“You came to say goodbye?” I asked, tilting my head. “You barely said hello to me unless the cameras were rolling.”
“We were told not to,” she said. “Elliott said to reserve all conversations for when they were filming.”
Ah, yes. Gretchen the rule follower… when the cameras were rolling. She was basically attending a buffet, selecting only what she wanted to abide by and leaving everything that she didn’t there under the hot lamps to wilt and spoil.
It made me appreciate Elaina even more. How she couldn’t care less about fame or television. She was literally just in this for the money—and to put all of that money into something entirely selfless. I felt a smile curve my mouth as I thought about her, and I dropped my gaze to my feet.
“There’s that smile.” Gretchen stepped into me and put her palms on my torso. “I missed that,” she whispered, and before I realized what was happening, she had her lips pressed to mine.
It only lasted a second before I pushed her off of me. “What the fuck?” I said. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, come on,” she laughed. “You can’t tell me you don’t want this, too? I have an hour before I need to leave for Boston.” Her eyes flicked over my shoulder into my cabin. “I know how to kill an hour, don’t you?”
I glared at her and turned around to slam my front door closed behind me and lock it. “I know a million ways to kill an hour, and none of them involve you.”
She smiled in an eerie way that left my skin crawling like I had just stepped onto an ant colony. “You seriously are choosing her over me?” With just one finger, she gestured up and down her body as if there was any contest between her and Elaina.
“To be fair… I would choose gonorrhea over you. But with Elaina? There’s no contest,” I whispered. “Elaina is kind and compassionate and driven and smart… and a million other things that you’re not.”
Gretchen nibbled her bottom lip and stepped closer to me, dragging her nails down my abs. Hard. Hard enough to leave a mark. I hissed, but I was already backed up against my door with nowhere else to go. “A smart girl, huh? How long until she realizes you’ll need a dictionary just to keep up with her in conversation?”
It was the right hook that she knew would land right at my Achilles heel. But I couldn’t let Gretchen get in my head. Not like she used to. Dating her was like having Stockholm syndrome. She was emotionally abusive. Used me. Cheated on me. And I just kept coming back for more.
“That’s the thing about Elaina Dyker. Unlike you, she’s just as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside.” I slid around her, finally getting beyond her barricade, but paused momentarily, turning back to whisper in her ear. “Kiss me again, and I’ll call US Weekly and tell them you frequent the Fat Burger on Melrose.”
She gasped, pulling back and gaping at me. “You wouldn’t.”
My brows inched higher. “Try me.”
Her moment of horror lifted, and back in place was her practiced smile. The veneer of calm and grace, but beneath, she was a sandstorm. Destructive and volatile. “Fine. Goodbye, Neil. Good luck with your smarty-pants.”
“Goodbye, Gretchen.” I turned, walking to my car. “And good riddance.”
I glanced at my father, standing at the front of the room, chatting with the city council members while we waited for the meeting to begin. I swallowed the knot in my throat.
Last night after the show aired, I snuck back into my house through my bedroom window, like I used to as a teenager, to avoid having to face my parents.
Because I couldn’t look either of them in the eyes knowing that they had seen me strip down to my underwear and jump in the lake with Neil. Luckily, the footage hadn’t clearly shown exactly what we were doing in that water… but from the kissing and splashing, I’m sure most people could guess.
My father backed away from the table of food we had set up, danish in hand, finally seeing me across the room. I gave an awkward wave as he crossed toward me. People were milling about, and the crowd was growing.
He pulled me aside into a quiet corner of the room, and I hesitated before finally looking him in the eye. I had expected to see his stern expression… the one I was so used to in high school any time I got caught after being out after curfew… or like that time Chloe and I got busted because we drank all the vodka in the freezer. Apparently in our buzzed state, we forgot that refilling it with water wouldn’t work because water froze, and vodka didn’t. Yep, my Harvard-bound ass totally forgot that little chemistry tidbit when it mattered the most as a seventeen-year old. But today… all I saw in Dad’s eyes was concern.
