Vick Burgess was smiling when Cam walked into the City Council meeting Monday evening. His teeth flashed white in his too-tan-for-winter face, making Cam think of politicians and used car salesmen. Anything that made Vick smile was likely to be bad. He was speaking to another man dressed in a too-expensive suit that screamed city slicker. What was an outsider doing in their City Council meeting?
Across the room, Sandra caught Cam’s eye. She fixed him with a Be nice Look that just solidified the dread curling through his gut. But Cam held his tongue and took his place at the conference table next to Edgar Falk.
Vick clasped his hands. “Since everybody’s here, perhaps we can get started? Avery, are you ready?”
Avery Cahill, Sandra’s personal assistant and the official City Recorder, took her position at his mother’s right hand, fingers poised over a tidy little laptop. “I am.”
“Okay then, let’s get this show on the road.” Sandra rapped her gavel. “As Mayor, I now call this closed meeting of the City Council to order.”
Ed lifted a hand, spotted with age, and waited for acknowledgment. “Motion to approve the minutes from the December 12th meeting.”
Cam seconded.
“All in favor of approving the minutes from our previous meeting?” Everyone present lifted a hand. “Minutes approved.”
Grace Handeford spoke next. “Motion to approve the docket of claims for tonight’s meeting.”
“What’s on it?” asked Hank van Buren. “I didn’t get a copy of the memo.”
“It’s probably in your spam folder. I keep telling you to check it,” Grace chided. “Just the charge for replacing the street lights with more cost efficient halogen bulbs.”
“Is that a sweeping change or something to be implemented as the bulbs go out?” Connie Lockwood’s French manicured nails tapped against her pen as she scribbled notes.
Grace slipped her reading glasses on and peered at the memo. “This is for the supply of bulbs. It doesn’t address when the change would be made.”
They debated the merits of both options before finally approving the claim.
“Are there any amendments to the agenda?” Sandra asked.
Cam thought about Mrs. Crockett and the stoplight, but he was too worried about the newcomer to bring it up. When no changes were raised, she turned her attention to Vick. “Very well. I shall turn the floor over to City Planner Victor Burgess.”
Vick beamed. Cam thought about how much he wanted to plant a fist in the other man’s face.
“Thank you, madam Mayor. I’d like to take this opportunity to introduce Bill Sutto.” The suit lifted a hand and offered an ingratiating smile. “Bill is a representative from GrandGoods.”
Connie sat up straighter. “The bulk buyer’s club?”
Vick’s car salesman grinned widened. “The very same.”
“I love that place. I go every time I head down to Jackson to visit my sister.”
“Well, you may not have to drive that far in the future. They’re looking to expand their market share in Mississippi, and Wishful is a potential site.”
Hello red flag number one. Cam crossed his arms. “What sense does that make? We don’t have the population base to support a store of that size. They only build in cities or big interstate hubs. We’re neither.”
Sutto answered that charge. “You raise a good point. And it’s true that up to this point, we have focused on sites that meet those criteria. But Wishful is centralized. So much of Mississippi’s population is considered rural by population standards. Right now, we have a GrandGoods down on the coast in Biloxi, one in Jackson, and one in Southaven. That leaves the north central portion of the state unserved. Wishful occupies a central location that could draw citizens from Oxford, the Golden Triangle area, and all the rural counties between. That’s a few hundred thousand people right there, within an hour and a half radius, with no shopping alternative that would provide the same benefits.”
“Why would you choose to build here rather than in, say, Tupelo?” Grace asked. “That would hit almost all the same areas.”
“That’s a great question, Grace.” Sutto beamed as if she were a prize pupil. “Tupelo already has a Sam’s Club. GrandGoods is more interested in expanding into an area with no existing competition. We want to pilot test a store on a slightly smaller scale in a rural location. And we want Wishful.”
“Just imagine what that kind of business would draw to town,” Grace said.
A sense of deep unease unfurled inside Cam at the thought. GrandGoods would bring customers, sure, but it would also bring urban bloat. More chains, more franchises, more depersonalization.
