Vicki Essex - Matinees With Miriam

“I understand.” Plenty of council members had businesses in town—he’d have to be careful about who to patronize. He didn’t want to be seen as favoring a few shops or services over others.

“Good. Nothing’s more important to me than the relationship between people and community, and I believe in good, democratic governance. The foundation for that is trust, transparency and truthfulness. That is something I will not jeopardize.”

“I hear you loud and clear.”

They parted ways soon after that. Shane headed back for the B and B, chewing over the mayor’s words.

She was a woman of strict morals—honest, dutiful and clearly intelligent. It was no less than he’d expected, considering the thoughtful, articulate emails and phone calls they’d exchanged. There’d be no bribing her or the other council members. Not that Shane would resort to that—not ostentatiously, at any rate. Miriam Bateman was a different story, though.

A month. He hadn’t thought he’d have to wait quite that long, though he supposed he could head back to New York in that time and return for the zoning board meeting.

Then again, he hadn’t yet secured the Crown, and from what he could tell, he would have to work hard to pry it from Miriam Bateman’s claws.

There were worse things than hanging out in Everville during the summer. Reacquainting himself with the town that had been like a second home to him wouldn’t be a trial.

* * *

MIRA FINISHED HER last blog post for the day and hit Publish. It’d been a grueling week with her deadlines. While she appreciated how much her editors liked her work, writing ten or more pieces daily was exhausting. The money was too good to turn away, though, and she needed every penny to pay the property taxes.

She frowned at the time—almost eight. She’d thought she’d be able to water her garden, but she preferred not to climb up to the roof in the dark. She thought again about the never-ending list of repairs and improvements and where “install rooftop patio lights” fell. Too far down, unfortunately. Working locks, busted plumbing and wonky electrical were top priority. While she could do a lot herself—the internet was great at teaching her all the DIY she needed to maintain the theater—she wasn’t stupid enough to think she could take on a job that required a certified professional.

“Don’t worry, Grandpa, I’ll get it all done, starting with the wiring,” she promised to the empty room as she got up to heat a can of soup in the little pot on the hot plate. “Or do you think the leaking urinals in the men’s room are more important?”

A hollow whistle broke the silence as changing air pressure creaked through the cavernous building. The wind outside was picking up—she knew the sound of every groan and thump like the beat of her own heart. She sighed. “I know, I don’t need to use them, but I’m worried about the pipes cracking in the walls, leaking all over the place. You know what water damage does.” Water was the most patient and most destructive of the threats to the Crown.

Well, except maybe for Shane Patel.

The man was insufferable. She hadn’t seen him since that presentation at the school gymnasium. Filing that formal complaint to the mayor must have finally put him off. Thank God. She wasn’t sure she could deal with his big, stupid smile, as if he was friends with everyone in Everville...

If the movies had taught her anything, it was to never trust handsome charmers.

She screwed up her face. “He’s not handsome, he’s just...new and different.”

The theater’s old ventilation shafts shuddered softly, as if with laughter, and she glared up at them. Tightening the bolts on the shaft brackets moved up the to-do list. Shane Patel was nothing more than a novelty, and an unwelcome one at that. He was like Harold Hill in The Music Man, a huckster after every red cent he could get, or in Mr. Patel’s case, her building. He would get what he wanted and be out of there as soon as the deal was done.

Well, that deal was never going to be done. She’d make sure of it.

Her perimeter alarm chimed. She checked her phone, wary about who was on her property at this time of night. She grabbed her paintball gun as the shadow moved across the security camera’s view, but then paused. She recognized that broad-shouldered silhouette and wide-stepped saunter. The figure banged on the front door.

With a disgusted grunt, she put the gun down, hastened toward the entrance and opened it. “What do you want?”

Shane’s eyes twinkled. Was he laughing at her? “Sorry for coming by so late. I wanted to talk to you before I left town.”

She blinked. “You’re...leaving Everville?” She didn’t know why her stomach dipped, or why disappointment pricked her so keenly.

“Just for the weekend. I’m heading back to New York for a family gathering, but I should return Monday. Tuesday at the latest.”

“Oh.” It came out stupidly. She wished she had some witty, cutting remark.

“I spoke with the mayor the other day. I understand you’ve filed a formal complaint against the development of the condo.”

She straightened, unsure why she felt a surge of guilt. “I have. And I won’t be the only one.”

“I didn’t think you would be. I’ve encountered plenty of resistance to other Sagmar projects, but we’ve always managed to address community concerns.” He held out a thick file. “I wanted to give you this. It’s a portfolio containing the specifics of the Sagmar condo we’re proposing for the site—almost identical to the one I filed with city planning.”

She glanced between him and the file warily. “I don’t need that. I already got all your emails. This won’t change anything.”

“Maybe not, but you might find the information helpful for your deputation.”

“Deputation?”

“At the next town meeting. You submitted a formal complaint, so you’ll get to give a five-minute presentation to the council about why you don’t want a condo here.”

She stared at him, feeling as though a trap were closing around her. She didn’t need to speak publicly about why she didn’t want the condo there. The Crown was her home. Not that anyone openly acknowledged it. Then again, Shane Patel probably didn’t know she lived there.

“But...why would you give me this?” She nodded at the folder. In her experience, opponents didn’t try to help each other.

Shane gave a light chuckle. The sound brushed against her senses with a featherlight caress, and her skin prickled. She liked that sound too much. “I don’t want to hide anything from you. I’m giving you this information so you can do your research properly. No one at Sagmar will hold any nonprivate information back from you, either. The company firmly believes in working with the community so that we can make sure we have the best fit, the best use of space, the best mix of business and residence. We don’t just drop concrete boxes into towns so people can spend years complaining about how they look or how terrible they are. We build homes.” He held the file out to her. “I want to work with you, Miriam.”

Awareness shimmied through her. He sounded sincere, but she didn’t always trust the way things sounded. She couldn’t let him past her defenses. Not for a second.

“I’m sorry—” his nose lifted as he looked past her “—but is something burning?”

CHAPTER FIVE

AT FIRST MIRA thought he was pulling some kind of ruse. Then she smelled it, too.

“My soup!” She bolted inside, tripping across the worn carpets through the semi-darkness to the rear office. Thick steam and gray fumes billowed from the tiny pot on the hot plate and filled the room in two distinct layers like a miasma parfait. She reached for the pot, but snatched her hand back from the handle. The soup had boiled dry and the pot itself was red-hot. Bits of what had once been chicken and vegetables popped and flared briefly into tiny flames before becoming greasy black smoke.