he carried you home from the mine.”

“I was nine.”

“Like I said. Forever.”

“And you’re just now telling me this?” There was no way. Or was there?

“You’re just now willing to hear it.”

But I wasn’t. Not really. “No, he was cruel that last summer. The things he said to me. The way he treated me… That wasn’t love.”

“No, that was love’s ugly second cousin—jealousy.”

“If it isn’t the Bradley sisters!” We both turned to see Gideon Hall in the center of Bigg’s with his arms raised as he walked toward us.

Still reeling from Charity’s theory, I barely managed a smile.

“Gid,” Charity responded for us.

“Scoot.” He sat next to Charity and nudged her over.

“Don’t you have better things to do than harass citizens?” She moved even as she chided him. “This isn’t high school.”

“Thank God, or Julie would be pissed if I were sitting here.” He grinned at me. “How are you, Willow?”

“Fine, Gi—” I openly gawked at the door and the man storming through it. “Is that…?”

“Dad,” Charity agreed and became preoccupied with her straw as he saw us and stalked over.

But Dad hated Bigg’s.

“Willow, I need a word with you.”

“Hi, Judge Bradley,” Gideon greeted.

“Lieutenant Hall,” Dad acknowledged. “Willow, now.”

“Okay, what is it?” Suddenly I wondered if Gideon’s choice of seat was more to protect than annoy.

“You want to do this here?” he challenged, eyes narrowing on me as his voice dropped in volume.

“Dad, I don’t know what this is. Do you want me to step outside with you?” I offered.

“This will be fine. You tell that boy that I saw his motion this morning when I came home from a Buena Vista appearance. I don’t know what in the hell you could possibly be thinking to still be helping him with those historic sites after what he’s done.”

Charity’s eyes darted toward the door, but I didn’t need her to say a word. I felt everyone’s eyes on us.

“Dad, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m guessing it’s Cam, but I haven’t seen him in a week. What’s going on?”

“You haven’t seen him?” He loosened his tie slightly but not enough to look unkempt. “Teaching her how to lie?” he asked Charity.

She tilted her head but didn’t respond.

Guess we were back to the not-talking thing.

“I’m not lying.” Whatever it was had to be huge for my dad to lose his temper in public like this.

“You’re not seeing him?”

“Not in the way you’re suggesting, no.” And bury me in the earth right now, because Tillie Halverson’s head popped over the milkshake machine. She had to be standing on the counter to get that view.

“You didn’t spend the night with him last week?” he hissed.

My cheeks flamed, both with embarrassment and indignation.

“That’s what I thought.”

“It wasn’t like that,” I snapped. But why was I defensive? Even if it had been, I was a grown woman, and he was the one acting like a child. He didn’t deserve an explanation, and I certainly didn’t owe him one.

“Right. Well, I’ll wish you the best of luck getting those plans approved by the Historical Society on Friday. Art has more than a few friends on the council, and none of us is in a hurry to see our friend buried just so Cam can get whatever inheritance he thinks is coming to him.”

See Art buried?

“Judge Bradley, you’re crossing a pretty clear line,” Gideon warned.

Dad looked at Gid’s badge, then his eyes. “Maybe if everyone else would stop crossing them, I wouldn’t feel like I had to fetch them back across it.”

“All the same, you might want to order a shake or something so everyone doesn’t think you came in just to yell at your daughters about private legal matters they shouldn’t even know about.”

Dad’s eyes narrowed, but he turned and left without another word, heading toward the counter to do just what Gideon suggested.

“What the hell was that about?” Charity asked.

“Cam had Simon drop a suit today. He’s suing Xander for guardianship of their father.” He stole a fry from my plate and ate it. “You know how fast word travels around here.”

“You knew our dad was coming,” I guessed.

“This wasn’t the first place he looked,” he confirmed. “The whole town is pretty pissed. I had lunch plans here anyway.”

“That explains your Genevieve snub,” Charity noted, smacking Gid’s hand when he reached for one of her fries. “Order your own.”

“I will. Just waiting on— There he is.” He nodded toward the door.

