The Single Dad Finds a Wife

by Felicia Mason

  Concentrating on regulating her breathing, she nodded. “I’m fine, Mom.”

  She released the chair and clasped her hands together in her lap on top of the mobile phone.

  She should have known that a man like David Camden was too good to be true. He was a loving father and a man of faith. He was the first man to capture her feminine attention in many years.

  And he was here to destroy her family’s home and legacy.

  Chapter Six

  David saw her the moment he turned around to assess the crowd the fire chief had described as “openly hostile” as they’d made their way to the meeting room.

  He’d walked in with Fire Chief Cameron Jackson and with Gloria, the helpful clerk who’d arranged for his meetings and helped him set up the items from his large portfolio.

  Dr. Spring Darling sat front and center, staring daggers at him. The expression was one he’d always considered hyperbole until he saw those daggers directed his way. He saw disgust, distrust and sadness in her eyes. Her look cut him in a way that might cause actual physical wounds.

  He wanted to rush over, to tell her that everything would be all right. But he knew that was not and could not be the case—at least where Spring, her mother and her sisters were concerned.

  The main thing David wanted to get across during his presentation was that he was not a developer, that Carolina Land Associates studied and made recommendations on land use. The architectural side of the firm came up with renderings that would later be used by development firms. It was up to governing bodies to decide whether to proceed with a development project or not.

  It took him about twenty minutes to run through his presentation. He answered a few clarification questions from the commissioners and then the meeting was open to questions from the floor.

  David heaved an internal sigh when he saw who rose.

  “How often are your recommendations followed by said governing bodies?”

  The query from the audience came from Dr. Spring Darling.

  “State your name, please,” the clerk said.

  “Spring Darling, MD, and member of the Cedar Springs Historical Society, as you well know.”

  David felt that information was directed at him rather than the council clerk, who did well know who Spring was.

  He knew the answer, of course. Those data represented one of the benchmarks on which his architectural and consultancy firm could base success. There were a few ways he could answer the question, but the most direct and honest was the best approach.

  “Thank you for that question, Dr. Darling,” he said, walking closer to the assembled residents, the digital pointer he’d used to highlight points on the renderings in his palm. “Carolina Land Associates has a strong track record of meeting client needs. Our most recent analysis of that very data shows a 95.8 percent rate of acceptance of our primary recommendations.”

  Before Spring could answer, an older woman next to her, who could only have been her mother, rose. She wore a peach-colored dress and had the same coloring, cheekbones and eyes as Spring. He knew he was looking at an older version of the doctor and could see exactly what the pretty pediatrician would look like in thirty years—an older, more mature but still beautiful woman. Right now though, he also saw something close to anger in the eyes of the older version of Spring Darling.

  “So you’re telling us, Mr. Camden, that your top recommendation for this project, the new urbanism community you’re preliminarily calling The Township at Cedar Springs, is parcel two?”

  David glanced back at the easels and used the pointer to pinpoint the parcel she referred to. “It’s larger, at just about two hundred acres, and this parcel is ideal for a mixed-use development,” he said. “It wouldn’t require the easements or the purchase of any existing construction or property. As you can see, unlike parcel one or parcel three, it has little developed land and abuts a trail that could be expanded into a nature—”

  “Didn’t you say your condo, retail and business development project needs a minimum of three hundred and preferably three-hundred seventy-five acres?”

  “Yes, but—”

  Before he could finish, the woman next to Spring Darling’s mother was on her feet.

  “And you plan to steal those additional two hundred acres via eminent domain. And before you can ask, Gloria, my name is Georgina Lundsford, and you,” she said, pointing a hand that trembled with rage at David, “can build it over my dead body.”

  “Point of order,” one of the planning commissioners said. “Georgina, sit down before we have to call the cops to haul you out of here.”

  “Was that a threat?” Mrs. Lundsford said, making as if she was about to climb over the chair in front of her and do something about it.

  Several in the audience apparently interpreted the words as such and rose to Mrs. Lundsford’s defense.

  “It’s just these bully tactics that are giving Cedar Springs a bad name!” someone called from the back.

  “You tell ’em, Ross!”

  Mrs. Lundsford reached down, and David briefly wondered if she would straighten up with a .38 or .45 aimed at him.

  David wisely retreated to the table, where he stood behind both it and a chair.

  Chief Llewelyn apparently hadn’t been joking about the possible need for Kevlar or other protective gear in the planning commission meeting. David had foolishly thought that mere hyperbole. While Spring Darling and her mother may have been wishing him ill, Georgina Lundsford might very well act on that anger.

  A moment later, though, she started reading—at the top of her lungs—from a booklet she held. And it sounded a whole lot like the US Constitution.

  He glanced at Spring. She was leaning across her mother and trying to get the Lundsford woman to sit down and stop hollering at him and the commissioners. David had been following the reports in the Cedar Springs Gazette with a modicum of skepticism, but now he discovered the newspaper’s online accounts had failed to capture the animosity that existed about this proposal.