“Lovebug,” he said quietly. “Are you okay?”
I was embarrassed, yes. I could swear it wasn’t all in my head that people were murmuring about me as I walked by them. But I didn’t want to cause my dad any concern—I had gotten myself into this mess. And despite my momentary lack of judgment, I was okay. Or at least, I was well enough to continue the day and do my job.
I rolled my shoulders back and stood taller, nodding. “I’m fine. Totally fine.”
His gaze narrowed. “You know… I’ve learned from years of being happily married, that any time a person says the word ‘fine’ twice… they are rarely fine.”
A smile softened the stern line of my mouth and I sighed. “I’m … as fine as can be expected?” While also being humiliated.
Dad nodded, and this answer seemed to better appease him. “Are you getting a lot of calls about it?” I asked him, dropping my gaze to the floor.
Dad shrugged. “A lot is subjective. I get a lot of calls when I’m seen carrying a Dunkin’ Donuts coffee rather than a local Maple Grove coffee shop cup.”
I snorted and stifled my laugh. It was true, people in this town had very strong opinions about where councilmembers should shop. “But you are getting some calls?”
“A few,” he answered, cryptic as ever.
“Just… be honest with me, Dad. Am I going to be fired over this?”
“No,” he answered quickly. “Interestingly, some of the calls were from people who seemed happy to see that you had a ‘life outside of this job’... their words, not mine.”
I groaned. “Why do people want to know anything about the private aspects of our lives? It’s so stupid,” I whispered.
“That’s politics.” Dad shrugged, seemingly unfazed by the intrusion. “But if you ask me… you’re an adult. It was nice seeing you get out and have a little fun. I mean, don’t get me wrong… I prefer not to see that much of it, personally, so maybe keep that kind of fun in private in the future. But I do hate seeing you trapped in your office eating dinner at your computer until nine o’clock. Maybe Neil’s good for you. He can show you how to cut loose a little.” He pointed at me. “Just not too much,” he added with a grin.
It was the most dad-like thing he could have said and that made me chuckle, lifting my sour mood, if only a little. “Thanks, Dad,” I whispered.
“Anytime, Lovebug.” His gaze wandered over my shoulder to where the podium and microphone awaited me. “I think they’re ready for you. Knock ‘em dead.”
Twenty minutes later, the presentation was close to wrapping up.
Neil had been a little late, but I chose to ignore his tardiness and just appreciate the fact that he’d chosen to show up at all. Sure, I knew he was there to support his mother as she gave her testimonial to help make our case for the project, but I liked to think he was there for me as well.
After I presented the budget plans and renovation ideas with Matteo, Neil’s mom read her testimony, as did Rita and Carlie, and Matteo spoke briefly about his dad’s experience.
Once everyone had finished, I crossed the stage back to the microphone, tilting it toward my mouth. My eyes latched onto Neil’s for a moment, and he gave me the smallest smile and an encouraging head nod.
I cleared my throat, feeling the emotion from the various testimonies clogging my chest. “I wrote in my notes to next discuss the design plans for the outr
each clinic, but honestly… who here cares about the boring nitty gritty of the design after hearing those touching stories?” I grinned as the room chuckled. “That’s what I thought,” I continued. “Basically, all you really need to know is that the renovation will include both the clinic as well as an events center for the Lakes Region cities. What does that mean? It means craft shows that people in the town can participate in. Conferences that bring groups and tourism to our city that extends beyond families vacationing in the summer. It means weekly farmers markets that can continue into the winter. The mill renovation could do a lot for our city. But none of that matters as much as what it will provide for the Linda Evanses of this town. Or the Ritas and Carlies of Maple Grove. Or even… maybe someday… you.” This time when I looked up, I caught Linda’s eyes and, as she blinked, a tear fell down her cheek. She quickly sniffled and swiped it away, and I watched as Neil linked his hand in hers, giving it a squeeze.