Camden scanned the room, finding Gideon and then me. His baseball hat rode low on his brow, as did those jeans on his hips. Hips I’d had my thighs wrapped around last week.

And now my face felt like it was on fire.

“Frosty reception,” Charity murmured.

That’s when I noticed that not a single soul was speaking at any of the twenty tables. They were all watching Cam. “Glaring” was probably the better term.

Cam noticed, too, because his chin rose as he strode across the floor.

Dad moved into his path, and my heart stopped with Cam’s steps as his fist flexed, but he tucked his thumbs into his back pockets. This could go so very wrong, and if Cam’s temper got the best of him, he’d never win his suit.

“If you do this, Dad won’t forgive you,” Charity whispered.

I looked down at her and realized I’d stood. “You’re sure about what you said earlier?”

She glanced at Dad and Cam. “Yeah. I am.”

“Then I can live with it.” Dad raised me to side with what was right, no matter the cost. He just didn’t realize he wasn’t right this time.

She swallowed, then nodded quickly.

Their words were still muffled as I crossed the checkered diner floor, but the tone was unmistakable. Dad was pissed. Cam was in that scary calm that usually came before he destroyed something.

“Hey, we were waiting for you,” I said to Cam as I faced them both. “We’re in the back.”

Cam’s eyes found mine, and if I were anyone else, I would have flinched at what I found there. This wasn’t the guy who carried me home on the Cat or the one who kissed me in the kitchen. This was the Cam who killed people, and it finally hit me just how close to the surface that part of him lived, barely leashed. There was a part of him that I wasn’t sure cared about anyone or anything—even me.

He expected me to retreat; that’s what that little glare meant.

“Saved you a seat right next to me.” I held out my hand, palm up, and waited.

The ball was in his court. I refused to look at anyone else or even think of the possible humiliation I’d just opened myself up to. The humiliation Cam would have served me had we still been in that summer before he left for basic. I kept my eyes locked on his and didn’t move my hand. Something told me the minute I lost eye contact, he’d blow.

“Willow,” Dad warned.

“Cam,” I whispered. Every second he waited, my hand felt heavier with potential devastation.

He looked back at my father, and my heart sank.

But his hand took mine and felt lighter than the emptiness I’d been holding, even with its weight.

“Judge Bradley,” Cam said quietly in farewell. He moved, putting himself between Dad and me as he started back toward the booth.

“Willow,” Dad called, and it wasn’t quiet. I paused, knowing the gloves were off.

I looked back anyway.

“What would Sullivan say?”

He hadn’t landed a punch—he’d shot directly to the heart, and mine shattered. My breath stuttered, and Cam’s hand tightened around mine.

“I don’t know, Dad. But I’ll be sure to ask him the next time I see him.” I faced the booth and put one foot in front of the other until I was seated against the wall with Cam blocking the rest of the diner.

He lifted his arm, then wrapped his hand around my shoulder and pulled me into his side. It wasn’t a romantic declaration, though that’s probably what everyone assumed. It was full-on structural support.

I concentrated on Cam’s scent, all mint and pine, and tried to shove everything else that had just happened in a box to be examined later. Tried but didn’t quite succeed. Dad had really just used Sullivan against me. Against Cam.

“What just happened?” Gideon asked.

“Willow excommunicated herself.” Charity’s eyes glossed over as she offered me a weak, trembling smile. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, the movement jerky.

“Smile,” she ordered as her own brightened. “Every tongue in here is going to wag, so don’t you dare let Dad win. Not in this. Smile. It’s the best armor you’ve got.”

I did, but if Gideon’s cringe was any indication, it wasn’t successful.

“How long you think your dad can stay pissed about something like that?” Gideon nodded back toward where Dad had declared open war on me, then stole another fry.

“How long will it take him to forgive one of his daughters going against his direct wishes as publicly as possible?” Charity asked.

“Yeah,” Gideon clarified.

“She’ll let you know when it finally happens.” I gave my sister a wry laugh.

“Amen,” she agreed, and our laughter turned real.

Cam’s arm tightened around me, and I leaned into him.