  David didn’t have a personal opinion one way or the other. His goal was to get the planning commission to approve the preliminary plans, which would pave the way for the city council to give Carolina Land Associates the contract to draw up detailed architectural renderings for whichever site the city deemed suitable for a mixed-use project of shops, restaurants, businesses, residences and entertainment venues.

  As more rumbling and grumbling came forth, David got a pretty good idea of just how angry mob mentality led to violence.

  The chair of the planning commission was on his feet and still arguing with the man who’d accused him of being a bully. Georgina Lundsford had reached the Fourth Amendment and was practically screeching about “the right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures.”

  The ever-growing hubbub included voices shouting encouragement like “That’s right!” and a chant that was building up over the words of the Constitution: “We’re gonna sue. We’re gonna sue.”

  A big voice suddenly boomed over the din.

  “Why doesn’t everybody just take a seat?”

  Heads turned to see Police Chief Zachary Llewelyn come in from the back, two officers flanking him. The chief made his way toward the front of the room while the two cops stood on either side of the assembled residents, who slowly looked around. Many sat again with uncertain looks at the officers and the police chief.

  David hadn’t anticipated being glad to see the law, but he sure hoped the big police chief could control his town. Cedar Springs, North Carolina, was supposed to be a sleepy little suburban city populated by professionals who worked in the Research Triangle area and commuted home to serenity every evening. Its residents were supposed to be retirees who liked the small-town vibe with city ameniti
es, those who preferred a more altruistic approach to life. Apparently, they were willing to defend that to the core.

  “You all right over there, Mr. Camden?”

  David nodded to the police chief.

  “You all ought to be ashamed of yourselves,” Llewelyn told the gathered assembly. “Mrs. Lundsford, I told you after the last city council meeting that if you disrupted another public meeting, you were going to be cited.”

  “But, Chief, he...”

  The police chief held up a hand. “With all due respect to you, Mrs. Lundsford, you were warned. The fine is going to cost you seventy-five dollars. Please don’t up that misdemeanor to a felony. I don’t want to arrest you.”

  She huffed and sat down with her Constitution, clearly not happy.

  “Dr. Darling?”

  David watched as Spring looked up at the police chief.

  “I know you and your family have a vested interest in these proceedings, but you’re going to have to control your historical society members.”

  David watched her reaction to the rebuke and felt for her. Her expression didn’t change, but he thought he detected weariness in her eyes.

  “I don’t want to or plan to step on anybody’s First Amendment rights to speak,” the police chief told her, “but it has to remain civil. Understood?”

  Spring nodded. She rose, followed by her mother and Georgina Lundsford. Others in the row made way as the three passed. Then about a dozen others who had been scattered throughout the audience joined the trio.

  One of the officers who’d come in with the chief trailed them out of the room. When the door closed behind them, David looked at the planning commissioners, whose faces reflected varying degrees of shock and dismay.

  “Well,” Chief Llewelyn said to the front panel. “Looks like you’ll be able to finish your meeting in peace.”

  He walked to the back of the room and took a seat. The other officer remained on guard at the side of the room, presumably to escort out any other troublemakers.

  The chair of the commission cleared his throat, then looked at his colleagues. “Uh, are there any other questions from the floor?”

  No one said a word.

  “All right. Is there a motion to accept and approve the preliminary plans from Carolina Land Associates?”

  The woman to his left raised her hand. “I make a motion to accept and approve the three parcels within the city of Cedar Springs presented by Carolina Land Associates and to send the proposal to the city council with our recommendation to approve Carolina Land Associates as the architect and land use company of record for a mixed-use development in Cedar Springs.”

  Within moments, the motion was seconded and unanimously approved. The chair called the meeting adjourned, and David stared at the three charts on the easels.

  He’d won.

  Then why, he wondered, did the victory feel so hollow?

  * * *

  In the hallway, Spring seethed. Not only had she been publicly chastised and embarrassed; David Camden had played her for a fool, not once but twice.

  She wasn’t sure which hurt the most.

  That was a lie.

  David’s betrayal hurt more. She’d expected the planning commission meeting to be pro forma. She’d just wanted them, and therefore Mayor Bernadette Howell, to know that they were on notice with the Cedar Springs Historical Society that this battle would not be an easy one.

  What she hadn’t expected was to be blindsided by her emotions.

  She’d made a connection with David Camden, a connection that he’d thoroughly exploited.

  Her mother and Georgina went to see to Georgina’s police citation. Spring had a good mind to call their attorney to see if that could be challenged, but as people began filing out of the multipurpose room, she realized the meeting had ended.

  “What happened?” she asked the first person who approached—Ross Parsons, who’d jumped up to defend Georgina. He wasn’t a historical society member, but he owned land adjacent to one of the three parcels. Like Spring, he saw what was coming down the road and didn’t think it boded well.

