by Kait Nolan
“Anything you want.”
“Bulletin boards.”
He laughed. “Seriously?”
“As many as you can beg, borrow, or steal.”
“Your wish, milady.”
Chapter 17
“I need a favor.”
Cassie shoved up her sleeves and braced herself, all but vibrating with the desire for a mission. “Name it, friend.”
Cam leaned across the counter at The Daily Grind and dropped his voice. “We’re having an unofficial meeting before the debate tonight. I need you to see that nobody comes upstairs except myself, Norah, and the City Council.”
“So you need me to run interference in case a certain pretentious city official happens to show up?”
“Him or anyone else.”
Curiosity lit her eyes. “Are we having a covert op planning session?”
Cam laughed. “Nothing so exciting as that. I just wanted a chance to talk to them off book about some stuff before we get to the debate, that’s all.”
Cassie pouted. “I think we should plot a mission to slash the tires on that new Lexus he’s running around in, acting like he owns the town. Prick.”
“Vick got a new car?”
“Yep. Top of the line SUV with heated seats and all those bells and whistles, like the automatic stop and back up camera and whatever. He was totally bragging on it to Neil Faber at the latest Rotary Club meeting.”
Cam wondered how the hell Vick was affording something like that on the City Planner’s salary. Then again, qualifying for the loan and truly being able to afford it were two different things. Vick was absolutely the kind of guy who’d choose appearances over practicality.
“You aren’t a member of the Rotary Club. How’d you know about that?”
“Please. I never reveal my sources.”
“Fair enough. I appreciate that I can count on your discretion, Cass.”
The door opened and Norah came in, laptop bag slung over her shoulder and two of the bulletin boards that had taken over his loft tucked under both arms. Cam hurried over to relieve her of the boards.
“You ready?”
“As I’m going to be.” But she didn’t have the easy confidence he’d come to associate with her presentations.
Cam knew he’d set an impossible task for her. Part of why she was good was because she was thorough, and less than forty-eight hours was hardly adequate for an in depth study of the topic. He was relying on her panache and natural persuasion to carry the day.
“You’ll be great.”
His assurance didn’t seem to make much of a dent in the doubts swirling in her eyes.
They’d set up the boards and laid out the folders of informative material at each seat by the time the other Council members arrived. By then, Norah had her game face on, calm and confident.
When she nodded she was ready, Cam launched in. “I realize you’re all taking time out of your busy schedules to be here. I thank you for that.
“You wanna tell us why we’re having this meeting now instead of as part of tonight’s debate?” Connie demanded.
“There are things relevant to the debate that aren’t on the agenda tonight, and I wanted an opportunity to present them without interference.”
“Meaning you don’t want Vick to know about them,” Hank said.
“It’s no secret there’s no love lost between me and Vick, but this isn’t about that. Wishful has a problem. A big one. We all know it. We’ve all watched it get bigger and bigger over the last few years at every one of our budgetary meetings. Money simply isn’t coming into town, into the city coffers at a rate sufficient to support the existing infrastructure, public services, or city salaries. We’ve all taken pay cuts or cut back hours. The public library is down to a single full-time employee, a couple of part-timers, and a small group of volunteers. The police force is operating on a shoe string, and God help us if we have any kind of fire that the volunteer departments can’t handle.”
“That’s exactly why we want GrandGoods,” Connie said. “The sales tax alone from that kind of store would be a Godsend.”
“The quarter percent we get above what goes to the state is not going to be enough to support the additional wear and tear on the public infrastructure. And that’s all a matter for tonight’s debate. The point I’m making here is that GrandGoods is no savior. They’ll bring as many problems as they might potentially solve, and they certainly aren’t going to fix the long term economic decline we’ve been trapped in.”
“This is all the same song, different verse, Cam,” Grace said. “Why are we here now? And why is Norah here? She isn’t part of the City Council. No offense, honey.”
“I’m here to give you an alternative. GrandGoods is appealing because it’s an option. And up to this point, it’s been the only option for y’all to consider. But that’s no longer the case.”
“Is this more about the Shop Local movement?” Connie asked.
“Despite the fact that the Shop Local campaign is still in relatively early stages, there has already been a twenty-five percent increase in local revenues over the last month. With the recent media exposure, we anticipate that trend will continue—as long as we work to maintain the momentum. What I have in mind is bigger, broader, and will have more impact on the overall economic health of Wishful.”
Ed Falk leaned back in his chair and sipped at his coffee. “We’re listening.”
Cam watched his fellow Council members as she explained the entire concept behind rural tourism. Connie continued to be closed off, face set in annoyed lines during most of the presentation. Grace and Hank both appeared intrigued. And Ed…well who could ever tell what he thought unless he said something?
“You think people would want to come here for fun?” Hank asked.
“I know they will. Wishful and other small towns like it really touch something nostalgic for people who live in the city. Life here is so much more connected in a very real way—person to person, and also person to nature. People would come here to remember how life used to be, how it ought to be. To gain perspective and unplug from the relentless rat race of American society and plug in to the important things in life.”
“How would we even go about starting something like that?” Grace asked. “Wouldn’t it cost a lot of money?”
