by Kait Nolan
“Oh honey.” Miranda was off the sofa in an instant, pulling Norah into a hard hug. “That’s why you’ve been able to stay so long?”
Norah ducked her head. “Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She felt her lips twist into a sardonic smile. “Because Burkes don’t fail and we sure as hell don’t get fired.” She hissed out a breath and stepped away, waving an impatient hand. “But that isn’t my point. The only reason I’m bringing any of this up is that GrandGoods is going to have someone like me on their side. They’re going to make it sound like a dream come true and have an answer to downplay or eliminate all of your concerns. They’re going to offer jobs and discounts and services, and the public is going to eat it up because the economy is in the toilet, and they want someone big to come in and save them.”
“I saw some of that just in the other Council members. I’ve got two weeks to change their minds.”
Norah fixed her gaze on him. “If you want to play David to their Goliath, you’re going to need a helluva lot more than a rock. It doesn’t matter how well you think you know people here. GrandGoods is going to make this come down to economic survival, and by the time they’re through, people will believe that they’re some kind of savior. At least until they get here and the blindfold comes off. By then it’ll be too late. You can’t let that happen here, Cam.”
“I don’t intend to.”
“Excuse me for interjecting,” Uncle Jimmy said, “but exactly how do you intend to stop it? In two weeks, no less. The public’s going to want this, once word gets out. Like Norah said, that’s just the economic climate we’re in.”
“It’s going to take a miracle,” Anita said.
Something lightened in Cam’s face, a dawning realization. “No, it’s going to take somebody to counteract whatever silver-tongued devil they send. I can’t think of anybody better than the woman who once sold solar panels to an oil man.” He shifted his gaze back to Norah. “You said I need something bigger than a rock. You’re the next best thing to having an inside man. You’ve proved you know how they think, how they’ll approach this. And I know you know how to counter all that. So stay. Stay and make this fight less David versus Goliath and more Sparta versus the Persian army. You’re pissed off, and you have every right to be for how your firm used you. So take all that anger and use it. Redirect it to a new target and fight for us. We’ll hire you freelance.”
She thought back to the day they’d gone to the fountain, to the wish she’d made.
I wish for my time here to show me the right path, what my purpose really is.
Was it really so simple? So perfectly aligned with circumstance?
The whole idea of it smacked far too much of fate, which wasn’t a concept Norah was comfortable with. She believed in making her own fate, her own destiny. And yet, how could she say no to a chance to put her skills to use and stop the ruination of the town she loved, to atone, in part, for the damage she’d inadvertently done elsewhere.
Then there was Cam. If she agreed to do this, she had to end things. Anything else would be leading him on. She couldn’t stay forever, and remaining involved for however long this campaign might take would just make that ultimate parting worse for both of them in the end. Knowing what she knew now about his history… They’d slid too far, too fast already, getting so emotionally tangled, she hadn’t been able to think beyond the now to the practicalities of the future.
Resolute, Norah squared her shoulders. “I’ll fight for you, but I’ll do it pro bono.”
Cam frowned. “That hardly seems fair to you. You’re doing a job; you should get paid for it.”
She shook her head. “I’ve got a lot of work to do to balance out the bad karma for what I did in Morton.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
“Of course it’s my fault. They only reason they were there at all was because I convinced those people it was a good idea. You can pretty it up all you want, but I lied to them. I did that.”
“You were manipulated.”
“That’s no excuse. I should have double checked his work, should’ve followed up, done my own digging…something.” Cam opened his mouth to say something else, but Norah held up a hand. “We can argue about my culpability until we’re blue in the face, but I won’t budge on this. I was exceptionally well paid for what I did, and I worked too damned much to spend much of it. I don’t need the money right now. I need the fight. Let me do this my way.”
“Okay. Your way, then.” Cam offered his hand.
Norah took it, curling her fingers around his in a firm shake. “Cry ‘havoc’ and let slip the dogs of war. Clear your schedule, Leonidas. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
He smiled, the tension visibly draining out of him. “Let’s give ’em hell.”
Grammy stepped toward the kitchen. “Save your hell raisin’ for after cobbler. No war was ever won on an empty stomach.”
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned,” Cam said, “it’s to always respect my elders.”
Chapter 8
“You live…in a barn.” Norah made the statement slowly, as if that might make it a dream.
“Above one, actually.” Cam climbed out of the truck and reached for the bags in the backseat.
“Um…why?”
“It happens the house that was here burned to the ground a few years back. The owners didn't have the means or desire to rebuild. So I bought it and all the land that went with it. The barn loft was easy enough to convert into an apartment. Mitch and a few other friends helped me do it the summer I bought the place. I keep meaning to start on a house, but it...just hasn't been a priority. Come on in and let’s see how far I’ve offended your city girl sensibilities.”
