Vicki Essex - Matinees With Miriam

Mira smiled sadly. Grandpa had had a crush on the florist and had often wistfully joked about marrying Janice so Mira could have a grandmother. And he’d been a hell of a flirt. When Mira had gotten a little older, she’d wondered if the two had ever had some kind of relationship. But as far as she could tell, they’d only ever been friends.

They placed the new orchid in the small plastic greenhouse with her other tropical plants and chatted about the various health issues some of her specimens were having. Mira had worked this garden alongside her grandpa since her early teens. Jack Bateman had loved growing things. When they’d lived together, his bungalow hadn’t had much in the way of a front or backyard, which was why the rooftop garden had been his pride. Keeping it alive was just as important to Mira as keeping the Crown in her possession.

After half an hour of puttering, Janice and Mira climbed back down the ladder and headed into the theater. “Be honest, Janice. Was it Shane Patel who bought me that orchid?” Unwanted warmth wormed through her with the mere mention of his name.

“I really couldn’t say.” The older woman’s shrug and secretive smile suggested otherwise.

Mira rolled her eyes as she relocked the balcony door. “Well, at least he didn’t bring it himself. He’s been bugging me all week. I don’t have time for him. I have a lot of work to do.”

“Oh?”

“Life of a freelance writer,” she said, with no resentment. She enjoyed her work—it was just a lot of juggling projects.

“I didn’t mean ‘Oh’ about your work. I meant ‘Oh’ as in, I didn’t realize Mr. Patel was courting you.”

Mira’s cheeks burned. “He’s not courting,” she corrected prudishly. “He’s looking for a way to buy the Crown from me. Honestly, I’ve no idea why he won’t take a hint. I’ve been pretty clear.”

Janice scratched her nose. “Maybe you should talk to him, see what his plans are.”

Mira shook her head. Handsome, charming men like Shane could not be trusted. He wanted her property. That was it. She couldn’t trust a single compliment, kind word or platitude from him.

“If there’s nothing he can say to convince you,” Janice went on reasonably, “then it wouldn’t hurt to listen, would it?”

“I have more important things to do than sit through a sales pitch.”

“Well, if you won’t talk to him directly, come to the open house he’s having down at B. H. Everett. I heard from Cheyenne he’s giving a presentation about his project and what it’ll mean for the town.”

That gave Mira pause. Mayor Cheyenne Welks had pushed important infrastructure projects through and secured funding to do the much-needed upgrades to the water mains and sewer lines. She’d been a real boon for the town, a progressive liberal thinker who’d swayed some of the conservative cronies on town council to invest in the future.

That Shane Patel had the new mayor’s ear was significant. Cheyenne’s agenda had been one of growth and change, and her vision had done much to improve life in Everville. If she thought the Sagmar project was a good thing, Mira would have a battle on her hands.

What would Grandpa do? He’d always said keeping Everville alive was all about growing and changing.

But not the Crown, Mira insisted. Some things had to stay the same—everyone needed an anchor in a storm. The theater had once been the cultural heart of the town, and it would be again—as soon as she could figure out how to reopen.

Maybe the first step was to make her intentions public.

* * *

SHANE WENT THROUGH his mental checklist as he scanned the pamphlets, Sagmar-branded swag and hors d’oeuvres being laid out. This informal presentation of the condo project was meant to keep things transparent with the locals. He’d dealt with NIMBYs before, and had convinced the company that spending the time and resources to assuage their fears was paramount to their success. A small investment early could save them huge headaches later.

And so, it was with a big smile and a huge spread of locally purchased treats from the various small businesses in town that Shane opened the doors to the B. H. Everett High School’s gymnasium. All week, he’d put up flyers around Everville inviting folks to find out more about the new downtown development.

He’d hoped for a good-sized turnout. He hadn’t imagined the place would be packed by eight o’clock.

“If you feed them, they will come,” Arty Bolton said with a chuckle. The grocer had provided numerous catered trays of deli meats, similar to the one Shane had ordered for Miriam last week. She’d accepted it grimly, so he considered that progress.

“I’m glad for all the interest,” Shane said, though he kept an eye on the wrinkled brows and scowls circulating around the professionally done display boards. A couple of strong, dissenting voices could turn a crowd against the project. “Do you know if Ms. Bateman is coming?”

“Mira? I doubt it. She doesn’t get out much. Always working, that one.” Arty cleared his throat. “Course, this does all concern her, so it’d make sense if she did show up. Then again, if she’s not selling to you, then none of this matters, does it?”

“I hope to change her mind,” Shane said confidently.

“Been talkin’ to some folks,” Arty ventured, scratching his nose. “Seems your people have been working on this deal awhile.”

“It began almost four years ago, just as I was joining the firm,” Shane confirmed, wanting to ensure Arty understood Sagmar had nothing to hide. “But I didn’t take over this project until about two years ago when Mayor Welks was elected. Soon as I heard they were considering Everville for the location, I fought to have it placed here and took the project on.”

“Means something to you, then?”

“A lot. I loved this town when I was a kid. We only came for the summer, but I looked forward to it every year. I want to see it thrive. I’m willing to put money on it, too,” he admitted. “I have my eye on one of these units so my parents have a place they can escape to during the summers. Maybe I’ll retire here myself one day.”

“You’ll have to build it first.” Arty studied him. “You wouldn’t consider moving it to another location in town?”

Shane glanced away, keeping his cards close to his vest. He didn’t want to reveal too much. Sagmar already owned the properties on either side of the Crown; Miriam’s theater was the lone holdout. While the project could technically be moved to another location, it would mean months if not years before he could proceed, and even then, there was no guarantee the same situation wouldn’t arise with any other property. No, this development would be built where the Crown stood. He just had to make Miriam Bateman see its benefits. “If there were better venues, we would’ve taken the project there.”

He excused himself as people waved him down. He spent the next hour or so fielding concerns from the locals—most of them perfectly sensible questions about the environmental impact, the property values, how the new build would affect traffic and so forth. He could see, though, that despite his answers, people weren’t altogether convinced.

“I just don’t think this project is suited for Everville,” one man said boldly. “It doesn’t fit with the rest of the town.”

Shane turned toward the bombastic voice. “I assure you, Mister...?”

“Bob Fordingham, former mayor.” The beefy, balding man with a ruddy complexion and prominent paunch put out a meaty hand. Shane shook it, clenching his teeth as the man squeezed unnecessarily hard.

“Mr. Fordingham, yes, of course, my Sagmar colleagues mentioned your involvement in the initial stages of planning.” He kept his tone light, reminding himself that the current mayor, Cheyenne Welks, had trounced the man in the last election. “I thought you supported this project wholeheartedly.”