“It’s okay, sis. There’s room at the black-sheep table for you. Right, Cam?”

“There’s room wherever you want it, Willow.” He rested his chin on the top of my head. “Toffee?” He reached for my milkshake and took a sip, startling a little.

“Nope. It’s salted caramel. Surprised?”

He looked down at me, and my Cam was back in those deep-brown depths. “Definitely not what I expected to find.”

“In a good way?” I whispered so only he could hear it.

His brow knit for a second; then he leaned in and kissed my forehead. “The best way.”

…

Three days later, Cam walked into the Historical Society meeting and took the empty seat next to mine. He’d been back and forth to Salida to watch over his dad and spent the rest of his time designing the rebuilds, and it showed. He looked exhausted.

Other than a short phone conversation, we’d only spoken over text message. I’d basically become a hermit, working nonstop at my house, but the disdainful looks I’d gotten when I walked in told me everyone assumed I was now dating Cam.

I almost laughed at them because even I wasn’t assuming that.

In fact, every sign pointed to the opposite.

“We’re up in one more agenda item,” I told him.

“Okay,” he replied, shucking his coat.

“Are you? You are. I didn’t even know you owned a tie.” But holy crap did he make it look good.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he teased with a wink.

“Everyone thinks I know everything.” I hung on that last word.

“Everyone can mind their own business,” Cam said directly to Mrs. Rhodes, who had turned in her seat to blatantly glower.

She wasn’t alone. Dad had rotated between ignoring and glaring at me since I sat down, and more than one of the older ladies had muttered that Sullivan would be ashamed.

Yeah, he would have. Of them.

“Our next item of business is reviewing the business plan offered by Camden Daniels,” Walt announced from the dais. “Would you like to approach, Cam?”

“Yes, sir,” he answered and stood.

“Good luck,” I whispered.

He paused in the aisle, file firmly tucked in his right hand, and offered me his left.

“You’re just going to piss people off even more if you shove me in their faces,” I hissed.

“Come on, Pika. I saved you a seat next to me.”

Thea elbowed me in the side.

I took his hand and raised my chin as we walked down the aisle, ignoring the scalding pain from that damned scarlet A branding deeper into my skin with every whisper. Cam was an expert at not caring what people thought—or at least looking like it.

I was a rookie.

Cam went over his plan and answered every question the council threw at him. I counted two or three council members who weren’t openly hostile.

Xander remained silent, but that was no surprise. Calm and collected against Cam’s rage had always been his MO.

“This looks like a solid plan,” Walt finished. “The thought that we could get the mine open to tours as early as August is a huge motivator, too. Shall we vote?”

There was a murmur on the dais, and Walter called the nine-member council to vote.

I held my breath as Mary Murphy counted the ballots.

“Three for aye,” she said, her shoulders sagging. “Six for nay.”

There was an audible gasp through the hall. Hating Cam was one thing; denying the town much-needed income out of spite was another.

Cam tensed, his grip turning white on the podium.

“Seriously?” Walter questioned, his gaze swinging left and right down the council.

“Vote’s been cast,” Genevieve said with a fake frown. “It’s hard to believe there were six of you who couldn’t look past Cam’s current legal matters.”

Six of you?

Three ayes. That had to be Walt; Gid’s wife, Julie; and probably Mary, given her reaction. Or maybe not. No one would go public with their grudge.

Unless we made them.

I tugged on Cam’s elbow, and he leaned down.

“Tell Walt that you move to poll the council.”

“Why?”

“They secretly voted against you because of the lawsuit. They won’t publicly go against the mine. It’s literally the reason Alba exists in the first place. Do it,” I ordered.

He shot me a look of disbelief but stood tall. “Foreman?”

“Cam?” Walt replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“I move to poll the council.”

Walt’s eyebrows rose, but he smiled. “What a good idea.”

“He can’t move to poll the council. He has to have a majority of the eighteen other voting members,” Dad interjected, looking straight at Cam when he said it.

“You neglected to mention that,” Cam whispered, barely moving his mouth.

