Lovelock's Arc

Chapter 10 of 13

Lovelock drives north with the pottery vendor's card taped to her dashboard. She learned her business methods by watching the memorial garden woman, but she never found out why the garden closed. The newspaper article about the failed market mentioned vendor lawsuits, but it didn't say what happened before that. She finds the property twenty minutes past Prescott, marked by a sign buried in pink vines that says "Beware" in faded letters. The garden itself is gone—just dirt patches and cracked pavers where the beds used to be. But the office shed is still standing, door half-open. Inside, she finds a filing cabinet tipped on its side with folders scattered across the floor. Most are water-damaged, but one folder is sealed in plastic. Inside is a crumpled sheet of paper with handwritten notes: "Lost three anchor vendors when parking permit was denied two weeks before opening. Refunded deposits but couldn't cover booth construction costs. Seventeen vendors filed claims. Court ruled garden owner liable for promises made without infrastructure in place." At the bottom, in different ink: "Never promise what you can't control." Lovelock smooths the paper flat and photographs it with her phone. She drives back to Skull Valley and pins the photo next to her parking map. The memorial garden woman didn't fail because she was careless—she failed because she promised completion before she had proof. Lovelock opens her calendar and schedules the parking inspection for next Thursday. She won't contact the pottery vendor until the inspector signs off. Some commitments are earned by waiting, not by asking. She pulls out her vendor list and marks the pottery vendor's card with a pencil note: "After inspection only." Then she calls the ironworker and tells him the inspection date. He asks if she wants him there as backup. She says yes. The memorial garden woman worked alone and lost everything when one permit fell through. Lovelock learned by watching her build—but she's building different. Three ropes braided together. One snaps, but three hold.