Grit: A Love Story on 7th and Main

by Elizabeth Hunter

  Ox said, “Eventually we’ll want more bedrooms.”

  “Exactly.”

  Melissa’s eyes went wide. “What? Really?”

  Emmie held up her hands. “Not right now. Or even right away. You know… eventually.”

  Melissa’s face was glowing. “I’m so excited for you guys. So excited.”

  Cary’s heart lurched in his chest. They were talking about Ox and Emmie having kids. Did Melissa want more kids? She was young enough to have more. He’d always wanted children, but after his first marriage broke up, he figured it wasn’t in the cards. Could it be? His eyes must have given more away than he realized, because Melissa caught his gaze and looked away quickly.

  Shit.

  It wasn’t a deal breaker for him. Not even close. She might be happy with one kid and didn’t want more. Since Cary loved Abby like she was his own, that would be fine. It’d be great, in fact. But the idea of having more…

  It would be like climbing El Capitan successfully and then coming down and finding out you’d won the lottery while you were on the side of the mountain.

  But how did he bring it up? It was probably too soon. Wasn’t it?

  He watched Ox and Emmie giddily making plans for the future and realized something surprising.

  He was jealous as hell.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The October meeting of the Oakville town council was held at the Veterans Hall, just like it typically was, but the hall ran out of chairs fifteen minutes before the meeting was due to start.

  That was not typical.

  Instead of a scattering of residents, the hall was packed to the gills. There were people wearing bright yellow T-shirts in the back with banners saying Save Jordan Valley. There was a contingent from the Yokuts tribal government sitting in the second row. There were residents and store owners, young parents and senior citizens.

  And lots and lots of farmers.

  The farmers, conventional and organic, ranchers and herders and tree growers, had all clustered on the right side of the hall. Melissa walked into the meeting with Cary and had to bite back a laugh.

  He frowned. “What?”

  She waved her right hand toward the farmers. “A sea. A veritable sea of plaid.”

  Cary glanced down at the blue chambray shirt covering his national park T-shirt. Both were ripped up from citrus thorns, and the blue chambray had an old coffee stain on the sleeve. “I always did try to be different.”

  “And that is only one of the reasons I love you.”

  He smiled. “Come on. We may not be wearing plaid, but they are our people.”

  Melissa and Cary moved to the right side of the hall, exchanging nods with all the farmers, growers, and ranchers they knew.

  They were a solitary crowd by nature, but from the mutters and mumbles Melissa could hear, not a single one of them was a fan of the Allen Ranch project. Too many people. Too much water—water was a big issue. The farmers were worried about new people complaining about the dust and the smell of animals. About large equipment moving down the roads.

  City people meant problems, even if they appreciated the scenery. That was the general consensus.

  Cary found a clear spot of wall to lean against, and Melissa leaned against him. They got a few looks, but not many.

  Had she really been that oblivious? Not a single person looked surprised to see them together.

  She felt the atmosphere of the room change as soon as the representatives from JPR Holdings walked in. There was Kevin Fontaine, whom they’d met before; Devin Peres, Melissa’s brother-in-law; and a face she didn’t recognize, a middle-aged woman with a smartly cut blond bob.

  “She looks like a lawyer on television,” Cary said. “Not like a cheesy injury lawyer, like one of those actresses playing a really smart lawyer.”

  “Is it the hair?”

  “Maybe it’s the hair.”

  Bud Rogers had actually brought a gavel to the meeting. At five minutes before the hour, he started banging it.

  “We’re a little early, but let’s get started. Uh… now I know that this is an unusual meeting because we’re having a vote tonight, but we still have to follow protocol. So right now I’m going to read the minutes from last month.”

  As Bud read the meetings from the month before, Melissa mentally reviewed everything that had happened since that first meeting.

  She and Cary had become friends who kissed. And then more.

  The note on her ranch had been called in.

  Her first harvest of mandarins was almost ready to pick.