“Don’t get me wrong… Maple Grove General Hospital is a wonderful facility with talented doctors and nurses on staff. But our little town is growing. In fact, based on the previous census, our population dictates we are now considered a city. Combine our rising population with that of the other Lakes Region towns and it’s clear that Maple Grove General needs support to better serve our community. That’s what this healthcare outreach center will provide. It’s not taking the place of our beloved hospital… it’s here to support it. Cancer isn’t discerning. It won’t pass you by because you live in the wealthiest mansion in town just like it won’t skip over you if you live in government subsidized housing. The fact is, there may come a time for any of us when surprise medical care is needed. The question is, will you need to drive ninety minutes to Boston for it? Or will it be right outside your door here in town?”
I gazed around the silent room and took a step back from the microphone as I realized all eyes were still on me. Neil was the first person on his feet, clapping. Linda, Rita, and Carlie followed. And the next thing I knew, almost the entire room was standing, applauding my presentation.
Councilwoman Jenkins struck her gavel. “I say we vote on this at our council meeting tomorrow. Seconded?”
I met Matteo’s eyes, and he lifted his hand in the air, along with three other council members. “Seconded,” they all said in unison.
I breathed a sigh of relief, my eyes fluttering closed.
Councilwoman Jenkins stood. “Are there any other questions for Ms. Dyker or any of the council members?”
A man toward the back stood, pointing a finger into the air. “I have a question,” he said, straightening a tie that looked rather expensive. “Does the city currently have five hundred thousand dollars for the mill purchase?”
I swallowed and glanced down at the notes from our treasurer. The truth was, we didn’t. Oh sure, our town had plenty of money in its account… in excess of five hundred thousand. But most of that went toward paying the salaries of government workers. It went to health insurance and maintaining roads, public parks and land. Yes, we had a lot in our reserve, but it was reserved for a reason.
I gave the man as calm of a look as I could manage, staring him right in the eye. “The town’s bank account is always available for public access on our website. And you’ll see that there is plenty of capital in there.” I pointed to someone else who had their hand raised. “Next question?”
“But,” he continued, not letting the matter drop as I’d hoped. Maybe it had been silly to think it would be that easy. “It’s not public knowledge how much of that account is already allocated and accounted for.” His head tilted, and he was just a little too calm with his questions. A little too poised. It was unnerving.
“I didn’t hear a question in there,” I said.
His smile twitched. “Within the bank account that is open to the public to view, is there enough money to put in an offer and purchase that land today?”
I took a deep breath, my gaze flicking to the owner of the mill whom I had met and chatted with last week already. This was the job… for better or for worse. Answering the hard questions. I hated politicians who deflected, and I refused to be one of those people. “There’s not,” I answered honestly.
The man’s brows shot up expectantly, and something told me he’d already known the answer to that question. “I’m surprised by your candid answer, Ms. Dyker.”
“I’m not sure why you’re surprised. I’ve been nothing if not honest with our town. Now—”
“So, if you don’t have the capital now, why should Mr. Levy wait to sell the mill to you when someone else is ready to offer over the asking price right now?”
I shrugged. “Mr. Levy is within his rights to sell immediately to someone else should he choose to do so, but I implore him not to…” I sent a brief smile in his direction, “…for the reasons we’ve outlined here today. The town exploring options to get approved for a loan.” I wasn’t about to admit publicly that we had looked into loans before and we barely were approved for half of the mill’s price.
“So, on top of needing grant money and loans to make this renovation happen, you would also need to borrow money for the building purchase.”
Again, not a question. “That is correct. Just like most people who purchase a home in this country, we would get a loan. Or maybe there will be some wealthy benefactor who will come forward with a donation.”