Vick picked up the thread again. “Not only work for the labor hired to build the store and the jobs created for the people to work in it. But it would pull in people from all over to shop here. That would provide a really nice chunk of additional revenue that we could use.”
At what cost? Cam exchanged a Look with his mother. Very little was as cut and dry as they were making it out to be. “I have serious reservations about how a business like that would impact the community. Yeah, it’d mean short term jobs for those involved with construction, provided GrandGoods did actually hire local labor. And probably longer term jobs for those needed to run the store. But what impact will it have on competing local businesses? What percentage of the people who come in from surrounding areas will actually stop in at other businesses here? And what about the increased burden on the infrastructure? All that extra traffic that isn’t part of our tax base and isn’t going to be paying for upkeep of roads.”
All solicitousness, Sutto nodded. “Those are completely valid concerns. First off, let me assure you that GrandGoods fully intends to recruit local labor for construction of the store, should our proposal be accepted. As to the impact on competing local businesses, we don’t foresee that being an issue. GrandGoods is a particular type of store and shouldn’t infringe on the smaller, niche businesses already established. We have no intention of damaging the character of your town but, rather, believe that we can enhance it.”
Cam doubted that.
“I’ve got a presentation of our full proposal prepared that will, I hope, answer more of your questions. If you’d direct your attention up here, please.”
Somebody dimmed the lights for Sutto’s PowerPoint presentation. Cam sat through it, listening to the spin and the promises and the buzzwords with half an ear as he observed the reactions of the other Councilmen. By the end, they were all nodding, smiling, some of them actually excited. Not a damned one of them seemed concerned that a formal proposal presented to the city was only subject to the rules already contained in the zoning code. As far as Cam knew, that meant just a weak site plan review stood between Wishful and this store should the proposal be accepted.
Sandra steepled her fingers. “You make compelling arguments.”
Beneath the table, Cam’s hands fisted. Sutto had neatly skirted the issue of strain on infrastructure and overplayed the limited benefit Wishful would receive from sales tax. Had anyone noticed but him?
“Certainly, I think he’s made enough valid points that we should enter into more formal discussion of the proposal,” Ed agreed.
“Of course, we want to allow you ample time to make an informed, educated decision, as well as an opportunity to discuss any issues you may have with our proposal.”
Vick began gathering up his papers. “I’ll get all of you a copy of the full proposal tomorrow morning.”
Cam swallowed down his rage. “I can promise you, we’ll have plenty of questions.”
A date was set for the next City Council meeting, which Bill Sutto would return for. That gave Cam fourteen days to figure out how the hell he was going to derail this.
“There’s one thing you haven’t mentioned yet. Where exactly do you propose building this store?”
“Oh we’re already in negotiations for a parcel of land on the outskirts of town.”
Cam tensed, already knowing the answer before Vick clarified, “Abe Costello’s land out near Hope Springs. It’s fitting, don’t you think, that the business that can bring hope back to this town be situated right there.”
It was a minor miracle Cam managed to stay in his seat. “I’d hope that you would consider other sites with less historical significance.”
Vick waved that away as if it meant nothing. “The site isn’t the most important. We’ll find a place for it. The point is that even you can’t stop all progress, Crawford. We have ambitions for our town.”
Ambition was exactly what Cam was afraid of. In his experience, ambition destroyed everything it touched, and he wasn’t about to stand by and allow it to change the heart of his town.
~*~
“Over my dead body.” The all but shouted pronouncement was punctuated by Cam slamming the front door.
The entire Campbell clan went silent, waiting to find out what was going on. He stalked into the room, hands balled to fists, face set. Norah could see the worry beneath the simmering temper and struggled not to cross over to try and soothe.
“Campbell Alexander Crawford, you go right back out that door and prove you know how to enter it in a civilized manner,” Grammy snapped.
A muscle ticked in his jaw, but Cam did an about face and followed his grandmother’s order.
Aunt Liz rose. “What on earth?”
“I take it the City Council meeting didn’t go well?” Miranda asked dryly.