Norah climbed out of his truck and stalked around the front. “Just because I’ve lived in cities more than half my life doesn’t change the fact that I’m Mississippi born and bred.”
He chuckled at the irritated twitch to her hips and led her up the stairs to the converted loft. Hush met them at the door, wagging in ecstasy at her visitor. While she and Norah greeted each other as if it’d been years rather than a few hours since they’d played together, Cam brushed past them and deposited the bags on the coffee table.
“Can I get you anything? There’s a pitcher of tea in the fridge. Or beer if you want.”
Norah extricated herself from the dog and finally stepped inside, her heels clicking across the hardwood floors he’d sanded and stained himself. “Coffee, if you’ve got it.”
“Comin’ right up.”
Hush bounced across the room and laid claim to her end of the sofa. As he set up the coffee to brew, Cam watched Norah taking in his space and wondered what she saw. Would she notice the reclaimed wood they’d fashioned into window seats and cabinetry along the length of both long walls? Or the solid butcher block counters polished to a gleam? Would she appreciate the small touches of the antique and the rustic? Or would she only see the lack of sleek and modern?
Norah turned a slow circle. "It's...wonderful. Cozy.”
Something in him eased at that. She really wasn’t the city girl he teased her of being. Not completely. “It’s unique anyway. I like my privacy.”
By the time French roast dripped through the filter, Norah had commandeered the coffee table. Her assortment of new notepads was laid out by size, and she was in the process of organizing the pens by color.
“You had multiple colored highlighters and sticky notes when you studied in college, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did. There were flashcards, too. I made everybody play Trivial Pursuit to study.”
Amused and happy to have her in his space, alone, he flopped down beside her on the sofa and tugged her into his lap. He cut off her squeal of surprise with a kiss.
“Mmm, I’ve been waiting for that for days.” Nibbling his way down her throat, he said, “Been waiting to get you here all to myself for longer.”
“Stop.” Norah’s voice was
a trifle breathless as she slapped a hand to his chest and shoved back. “We need to talk.”
“Talk.” The universal warning signal for relationships everywhere. Where was she going with this?
“I—oh for heaven’s sake, I can’t do this in your lap.” She extricated herself and took a breath. “Look, what we’re trying to do here is huge. It’s going to take a lot of work, and I need to be at the top of my game. I can’t do that if you’re scrambling my brains every other minute with your mouth.”
Cam fought the grin for all of two seconds.
“Don’t look so pleased with yourself, Campbell.” Her narrow-eyed glare was entirely ruined by the twitch of her own lips
“Hard not to be when you’re exactly where I want you. Almost.” He managed not to glance at the door to the bedroom as he curled his hand around hers and stroked a thumb over her wrist. Her pulse jumped and that pleased him as well.
“This—you and me—it’s complicated.”
“Doesn’t have to be.” He didn’t want it to be. He wanted things to be simple.
“It’s complicated.” Those expressive eyes were full of so much doubt and uncertainty. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with my life.”
“So? You don’t have to have a plan for everything all the time.”
“I do. Do you know the last time I didn’t know exactly where my life was going and how I was going to get there? Fifth grade, when my parents divorced and had to sort out custody, which was really trying to work out whose career trying to save the world was inconvenienced the least by having to deal with me. I don’t just bounce along without a plan. Ever. Because I have to know I have somewhere to land.”
Cam bled for her. He knew what it was to be abandoned by a parent because of career. But at least he’d had his mom. He’d always been able to count on her. On the rest of his family. He wanted to tug Norah back into his arms, but he didn’t think she’d let him. Not just now.
“Miranda and her family—your family and this town have been that for me. So I intend to win this war. I won’t watch what happened to Morton happen here. I can’t.”
She carried so much guilt. He wanted to ease that burden for her but didn’t know what he could say that she would believe. So he just brushed the hair back from her face and said in all seriousness, “We won’t.”
Norah shifted back, as if his touch pained her.
Cam felt the first hints of true unease slither through him. “What’s wrong?”
“It can’t work, Cam.”
His heart began to thud. “What can’t?”
Her eyes, those lovely, dark eyes, were full of apology. “Us.”
The hand he still held was trembling, and she looked on the verge of tears. But he couldn’t shove down the temper and disbelief, “I think the last two weeks are pretty damned good evidence to the contrary.”
“This isn’t about compatibility or attraction. But there’s no future here. There never was. I was always leaving, at some point. I have a life, a career to salvage. You just made me forget that for a while. Staying to run this campaign is a delay of the inevitable. We’re not fling kind of people, and I think it’s wiser to stop things before they go any further.”
“I pretty much blew wisdom all to hell the moment I decided to kiss you.”
“We got in over our heads. I’m just trying to do the right thing here. I don’t want to hurt you, but my life isn’t here. Not beyond the temporary.”