His mouth twitched. “Unlikely. Since I’m one of the few wealthy benefactors in this area, and I would like to purchase the land myself for a shopping center.” He stepped into the aisle from where he was sitting. “My name is Hardin Montgomery, and I have a proposal for the mill as well.” Montgomery… why was that name familiar? Other than the fact that I’d seen it on the shopping center proposal, there was still something about this guy. “Let’s pretend for a moment that the vote doesn’t go through,” he continued. “Or the city can’t come through with the money for a purchase… is Mr. Levy out of luck for his property? What if it takes you a year or more to raise that money?”
Mr. Levy stood up. “Is that a possibility?” he said, concern etched in the lines of his face.
“It is very unlikely,” I stated. “The land purchase can take sixty to ninety days.” I didn’t add that that was when there was enough capital to qualify for a loan, which there probably wasn’t. I also didn’t add that, if I won this reality show, I planned to be that wealthy benefactor, and my whole plan relied upon me, Neil, and a stupid muscle-based bakery.
“But it is a possibility?” Mr. Monkey Suit, aka Hardin, said.
I gritted my teeth. “Yes.”
“I would like to propose another vote at the council meeting tomorrow,” he said, stalking down the aisle and handing out his own packets of information to the council members. “On top of voting on the healthcare clinic, I would like you to vote on rezoning the site for commercial use. It would be a second potential option for the mill. A shopping center. Imagine… an adorable shopping center that tourists find just before entering the main downtown area of Maple Grove. Inside, there could be a candy shop—something fancy, Jacques Torres from New York City or perhaps Dylan’s candy store.”
My gaze slipped to Kandi, my friend who owned her own little candy store in the center of town.
Monkey Suit didn’t seem to notice or care where my gaze had gone, though. He plowed on. “We could build on the land adjacent to the mill and make a Target with a Starbucks inside. Something that most tourists need when they’re coming to a rented cabin for a week. They want a place they can grab those little things they forgot while also picking up a carton of milk and formula for the baby. There is no store in Maple Grove that allows for all that shopping to be done in one place. So tomorrow, when you vote, I ask you to also vote on, as a contingency plan if Ms. Dyker’s idea doesn’t come to fruition… preliminary approval for the mill to be rezoned for retail use.”
A few straggling people in the audience clapped, and I realized the entourage wasn’t just here for me. Monkey Su
it had brought his own people in for support.
Councilwoman Jenkins stated, “I agree. It never hurts to have more than one plan in place. And it would be terrible for Mr. Levy to lose out on a sale because we weren’t prepared for a purchase of this size. I say we vote on both tomorrow.”
“Seconded,” another councilwoman chimed in.
My heart slammed in my throat, and I felt sweat pushing out of the pores on my face. I blinked slowly, counting my breath, willing my heart rate to slow down. I looked up, needing to see Neil. Needing his calm smile, his reassuring gaze. But when I glanced up, he was gone.
When Mr. Levy asked me to join him for coffee after today’s meeting went to shit, I didn’t hesitate. My dad gave me a nod and whispered, “Go. I’ll keep the developer busy with questions.”
Ten minutes later, I was seated across from Mr. Levy in a booth at Elsa’s diner, my hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee.
“Please,” I said, trying to keep the begging to a minimum. “Don’t let what Mr. Montgomery said back there scare you. Yes, a land purchase for a town is slightly different than a private sale. But the money will come through.”
Mr. Levy winced. “I like you, Elaina. And I love the idea you had for the mill. But what if the money doesn’t come through? That sale is my retirement fund. My knees aren’t what they used to be, and I can’t continue working the hours I have been. If I can sell that mill for a good enough price, my wife and I can downsize to a nice condo, then unload the few acres of land I own near the highway. That money would mean an early retirement for us.” He sighed and looked at me with sad eyes. “I like you, Elaina. But I can’t afford to wait too long and lose the opportunity Mr. Montgomery is offering if your deal falls through.”
I believed in my plan for the mill. I knew we could make it happen, but he wasn’t wrong to be worried. There was a good chance it would take longer than the average land purchase. I inhaled a slow, deep breath. “I understand, Mr. Levy. How much time are you willing to give me to come up with the capital for the purchase of the mill?”
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