  The man shook his head. “Rubber-stamped to the council with a gift bow slapped on top.”

  Spring shook her head in disgust; she’d expected as much. “Figures.”

  She was about to go in search of her mother when someone called her name. She turned to find David Camden hurrying to catch up with her and the historical society members.

  “I have nothing to say to you,” she told him.

  “Let me explain,” David said.

  “Explain? You lied to me.”

  “I did no such thing,” David said.

  “First, you let me believe you were homeless, and now,” she said, gesturing toward his large portfolio, “you gave a lie of omission.”

  “Did I?” he asked, not bothering to mask the sarcastic tone of the inquiry. “Was that when I told you and the receptionist at the free clinic that I could pay for my son’s care and that I had insurance? Or maybe it was at the hospital when you were so busy throwing facts and figures at me about Common Ground’s community care projects? Is that when, Spring? I told you in the hospital’s cafeteria that I wasn’t homeless. But you had a notion in your head and decided not to hear me. And I told you I was an architect in the city for business. I didn’t know I was required to tell my kid’s doctor my entire life story with a résumé and reference letters.”

  For several awful moments she wordlessly stared as he walked her back through all their encounters.

  He’d arrived at the community care clinic with Jeremy in his arms. She’d just assumed...

  And when they were talking in the hospital cafeteria, he’d said they weren’t homeless and was about to say something else when she’d been called to the emergency department to help with its short staffing. That was unusual enough to warrant her justified distraction from their conversation—a conversation they’d never finished.

  Embarrassed, Spring glanced at the floor. “I’ve been...” she started, swallowed and then looked up to meet his gaze. She’d made a major error. Her judgment had been clouded by what was on the surface—maybe in an attempt to quell the almost immediate attraction she’d had toward him, an attraction that was overwhelming in its sheer being.

  “I made some assumptions,” she told him. “And that’s something I shouldn’t have done. I’m sorry, David.”

  He sighed, the anger seeming to drain from him as he shifted the laptop bag on his shoulder.

  “I didn’t mean to lose my temper with you,” he said. He nodded toward the room they’d recently vacated. “I wasn’t prepared for that type of reception.”

  “You should have been,” snapped a woman who was standing nearby and clearly eavesdropping.

  “It’s all right, Mary,” Spring said. “Why don’t you go catch up with the others? I’m fine here.”

  “Are you sure, Dr. Spring?”

  Spring assured her that she was. Then, with a dubious look at David, the woman nodded. “You holler if you need some backup.”

  “I will,” Spring told her with a gentle smile. The woman departed, and so did the warmth in Spring’s voice and demeanor.

  She took a step back, putting distance between them. Her moment of contrition about her assumptions had ended, and the reality of the situation came crashing back on her. “Your mission is to destroy my house!”

  She may have been mistaken about his financial solvency, but on this she was more than certain. David Camden’s objective in Cedar Springs, North Carolina, was to destroy her home, the history and heritage of the six generations of Darlings who’d come before her.

  “You’re here to steal my land,” she added.

  He shook his head. “I’m here to give the city council recommendations on three p
roposed sites.”

  “One of which is the mayor’s preferred location. And, I might add, a location that goes straight through Darling land—land she is probably already finagling to snatch via eminent domain.”

  “You could extend to the city a right of way, easements.”

  Spring snorted. “A fat lot of good that will do when a four-lane thoroughfare is on one side and a twenty-four-hour burger-hangout-slash-fast-food-drive-through-slash-gas-station-slash-multiplex-theater is on the other.”

  David folded his arms and regarded her. His laugh held no humor. “You’re one of them,” he said.

  “One of who?”

  “One of those self-righteous do-gooders who like to do good for the unfortunate,” he said, adding air quotes around the word unfortunate, “as long as the application of said services doesn’t touch your backyard. In my field, we have a name for folks like you, NIMBY. That stands for—”

  “I know what it stands for,” Spring snapped. “And this isn’t about my backyard. It’s about preserving history. You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me, so you can keep your little name-calling and stereotyping to yourself.”

  Had the ice in the air between them been real, her words could not have been colder.

  “Why would you think that this wouldn’t be important to me?”

  “Spring, I never said it wasn’t important to you. I have a job to do here. That task is to integrate design with function and present options to elected officials and city staff.”

  “Options? What options?”

  “They are as varied as each of the properties,” he said, hedging.

  “And among those options can be recommend taking the whole thing to some other city?”

  David sighed and ran a hand over his face. “This is getting us nowhere, Spring. I’d like the opportunity to show you what it is I do. I think there are some misconceptions about exactly what that is and what I’m in Cedar Springs for.”

  Spring was pretty sure she knew exactly what it was he did and what Mayor Howell had in mind for the city. But for the sake of peace, she was willing to go along with him. They were on opposite sides of this issue, and there was little he could do to sway her on the topic of development.