  She’d hired a new employee who had taken over a lot of duties on the ranch.

  The bunkhouse had been renovated.

  She discovered her in-laws were even bigger assholes than she’d realized.

  And Abby had a new goat.

  “I really need a vacation,” she whispered.

  “And that is nearly impossible until Christmas.”

  A tiny whimper left her throat.

  Cary leaned forward and kissed her temple. “Maybe we can find a weekend to take the goat queen camping.”

  “That would be nice.”

  Bud finished reading the minutes of the meeting and banged the gavel again. “Now,” he said, voice booming, “because of the unusual nature of this meeting, we’ll be opening the floor for questions.”

  Everyone started talking, and Bud banged the gavel again.

  “You know, I thought it was maybe overkill,” Cary said. “But that gavel was a good call.”

  “It’s very loud.”

  “This will not work unless we have order!” Bud shouted.

  Nobody was listening.

  Tammy Barber stood and shouted, “Everybody, be quiet and listen!”

  Tammy had been a teacher in the high school, and half the people in the room had probably taken biology or chemistry from her. She didn’t mess around, and within seconds the room was quiet.

  She pointed at the front of the room. “Okay. On either side, we’ve set up microphones. Form two lines so everyone can ask their questions.”

  Everyone started shuffling around and lining up while Tammy kept shouting directions.

  “You get one minute for your question, so you better not ramble. The people from the developers will have three minutes to answer.” She glared at the JPR Holdings people. “Three minutes, and we want real answers for real questions. I’m sorry we have to put such a tight schedule on you all, but there are a lot of people who want answers and we only have two hours.”

  More muttering, but the lines formed.

  One of the first people up was the Yokuts representative. “There are several members of our community who have important family sites on the Allen ranch. It is our understanding that when the land was sold, one of the provisions Mr. Augustus Allen made was that those families would continue having reasonable access to those sites that are sacred to them. Will JPR Holdings be honoring that part of the sales contract? We’re in the process of obtaining those records right now.”

  The woman who looked like a lawyer leaned forward. “Since the property has not changed hands since the Allen sale, all original contract provisions stand. If reasonable access is part of the sales contract, that will be honored.”

  The Yokuts representative tried to speak again, but Bud Rogers cut him off. “I’m sorry, Claude, if you want another question, you’re gonna have to line up again.”

  “I’m just trying to figure out what ‘reasonable access’ means to them, Bud.”

  Muttering around the room.

  “He’s right,” Melissa whispered. “That phrase is way open for interpretation.”

  “Yeah.”

  The next question came from a parent who wanted to know if the property taxes would cover all the renovations needed for the high school.

  Tammy answered that one. “Yeah, they would. It’d be more than enough to cover the bill for all the plumbing. And from what I’ve seen about the development proposal, because this is a re
tirement community, the impact on our schools is gonna be very minimal. The people moving in aren’t going to have kids. So the schools wouldn’t get crowded.”

  A general murmur of appreciation from the room.

  The next person stepped up. It was Melvin Raphney, who was on the Committee to Save Jordan Valley and wearing a truly eye-searing yellow shirt.

  “Has anyone answered what we’re going to do about the roads?” he asked. “I read that proposal, and what they’re talking about doesn’t seem like it would work. Who says that the farmers in Jordan Valley are going to want to sell their land to these people so they can widen the highway to four lanes? Two lanes have been fine for as long as I’ve lived here. Why do we need four lanes? Is it gonna be divided? Are people gonna be able to park along the road during wildflower season? What about traffic? Are we gonna need more traffic lights in town, because if there’s one thing I hate, it’s a—”

  Bud slammed the gavel down. “Melvin, that’s your minute.” He looked at the JPR group. “Traffic?”

  “All our civil impact studies have shown that the effect on traffic will be minimal,” the blond woman said to widespread muttering. “We do not anticipate a problem obtaining the land to widen the road.”