“Whoops. Okay. Just go with it.” I turned around and eyed what I could see of the hall.

“Go with what?” he asked.

“Could you move to the left there, Dorothy? Thanks.” I climbed up on the folding chair.

“Sweet Lord,” Dorothy muttered.

I wobbled when the chair did, but Cam grabbed my waist. Probably not the best imagery, but we were already condemned, so I might as well get the perks. “If you’re a voting member, could you stand?”

About ten people did.

“Come on. Stand up. Don’t you want to hear which of them is willing to let a personal vendetta against Camden Daniels deny this town the chance to raise our income by fifty percent? You saw the projections. James Hudgens, you have two sons who live in Alba, but you can only leave the historical firehouse to one of them. Don’t you want to see if the other can make a living in the season running the tours or shuttling tourists?”

James looked past Oscar’s scowl to his younger son, Ian. Then he stood.

“Jennifer Halverson, you make money on one thing. Don’t look at me like that—you know it’s true. Can you imagine how much more money you’ll make for your kids when we have another thirty thousand people come through in the summer?”

She openly glared at Cam but stood.

Funny how moral judgment went out the window when personal finances got involved.

One by one, I called out the remaining five voting members until all seventeen of them stood with Camden as the eighteenth.

“If you’d like to move the council to a verbal poll, please lift your hand and say ‘aye,’” I called out.

They unanimously did.

Cam lowered me to the ground, using it as an excuse to whisper “Thank you” in my hair.

“I just got you here. You have to poll them. You’re the one who called for it.”

“Great,” he muttered.

“They can’t answer the poll until you finish calling their name. First and last,” I told him.

“How do you even know that?” He looked at me with a combination of awe and confusion.

“Dad,” I explained with a shrug. He’d made a game of learning council rules and quizzed us at the dinner table as kids, certain that one of his daughters would take his place as a county judge.

“So call their name really slowly?” Cam asked as Walter urged the crowd to quiet.

“Just keep talking until they’re convinced,” I suggested. “Go for the throat, because they sure went for yours.”

“You want me to change their minds.”

“You don’t have to do much,” I promised. “They’re facing a room of angry neighbors, and you only need two to flip. Just remember, founders can outvote them all.”

Cam nodded.

“You ready?” Walter asked.

“I am.”

“Begin.”

“Genevieve, I can’t imagine that you would deny all our townspeople the chance at increasing their income. Especially seeing that their income goes back into your jewelry store the rest of the year. My own father bought my mother’s engagement ring at Dawson’s. You definitely aren’t one of those nays, are you, Genevieve Dawson?”

She was redder than her cranberry sweater when he finished. He’d sure chosen to start with a dragon.

“Of course not. I say aye,” she finished.

One down.

“Walter Robinson?”

“Aye,” Walter voted with a grin.

We only needed three more.

“Julie Hall?”

“Aye,” she replied and winked at her husband.

Down to two.

“Mary Murphy?” Cam guessed.

“Aye.” She nodded.

He was only going for the ayes, and he needed to flip one more vote.

His eyes landed on Dad, and I stiffened. “Noah, I could come back to Alba as a millionaire with a Nobel Prize and you’d still shut me down, right? How did you vote, Noah Bradley?”

“Nay.” Dad leaned back in his chair.

Cam nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

A murmur went through the crowd. “That was for you,” Cam whispered.

He’d turned the tables on my dad and called him out publicly, just like Dad had done to me in the diner. Dad let spite rule over public interest…in an election year.

“Alexander.”

I sucked in a breath as Cam addressed his brother.

“You and I have discussed how the proceeds from opening this mine to tours will allow us to generate enough income to keep our father in his own home with proper care. It will let us keep the promise we made to him. Surely you wouldn’t vote against keeping our dad in his home, would you, Alexander Daniels?”

Xander didn’t look out over the crowd, simply leaned forward and stared right at Cam. “I’ll do anything to keep our dad happy and healthy. Aye.”

The crowd applauded, and Cam clutched me in a quick hug, but I took one look at Dad and Xander and couldn’t help but feel that though we’d gained a win, we’d lost something, too.