“Okay.” He put the pen down, and I exhaled a silent, relieved breath as Dad leaned back in his chair, pressing his fingertips together against his lips. “I see what you’re saying.” He lifted the proposal, taking a few moments to read before setting it back down. “It says the current owner is asking five hundred thousand dollars for the site.” Dad sat back in his chair, thinking. “That’s more than the town can afford. Not to mention renovations could be millions of dollars. Millions, Elaina. Where in the world do you think we could get that kind of money?”
I shrugged, giving him a pained smile. “Fundraising? Grants?”
With a sigh, Dad slipped his glasses off, tossed them onto the desk, and rubbed his eyes. “It’s a good idea. I just don’t know how realistic it is.”
To say my heart dropped would be a gross understatement. It plummeted, bottoming out in my stomach. Dad and I had very different visions for our town. He wanted money. All the money.
Not in an evil, Scrooge sort of way, but he wasn’t discerning about how we brought people into our town or what kind of tourism we wanted. The idea of outlet shoppers didn’t make Dad cringe in the same way it made me. He didn’t see the folly in building a Starbucks. All he saw was more commerce, which would bring more people to the town. But what I saw? The charm of our little town would dwindle. Instead of tourists reaching for that which they know so well, such as their daily Starbucks fix, they have no choice but to try the amazing arabica at Elsa’s diner. Or Lex’s incredible Fruity Pebble Latte over at Latte Da… which, yeah, sounded disgusting, but it was delicious and made with milk that’d had Fruity Pebbles soaking in it. Or even, as much as I hated to admit it, the espresso over at Liam and Neil’s.
When their mother ran The Maple Grove Cupcakery, it wasn’t my favorite coffee place. They used a cheap blend of coffee—the kind you can get at a gas station. But since Neil and Liam took over, they started carrying quality coffee from a Portsmouth roaster and used high-end espresso beans to make Americanos and cortados.
But when people travel, they naturally gravitate to what they know… Starbucks. Target. Panera. Our local Maple Grove businesses would take a hit and they would blame Dad—and me by proxy—potentially costing us the next election, but more importantly, costing us the well-being of our town.
Or was Dad right? Maybe the added people the shopping center would bring into town would make up for the business lost to large corporations.
“I’ll tell you what,” Dad said. “Draw up a plan for the old mill, then get signatures from the city council members indicating their interest in funding a municipal property on that site. I want you to develop a full thought-out plan for what you would do with it – not a maybe this or that plan. I want to know exactly what you propose we build there. I want a budget. Fundraising plans. And be clear about how it would benefit the town.”
My mouth went dry. What he was describing could easily take weeks… and he wanted it done in less than a month? Hell, getting the signatures alone from the council members could take me a couple weeks. Some of those nuts were tough to crack.
I nodded. Because, really, what else could I do at that point? “I can do that.” Man, I hoped my false bravado was believable.
Dad smiled and slid the papers back toward me. “I hope so. I like your idea better. Even if I do enjoy those Frappa-whatevers they have at Starbucks.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You know Lex makes one that’s pretty similar, right?”
His eyes lit up. “Really? Well, I know where I’m going before heading home. Where are you off to next?”
I checked the time on my cell phone. It was almost five o’clock. Normally, that meant I’d be heading home soon, but now? It was going to be late nights for the next couple weeks. “I guess I’ll pass by Matteo’s and Nora’s offices. See if I can get a head start on lobbying.” I waved the proposal in the air as I backed out of his office.
Dad nodded, a curve of his mouth twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile. But it was close. “Go get ‘em, Lovebug.”
“Dad.”
He put both hands up in surrender. “Sorry. Elaina.”
I sighed. Getting him to use my real name at the office was even more of an uphill battle than getting him to see the problem areas of this strip mall. Old habits die hard.
But I loved working for this town. And, not to toot my own horn or anything, I was damn good at my job.
Toot, toot.
I turned, exiting his office. “Elaina?” he called.
I paused in the doorway to face him, head tilted in question. He tapped his pen to his bottom lip. “Your sister was in here earlier. Did she manage to find you?”
I shook my head no. “How long ago was she here?”
He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Maybe twenty minutes before you came in.”
Well, that was weird. She didn’t usually come to the office at the end of the day. It was typically around lunch time when she would beg me to join her for a bite. Most times, I didn’t. I had too much to do. I was thrilled for her that she’s getting the exact life she wanted—marrying a dentist, staying home and being an amazing wife and eventual stay-at-home mom. But I loved my job. I wanted to work. Even if I married a billionaire tomorrow, I wouldn’t give up my position here as town manager.
Hmm, marry a billionaire. Maybe that’s how I could pay for this property. If only. There were no billionaires that I knew of in Maple Grove.
I didn’t scoff at her lifestyle choices when she quit her job as soon as Dan proposed. I just wished she could afford me the same respect. But every time she visited the office, there was pity in her eyes as she looked at me eating my yogurt and almonds at my desk for lunch.
I like yogurt. I like almonds. It might seem boring and predictable to some, but it was comforting to me.