  “And if they do have a problem”—a rancher spoke up from the right side—“they’ll just use the government to pressure us to sell.”

  Bud banged the gavel as everyone started talking. “Kurt, that is not a question and you do not have the floor.”

  “This is bullshit, Bud.”

  “I don’t appreciate that kind of language!”

  Tammy Barber had to stand up to quiet the room again. “Let’s settle down! Next question.”

  The questions came fast and furious. People wanted to know how much the houses would cost. Could people from Oakville buy them? If there was a golf course, could they play it? What kind of restaurants would be coming in? Did the Allen ranch have enough groundwater to support two thousand houses? What about solar panels, would the houses have solar panels? Would this development raise property values in town? How much?

  Melissa caught Devin’s eye about halfway through the meeting. He nodded at her and gave her a shit-eating grin. Devin thought this was going well, which worried her. Because in Melissa’s opinion, the mood of the room was not on JPR’s side. So if Devin was confident the vote would go their way… why?

  “Les is being real quiet,” Cary said. “You notice that?”

  “Les is always quiet.”

  “But look at him.” Cary nodded toward the old man. “He knows something.”

  If Devin looked smug, then Les Arthur looked sure. The old man sat at the end of the council table, and his expression swung between mild annoyance anytime the JPR people were speaking to bemusement.

  People were moving in and out of the room. Residents got in and out of line as questions were asked, presumably sitting down if someone else asked the question they wanted an answer for. And people wanted to know about everything.

  What are the houses going to look like?

  How much are they going to cost?

  What about beekeepers?

  Can we revisit the dispensary idea before we build houses?

  What about the fire department? Would we need a new station?

  Melissa heard the rumble of the crowd before she heard the next speaker through the microphone. She couldn’t see him, but she’d recognize that voice anywhere.

  “I’ve been listening to all this for about an hour now,” Gus Allen said from the far side of the room. “And what I want to know is why on earth you people think you can get away with this development?” The crowd began to murmur, but Gus Allen kept speaking. “It’s specifically spelled out in the contract that I signed with you, Miss Delaney, that any residential subdivision of the Allen ranch can only occur under very specific circumstances and must be limited to no less than four-acre divisions.”

  “Oh… shit.” Cary chuckled. “Hey there, Gus. Nice to see you. Glad you brought your hammer.”

  Melissa’s eyes went wide. “It’s in the sales contract? Can you do that?”

  Cary shrugged. “Maybe?”

  The blond woman’s smile was brittle. “It’s so nice to see you, Mr. Allen. Thank you for coming tonight. If you examine the plans submitted to the planning committee of the Oakville town council, you will see that, in fact, all the particular addendums to the sale of your land have been met.”

  There was shuffling and a new voice spoke into the mic. Melissa craned her neck and saw Adrian Saroyan reaching for the microphone.

  There was a squeak, and then he spoke. “Miss Delaney, with all due respect, I would disagree with your assessment of the submitted plans. Jeremy, you want to hold up that board?”

  Jeremy Allen, Gus’s grandson, walked to the front of the room and held up a board half the size of a Ping-Pong table. On it, Melissa could see the outline of two thousand houses nearly surrounded by a massive golf course.

  “Hey, folks. I’m Adrian Saroyan. A lot of you knew my grandparents, Jan and Ana. They went to Saint Gregory’s, so I spent a lot of holidays out here as a kid.” Adrian paused while the crowd made friendly noises. “What JPR is trying to do here is a pretty classic underhanded tactic. As you can see from the diagram Gus’s grandson is holding up, they’ve divided the Allen ranch into these weird property parcels so that it looks like they’re all four acres, but all the condos would be in the middle of the development” —Adrian pointed to a cluster of houses in the middle of the board— “and then the golf course would surround it.”

  “Huh,” Cary said. “Clever. Devious, but clever.”