“That depends on who you ask.” Sandra sank into a chair.
The front door opened and shut again, softer this time. Cam prowled back into the living room. “I apologize, Grammy.”
His grandmother sniffed. “Do you want cobbler before or after you tell us what you’re tantruming about?”
“Respectfully, I don’t want any cobbler.”
“Oh, man,” Mitch said, “it must be bad.”
“I’m evidently the only one to think so,” Cam growled.
“Maybe you should start at the beginning,” Reed suggested.
“At tonight’s City Council meeting, we received a formal proposal from GrandGoods.”
Norah’s hand fisted on the arm of the sofa. “The megastore?”
He nodded. “They want to use Wishful as a pilot site for a new, smaller store designed to expand their market share into more rural locales. I have a number of problems with it, not the least of which is that they’ve already made an offer on the property where they want to build—the acreage owned by Abe Costello that wraps around two sides of Hope Springs. They want to put a goddamned parking lot almost to the edge of the springs.”
Norah expected Grammy to call him out on his language, but she said nothing.
“We can block that,” his mother said. “If not the direct purchase of the property, then the zoning restrictions on what and how they could build on it.”
“We need to do a hell of a lot more than that to update the zoning code. Have you even looked at the minimal site review process out there? I have. And we don’t have time to change that before the Council meets again in two weeks to talk about this. You saw everybody in that room. I was the only one thinking in terms other than ‘Ooo, shopping.’”
“Campbell.” Sandra’s tone was a warning.
“I don’t want our history paved over by some soulless corporate giant.”
“We don’t know that it would be that bad. Their presentation—”
Cam interrupted. “The guy gave an impressive presentation. Slick. Too slick.”
“What exactly was their pitch?” Uncle Pete asked.
“They don’t want to damage the identity of the town,” Sandra began.
“Of course, they’ll lead with that.” Norah’s chest went tight. Unable to keep still, she shoved to her feet, tucking her hands beneath her arms. “They want to get your guard down. I bet they said that they’re on the side of the people. That their philosophy is to embrace the identity of the community and that the store and the town will be equal partners. They’ll offer choice and convenience to the masses. Jobs and an influx of capital to the local economy. They probably rounded things out with a nice speech about how there’s value in the future and that progress lives on. How’m I doing?”
Cam stared at her with disbelief. “What? Were you hiding under the table in the Council chambers? How do you know all that?”
Norah closed her eyes and felt the blood drain out of her cheeks. “Because it’s what I said. On behalf of one of their biggest competitors, in another small town, just like this one.” She began to pace the room, her steps short and jerky. There wasn’t enough space for what she was feeling amid all these people. “I told them all of that and more. I convinced them everything would be great. That Hugo’s would be an asset and partner to the community. And within three years, seventy percent of the businesses downtown had been wiped out and the town was so swollen from urban sprawl, it was barely recognizable.” She looked at Miranda. “Have Your Cake was gone.”
“Morton.”
“I didn’t know.” Not that saying so made it any better. “Not until my drive back from New York. I tried to stop in and downtown was a ghost town. So I asked one of the locals what happened. Hugo’s came in and violated pretty much every selling point I’d used to get them into the community. As soon as I saw what happened, I went straight to the office and dug into the old files. And it was all there. Helios was working as an extension of Hugo’s marketing and sales team, as a third party. My partner did the due diligence—that was his job as Market Research Director—and he didn’t bother to share the facts and the bad publicity the company had gotten elsewhere because he didn’t want my inconvenient moral compass to get in the way of closing the deal. I wasn’t on the development team. They just brought me in at the end to do the pitch to Morton for Hugo’s because closing the deal is my specialty, and I have a gift for bringing creative campaigns to life. I was just the face, the voice, the charm. What did I need with the truth? Apparently that’s been standard operating procedure the last few years—or so he said when I confronted him about it. And our boss knew and encouraged it, because I was just an asset to be used, and they figured that was the best way to handle me. I have absolutely no idea how many other lives I’ve managed to ruin in the name of profit. I didn’t get a chance to find out before they fired me.”
“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.”