More than half the reason he’d asked her to stay was to give her a legitimate reason not to go back, to continue to explore what was growing between them. And she was all set to walk away.
Same song, different verse.
“If you truly think the life you left behind is worth more than what you’ve found here, then you’ve just failed Life Lessons 101. Miserably.”
She flinched and pulled her hand free. “We’ve established that’s the one area Burkes regularly fail at. Please don’t be angry. We have to be able to work together on this campaign.”
Of course. The campaign. No matter what was going on between them, he needed her to help save his town. She’d agreed to stay, however long it took. So he’d use that and find a way to convince her that there were more important things in life than career and prove that she had a place here, if only she was willing to take it.
So Cam stopped arguing. “Fine.”
Norah blinked at him. “Fine?”
“That’s not unreasonable logic.” Cam went to pour coffee because he needed to put some physical distance between them. “I don’t like it, don’t agree with it. But there are bigger things at stake here than us. We don’t have a lot of time to put this together. Just two weeks until the next City Council meeting. What’s next?”
Her shift into work mode was almost like seeing a set change for a play. She squared her shoulders, shutting her emotions away, and reached for one of the legal pads. Cam wished he could do the same as easily.
“Who has final say on this decision? Is this going to be a vote of the City Council or will it go out for a public ballot?”
“As the law currently stands, it’s a City Council vote.”
“So our goal is to persuade the decision makers to say no.” She scribbled that at the top. “There are two avenues to do that, and we’ll follow through on them both. On your side, you’ll be fighting this from within the system of city government. You know, or can find out, all the steps in the whole process of going from proposal to approval where there’s an opportunity to stop them in their tracks.”
“There aren’t nearly enough of those steps for my taste.”
“Nevertheless, we’re working with what we’ve got. You’ll be focusing on how the store would harm the community and the economy—and first thing tomorrow you should request an economic impact study from an independent contractor. Morton didn’t do that and should have.”
Cam stole one of the smaller pads and began to make his own list. “What about you?”
“My efforts will be geared toward showing how many members of the community support a ‘no’ vote.”
“Considering how many people we hypothesize will want a ‘yes,’ how do you plan to do that?”
“By educating the public—and myself—on the hidden costs of big box stores and creating a campaign to get the word out about that. But to do that I need data. About forty percent of persuasion is knowing your audience. I want to do a focus group with the local Chamber of Commerce.”
And a challenge straight out of the gate. “That’s gonna be a bit tough. The Chamber of Commerce is more or less defunct.”
“How defunct?”
“Well, I can’t really remember the last time they met. They never formally disbanded, but they haven’t actually done anything in a good five, maybe seven years. Not since I bought the nursery, and I’m technically a member.”
“Well then, now’s the time to revive it. Local businesses are going to be the biggest potential allies in this fight, as they’re the ones who have the most to lose.”
He couldn’t fault her logic. “I’ll make some calls, put something together.”
“Good. Let me know when and where. If we can get a venue with a marker or chalkboard, that would be really helpful, but in a pinch I can pick up a flip chart and easel.” She began listing things out in a smaller notebook.
“Should be able to set something up at the community center. I’m pretty sure they’ve got markerboards floating around there somewhere. I’ll go by and book the space tomorrow.”
“Good. Do you think they’d be willing to show up out of concern and civic duty or should we offer incentives?”
He offered her a steaming mug. “Incentives?”
“Feeding people is always a popular way to get butts in chairs.”
“I expect we can get people to show up either way.”
“Then we’ll save that for when we have a head count to see if it’s within the budget. What is the budget?”
“Budget?
” When he’d concocted this plan, he hadn’t thought that far ahead.
“My skills aren’t the only expense of a marketing campaign.”
Maybe it’s a good thing she decided to do this pro bono. “I’d have to do some figuring.”
“This isn’t a big city, so the big ticket items like TV spots are unnecessary and wouldn’t be hitting our target audience anyway. We’ll focus on guerrilla marking and low budget, grassroots tactics.” She made more notes, this time on one of the larger pads.
“Guerrilla marketing? Do I need to pick up some greasepaint and a ghillie suit?”
“Guerrilla marketing focuses on tactics outside the traditional realm—thinking outside the box instead of focusing on mass marketing through traditional media. Ideally we’d have a much longer period of time to build something, but since we don’t, it’s vital that we define our target audience, figure out who the best local influencers are—that’s where I hope to loop in the local business owners—and get them to help spread the word. This is a small town. Everybody knows everybody else, and gossip is the currency of the day. Our goal is to get that working to our advantage to get a Shop Local campaign off the ground.”
He blinked at her, trying to process everything she’d said. “Wow. That’s…I don’t know. A bit more elaborate than I was expecting.”
“That’s not even a full basic prospectus. What exactly did you think you were asking me to do?”