“Not necessarily. You start with the resources Wishful already has. The cultural identity. The history. The fountain and the lore that goes with it. And, most especially, Hope Springs. Think about all the stuff you show to out-of-towners when they come to visit. The things that you’re proud of or that really bring home to outsiders, this is what Wishful is.”
She paused and opened the folder in front of her, gesturing the rest of them to do the same. “From there, it’s a matter of marketing, like anything else. You start by focusing on day trips. As you can see here, those fall into two categories: long ones, from up to two hundred miles away, and short ones, within about a fifty mile radius. It’s the latter that makes the most sense to promote.
“Wishful is exactly halfway between Oxford and Starkville. There are multiple submarkets in both those locations, but just to name a few, you have the potential to tap into the enormous number of people who roll into town for basketball, baseball, and football season at Ole Miss and MSU, who want to attend the game but don’t want to be caught up in the crazy by actually staying in town. We’re also close enough that both universities could use us as a selling point when recruiting new faculty and students, just like Ole Miss does with Taylor.
“Past day trips, you focus on pass-through visits, both for the day and overnight. Overnights could be weekends or full on vacations. We’re less well positioned for that, at the moment, since there’s only the B and B and the Mockingbird Motel at the edge of town, with maximum occupancy at both being less than a hundred people, but provided the campaign is successful, and sustainable growth recorded, we could position ourselves as the ideal site for new businesses in the hospitality industry.�
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Cam jumped in. “There are a lot of options, a lot of directions that could be taken. But the point is that rural tourism is a sustainable option that focuses on what’s already here and doesn’t run the risk of putting the majority of jobs in the hands of a company that could pull up stakes and leave. That’s happened too many times before, and we won’t survive it again.”
“It’s an intriguing concept, to be sure,” Ed admitted.
“Sounds like a long-term kind of project,” Hank said.
“It absolutely is,” Norah agreed. “And it’s something that can be adapted to fit whatever budget or staff you have to work with. From a purely pennies perspective, simply setting up a properly designed website, geared to drive interest toward the existing resources you have would be an excellent start.”
“Of course, all that depends on those resources remaining available,” Cam said. “That means voting down the special use permit for the land by Hope Springs and either sending GrandGoods packing or forcing them to pick a new location.”
“In the event we voted down the permit,” Grace said, “in order to effectively use Hope Springs as a tourist draw, we’d have to come to some kind of agreement with Abe Costello. Those aren’t public lands out there and the city can’t afford to buy the property.”
“The specifics of how all that would work can come later. The fundamental issue at stake right now is that this permit is voted down so that it can be discussed later. Can I count on you?”
“You know we aren’t going to commit one way or the other without hearing the debate,” Grace chided.
“Well, I’m happy to take this under advisement,” Hank said. “And I’d really like to see additional development of the concept so that we can revisit it in the future.”
Ed and Grace conceded the same. Connie said nothing.
Out of additional selling points, Cam adjourned the meeting. “See y’all at the debate tonight.”
They filed out, leaving Cam no more confident of their support than when they’d arrived. “I wish I felt better about that.”
Norah rubbed a hand down his back. “We did what we could do in the time we had. It’s not the only weapon in our arsenal. Elissa Brosnan is supposed to get here at five with Dillon. Will you be able to join us for dinner to go over strategy before the debate?”
“I’ll be there. Do you know if she finished the economic impact study?”
“Not completely. But her preliminary results are enough to call into serious question the methods used by the other firm.”
“Well, let’s just pray it’s enough to make the rest of them waffle.”
~*~
The courthouse was packed. People were wedged into the wooden benches in the public seating on the main level and up in the gallery. More stood two and three deep around the edges. The coalition was a notable presence, but there were an equal number of faces Norah didn’t recognize. Almost all of them were either zoned out or confused.
At the front of the courtroom, Dr. Elissa Brosnan, professor of economics from the University of Mississippi, was engaged in active debate with Arnold Chiles, the representative from the firm who’d produced the original economic impact study. From a purely academic standpoint, Dr. Brosnan was winning. But the entire discussion was taking place at a level of technicality that the vast majority of those present couldn’t possibly follow. That wasn’t exactly confidence inspiring.
“Are you understanding this?” Miranda whispered.
“Most of it, but I’ve been up to my eyeballs in this stuff for weeks now.”
The Council members were tired. Norah could see it in their postures, read it in their faces. This discussion was closing in on an hour long, and that after almost an hour spent rehashing the issue of infrastructure upgrade that would be required. An upgrade that GrandGoods vowed to foot the bill for. Damn it.
They were being far too conciliatory. All smiles, all agreement. Bill Sutto and Vick Burgess were all up in each others’ pockets. They even seemed buddy-buddy with Arnold Chiles, which made Norah wonder if there was a connection between them that made Chiles less than an unbiased party. If they could prove it, would it be enough to call into question the results of the study? Or would it just be considered the delay tactic it was intended to be?
“Thank you, Dr. Brosnan, for that…in-depth opinion. You’ve given us plenty to consider.” As the professor took her seat, Sandra continued, “Are there additional concerns anyone wishes to raise?”