I felt all my muscles seizing up as I thought about it. The frustration of being seen as a tight-ass spinster, despite the fact that I wasn’t even thirty yet. But that’s what happens in a small town… especially when your little sister is getting married first. And your boyfriend of several years heartlessly dumps you right before the holidays. People look at you with pity.
I glanced again at the clock. Maybe she wanted me to join her for happy hour? Actually, a glass of wine after the day I’d had didn’t sound half bad. Even though Chloe drank her body weight in alcohol this weekend, we didn’t get a lot of time together. It was mostly girl time with her friends from out of town, and I was the one arranging the festivities… well, Beefcakes excluded.
“What was she here for?” I asked Dad.
He shrugged. “She came in looking for you. She said she had to show you something really important.”
Huh. Very weird. I was here in the office all day. If she’d really wanted to find me, she could have. “I guess it wasn’t that important if she didn’t try to find me.”
Dad shrugged. “She seemed upset.”
I rolled my eyes. “When is she not in a tizzy about something?” There was probably some wedding issue, like the table linens were cream colored, not eggshell.
“No, Elaina,” Dad said, his voice suddenly more somber. “She wasn’t in her typical wedding panic. She seemed… worried.” He paused. “It was different.”
I gulped as concern slammed into me like a tidal wave. Chloe was the more emotional one, sure. But when she got that way, usually, she would burst into our offices, crying and flailing her arms about, as she complained loudly about whatever it was. When she was upset, everyone in a five-mile radius knew why. It wasn’t like her to keep it a secret. Or to enter with quiet concern. And our father never placated that sort of bullshit. It’s why he and I were so similar—even with our different ideals—and why we worked together so well.
Dad’s eyes locked onto mine, and I could see the worry in the tight lines framing his eyes. I gave him a single nod. “I’ll call her. Tonight… now.”
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
As I exited his office
, I tugged my phone free from my back pocket and punched in a text to Chloe… I guess the city council signatures could wait for a minute.
Heard you came by the office. Happy hour at Nick’s in 30 min?
Before I put my phone away, I noticed I had three text messages from friends. A couple were from yesterday, but I’d been so exhausted when we got home from the beach house that I had fallen asleep on my couch at eight o’clock.
Another was from my best friend who lived in Boston. Are you okay? she asked.
I typed back a quick response that I was fine, asked her why, and waited for a response. Nothing. No three dots signifying that she was responding. I sighed and slipped my phone back into my pocket and knocked on Councilman Matteo Rodriguez’s door.
“Come in,” he called.
I poked my head in first, smiling at him, and Matt grinned back at me. “Got a minute?” I asked.
He nodded and waved me in. “For my favorite town manager, always.”
Matt was an architect. Almost every member of our city council had a day job. Our little town couldn’t exactly afford to pay our public servants a decent enough salary to live on, though we tried to give them something for their time.
He stood up from behind his desk and grinned at me, the dimple in his cheek so deep, you could lose change in there. Matt was handsome with dark skin, black hair with just the slightest bit of grey at his temples, and deep brown eyes.
He had asked me out a couple months ago, and while I probably should have said yes before my lady bits grew cobwebs… I just didn’t feel it with him. And my breakup still felt too raw.
“Elaina,” he said, greeting me with a lingering handshake. “I saw your weekend was kind of a bust, huh?”
I snorted and blew a breath up toward my bangs to get them out of my face. “You have no idea. Ten women in one house. Most of which are my sister’s age? We have very different ideas of what fun is.” Admittedly, she was only a couple years younger than me, but most people assumed there was a bigger age gap than that.
“Yeah,” he laughed. “I could tell.”
I paused. He could tell? I tilted my head. Maybe I was reading too much into it. Maybe he just meant that I am obviously not the bachelorette type.... which was right. I’m not. “Um… yeah. Well, it was fine. I’m glad that part of the wedding shenanigans is over. I’ve been dreading it for months. But Chloe was so excited for it. Second to the actual wedding, of course, I think it was the party she was most looking forward to.” I laughed and rolled my eyes in spite of my sister.
Matt laughed and leaned against his desk, sitting on the edge. “Good for you for not letting it bother you.”
“Chloe getting married doesn’t bother me,” I said. That same niggling feeling tightened in my gut. Something was off. Matt and I were friends… we’re open with each other. But this was different. He was more concerned for me than usual. I could feel my face twisting in defense and confusion, creasing the center of my forehead. “My family always joked that she would be the one to come home married from Vegas.”
It was Matteo’s turn to look confused. “No… I don’t mean—It’s just… that picture. It’ll blow over soon enough.”
Picture. I racked my brain to remember what picture he might be talking about, but I came up blank. Hell, we had taken a lot of pictures this weekend. But I’d never even gotten drunk this weekend. Literally, not once. I figured we needed at least one person sober in case something happened and we needed to drive to the hospital or something. In every picture… every Instagram post, I was the sober one. My clothes were always on, which was more than I could say for some of Chloe’s friends who decided to go skinny dipping in the ocean Saturday night.