  “And then the homeowners’ association is going to lease the land from the purchasers for the golf course, I guess. Now, we can challenge this in the court as a breach of contract—”

  “I hope your friend has deep pockets, Saroyan.” Devin Peres leaned forward and spoke loudly. “Very deep pockets.”

  Les Arthur cleared his throat and spoke for the first time. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about Gus, Mr. Peres. He’s a smart man with his money.” The old man shot a pointed glance at Devin. “And he’s got more than a few friends in Oakville willing to back him up if he needs it.”

  Melissa said, “You were right. Looks like Les does know something.”

  Cary said, “I wish I had popcorn right now.”

  Melissa reached in her purse and handed him a bag of air-puffed cheesy corn. “Knock yourself out. It’s Abby’s favorite, but she’ll live.”

  Cary’s jaw dropped open. “You are the best girlfriend ever.” He threw his arm around Melissa and opened the bag of popcorn.

  Adrian started to speak again, but Bud banged his gavel. “Time is more than up, Mr. Saroyan.”

  The farmer standing on the other microphone said, “I’m gonna go ahead and yield my time to Mr. Saroyan, if that’s all right. Adrian, you have more to tell us?”

  “Sure do, Carmen.” Adrian held up a sheaf of papers and turned around, speaking to the room. “Now, what I think is really important for the council and all of you to know is, they’re going to try to screw Oakville on taxes with this plan.”

  Cary munched on a handful of popcorn. “I’m shocked.”

  “So shocked.” Melissa grabbed a piece.

  The muttering in the room turned angry.

  Adrian kept talking. “They’ve reserved a very small space around the edges of the property.” He walked over and pointed to the boundaries of the golf course with one finger. “See that shaded area right along the edges? That appears to be reserved for some kind of agriculture. It’s not much—not really productive—but it’ll probably be enough to keep the land taxed as agricultural use instead of residential, which will save them a whole truckload of money and significantly reduce the taxes Oakville will be able to collect.”

  The murmurs from the crowd gained in volume.

  “What’s this?” Bud Rogers was glaring. “I didn’t see this part of the plan. What’s this?”


  “Did you read the actual proposal, Bud?” Adrian held a folder out to him. “Here. Have a copy. I don’t know what they’re going to do with that amount of land, breed llamas or something? God knows. Maybe a chinchilla herd?”

  Laughter scattered around the room.

  Melissa said, “I knew llamas were going to make an entrance in this somehow.”

  Cary said, “I’ve heard they’re really good with sheep.”

  “The point is,” Adrian continued, “they’re going to do everything in their power to screw you out of as much tax money as possible.” He turned to address the council. “I know this seems like it might be a solution to the budget shortfall. But it’s not.” He pointed at the JPR representatives. “These people have no interest in this town. They’re out to make money. They don’t care about the health of the community. Not even a little.”

  Devin Peres, Kevin Fontaine, and Blond Lawyer Delaney were all glaring at Adrian.

  He didn’t seem to care. “I very much doubt the residents they attract are going to shop on your Main Street,” he said. “They might go to Metlin. Maybe. But they don’t care about Oakville. I know you need development, but this is not the way.”

  Bud looked defeated. “I don’t want to close the high school, Adrian.”

  “No one wants that,” Adrian said. “And if you want, I will volunteer my time with you guys to figure out some better solutions. But don’t do this.” Adrian looked at each council member, one by one. “Let’s figure out a way that keeps Oakville the town you love.”

  Someone in the back started clapping, then the whole room joined in.

  Melissa bumped Cary’s shoulder. “It’s a good thing I love you.”

  He frowned. “I don’t disagree, but why?”

  “Because if I didn’t, Adrian Saroyan is looking surprisingly attractive right now.”

  “You know, I had the exact same thought, only about Gus Allen.”

  Melissa burst out laughing and slid her arm around his waist. “Well, it appears that the Allen Ranch Retirement Community is on life support and things are not looking good. My father-in-law is going to be pissed, but I don’t really care. Let’s go home.”