Norah knew Cam had been hanging on to the traffic flow issue, but before he could speak, Bill Sutto asked for the floor.
“Thank you, Madam Mayor. I know that there is a great deal of concern about how GrandGoods would impact Wishful. You are a small town with considerable charm, and you don’t want to lose that. We absolutely respect and appreciate your position. While it’s true that our store would bring in several thousand more vehicles locally per day, there are means of mitigating the impact of that traffic burden so that the character of Wishful remains intact. We took the liberty of having a traffic engineer conduct a study of the existing traffic flow and make recommendations for the best means of minimizing the intrusion into the community.” Sutto moved out from behind his table and began to pass out packets to the City Council members.
Shit. By bringing up the issue first, Sutto reinforced the idea that they had the community’s best interests at heart.
“We can’t trust anything they’ve paid for,” Norah hissed. “They’ll have professionals in their pocket to make sure they come across as lily white and innocent.”
“Surely the Council won’t just swallow it whole,” Tyler murmured.
Cam was on it. “Motion to adjourn to allow sufficient time for the Council to review the report.”
“Why?” Connie Lockwood demanded. “So you can waste more tax payer dollars trying to find someone to give the opinion you want?”
The audience burst into a flurry of exclamations that had Sandra pounding her gavel for order. Though Norah could see the temper on Cam’s face, he held it together, not snapping back at Connie.
“What is her problem?” Miranda muttered.
“She’s voting with her wallet,” Tyler said.
Dr. Brosnan lifted her hand. “To be clear, I’m here on my own. I’m not being paid.”
“There has been a motion to adjourn for the City Council to review the traffic engineer’s report,” Sandra said.
No one seconded the motion.
“We all know how we’re going to vote,” Hank said. “Unless there’s some other evidence we need to consider—legitimate evidence, not stalling tactics—motion to proceed to vote.”
“Second,” Connie said, impatient to be done with the proceedings.
Sandra waited, eyes scanning the crowd for any further objections. A muscle in her jaw jumped, the same way Cam’s did when he was frustrated. Norah wracked her brain, trying to think of something else to say, something else to bring up. But the coalition’s efforts were exhausted. She met Cam’s eyes across the room as his mother reluctantly said, “Motion to vote on the special use permit for the proposed parcel of land is approved.”
This was it. The moment they’d been working toward for weeks, pulling out all the stops to sway public opinion and that of the rest of the Council. Norah reached out and grabbed Miranda’s and Tyler’s hands.
On the front row of the audience, Molly Montgomery stood. “Motion for roll call vote.”
“Seconded,” Cam said.
“Motion for roll call vote approved.”
They would know, without question, who stood where. Norah held her breath as Sandra started.
“Proceeding with roll call vote on the issue of a special use permit allowing commercial construction of a retail space on the proposed parcel of land. Councilman van Buren.”
“Aye.”
Damn it. She’d thought maybe they’d been able to turn Hank.
“Councilman Falk.”
Edgar was the d
ark horse. Cam said he was never sure which way the older man would vote. His voice rang out clear and confident. “Nay.”
One to one.
“Councilwoman Lockwood.”
“Aye.”
No surprise there.
“Councilman Crawford.”
“Nay.” Cam’s voice came out a couple steps above a growl as all eyes turned to Grace.
“Councilwoman Handeford.”
Grace paused as if still deliberating.
Oh please. Oh please. Oh please. Do the right thing. Norah stared hard at the older woman, willing her to give the answer they needed. She cranked down on her friends’ hands.
Grace’s gaze skimmed the crowd, one final assessment of sentiment before dropping her eyes and giving a quiet, “Aye.”
Norah’s heart sank.
Sandra’s gavel hovered, as if giving the other woman a chance to recant. When she said nothing, Sandra lifted her gavel, reluctance slowing the motion. She rapped once. “The special use permit for the proposed parcel of land is approved by a margin of three to two.”
No.
Norah lost whatever was said next because of the roaring in her ears. Or maybe that was the roar of the crowd. Down front, she could see Vick Burgess and Bill Sutto congratulating each other. Both men turned to Arnold Chiles, glad handing him for his role in their victory.
GrandGoods had won.
Chapter 18
“Here, looks like y’all could use this.” Tucker handed Cam and Norah glasses of Scotch.
Cam tossed his back, wishing the burn of alcohol could mitigate the crushing disappointment of their defeat. Beside him, Norah rolled the tumbler between her hands, the ice cube making a soft clink against the glass. She’d said nothing since the City Council meeting adjourned and they’d reconvened at Tucker’s downtown apartment. This late, nothing was open, and they’d all felt the need to debrief. Except no one seemed inclined to break the silence.
Breaking the silence meant saying the words. Admitting the truth of their failure out loud would make it real. All that work, all that planning, and Goliath had won after all. Since they left the courthouse, Cam had been second-guessing every decision they’d made, wondering what they’d done or hadn’t done that might’ve tipped the balance. Had it been a mistake to keep the rural tourism aspect quiet? Would it have been better to present it, as undeveloped a plan as it was, in the public forum? Or would the townsfolk have seen it for what it was—grasping at straws?