“Um… yeah. Okay.” I cleared my throat and handed him the proposal for the strip mall that the developers had sent us. “We’re having a meeting about this development soon,” I said. “I know a few people are excited over the prospect of a shopping center. But I would love the chance to propose something for the town.”
Matt tilted his head. “Like what?”
“Right now, I’m exploring our options. There’s so much we could do that would add revenue without losing our quaint charm.”
His brows lifted. “Such as…”
Damn. I thought Matt would be one of the easier signatures. “A park,” I said, immediately regretting it when his face dropped.
“Another park?”
“Or… a zip line park. Or a community center.” I waved my hands in front of me. “The point is, there’s so much we could add to our town without bringing in big corporations.” I handed him the proposal from the developer. “This shopping center will bring more people into Maple Grove, but in the long run, I fear it might put some of our locals out of business. Look it over and let me know if you have any questions.”
He smiled and set the proposal aside. “I don’t need to look at it. I actually designed the plans for the shopping center.”
That caught me off guard. “You did?”
“I did.”
Huh. Well, crap. I should have known that. Matteo was one of only two architects in the area, and it made sense that the developer would hire him, the one who was a city council member, to do the designs.
“But,” Matteo said, “I like the idea of buying the site for the city. I’m in to hear your plan. When you have one, that is.” He smiled and I sighed, relieved.
“Thank you.” I took the proposal back, clutching my notebook to my chest. Dad was right. I needed a more solid plan before I presented this idea to the other council members.
“You know, though, there’s a lot of red tape buying private land for the city, right? It usually works better when a private sale happens and then the new owner can donate the land. Unfortunately for city purchases, we usually have to lowball the price which most sellers aren’t happy with.”
I raised a brow. “So, we need to find some sort of charitable person willing to buy land to donate to the city?” Yikes. That wasn’t likely, was it?
Matt shrugged. “The tax savings on something like that are pretty substantial. Or they could rent the mill to the city.”
I stretched my neck and, with another exhausted sigh, thanked Matt again before turning to leave.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” His question stopped me mid-step, and when I turned to look at him, concern tilted his eyes.
“I’m… I’m fine.” What the hell was going on?
He nodded, the concern disappearing as he shook his head. “You’re a strong woman, Elaina. I admire that. There are days when I want to delete Facebook altogether.”
I didn’t say anything more. Just backed out of his office with a wave, feeling flustered. Thrown off. And… not much throws me off. At least, not much throws me off to a point that others can tell I’m thrown off. I’ve become quite adept at hiding that frazzled side of myself.
Something was going on. Something that involved Facebook, apparently. Did someone film them all skinny dipping at the beach? Did Dan break off the wedding with Chloe? He hasn’t been showing up to our family dinners lately. I checked my text messages again… still nothing. No responses yet. Granted, this was around the time people were packing up for the work day and driving home. Picking up kids. Getting dinner on the table. That sort of thing.
Okay, deep breaths. Facebook. Matt mentioned Facebook.
I opened the Facebook app and logged in. I made a point not to be on social media during the work day. As town manager, that’s the sort of thing I could get busted for—wasting tax payer time and money while on the clock.
It only took me thirty seconds of scrolling in my feed to see what Matteo had been talking about. Thirty seconds. And there was my face. My disapproving face. My scowling face. Set back behind Neil as he grinned, flexed and balanced half a dozen cupcakes on that stupid bicep of his.
He became the Hercules of the internet. The comments adored him. Everyone thought he was handsome, sexy, and charming. You name a positive adjective? It
was there in the comments about Neil. I, on the other hand, became a target for every woman on Facebook.
What the eff is her problem? One comment said.
Must be a lesbian. Another responded.
Jealous basic betch.
“Oh, my God.” Tears filled my eyes. The comments went on and on. There was even a caption war in the viral thread. People had added word balloons over my head. Everything from:
Glad I got my enema yesterday, to
I need his frosting piped inside me stat!
I swallowed, my nose tingling with imminent tears. These were strangers commenting. People across the world that I had never seen in my life, and probably would never meet, were judging me based on one photo. Commenting on my body. My sexuality. My personality.
And it hurt. God, it hurt.
I swiped at the tear streaming down my cheek.
My eyes settled on Neil in the picture. His silly grin. His insanely large biceps, veined and thick. Muscles are stupid. It’s just scar tissue and lactic acid, people. Jesus.
All that pain and embarrassment sizzled, turning into a fiery anger as I read more comments. What is this bakery? Where is it? Can I order from them? Let’s take a road trip to NH, y’all!
He was actually benefiting from this. His stupid protein cupcakes and bakery were benefiting from my misfortune.
Oh, my God. Did he post this as a marketing tactic? I swallowed down my despair, and looking up at the lights, blinked back my remaining tears as anger replaced my sadness.
Neil and I were going to settle this history between us once and for all.
I was done. So done.
Mom looked good tonight. Really good. Better than she had in weeks. Even though her hair was gone. She wrapped her head in a lavender floral scarf and wore white linen pants and a yellow top. Her makeup was done, and there was a little more color in her cheeks than when I had seen her a few days ago.
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