“One year?” I asked. “I should be able to close the deal and break ground in a year.”
“Oh, I know. And do you want to know how I know you’re going to get this done?” He pressed his fingers together, making a pyramid.
“How, sir?”
“Because this is the only project you are going to work on until you close the deal,” Mr. Braithway said.
“Sir,” I started to object. But he held up his hand to silence me.
“You think you can do your job in New York and close this deal?” Mr. Braithway leaned back in his chair and pushed his lips together. “Tell me. What was the problem? Why didn’t you get any of the land owners to start negotiations?”
“I think there is some concern about an outsider coming into the community and telling them what to do, but I could always host some focus groups and…”
Mr Braithway held up his hand again and I stopped talking. “Let me stop you right there. Focus groups and surveys and town hall meetings are all for show. If you want these people to trust you, you will need to spend time in this community. That’s all there is to it.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “Can I ask a question, sir?”
“I would hope so.”
I hesitated. “What makes Creekstone a priority?”
“Priority,” Mr. Braithway repeated as he leaned back in his chair and pressed the tips of his fingers together. He sighed and finally said, “Economic development.”
I nodded, “Absolutely, sir. All boats rise when the tide rises.” I repeated a commonly heard phrase in our industry.
“Yes, except that we want more than floating boats. I know you know this, but our business is more than just buying land and building on it.” Mr. Braithway put his hands in his lap, “I’m on the board of the regional hospital; they’re expanding. You want to know what one of their biggest issues is? Doctors and nurses don’t want to live in the boonies. No matter how much you pay them.”
Mr. Braithway continued. “I’m on the Board of Trustees for two colleges in the region; they want to expand. You know what one of their biggest issues is? College graduates don’t have anywhere to work in the region.”
I nodded, taking in his answer. He said, “I never want our teams to lose focus on the work they do, but the short answer is our work leads to economic development, then to community improvements, then to community resilience. And the world needs more of that. Especially rural communities like Creekstone.” He slouched back in his chair. “So Creekstone isn’t necessarily a priority or some magical diamond in the rough. It’s like every other town in rural America, and if you can make it work in Creekstone...well then, William, I think you can make it work anywhere.”
My head was reeling when I left Mr. Braithway’s office. On the one hand, my hard work was being rewarded. I was being considered to take the top job at our development firm. This was my dream job. But on the other hand, I was being sent on a quest to prove myself. And this quest wasn’t exactly an exciting high-profile project. It was a small scale, local deal. And as far as local developments go, it wasn’t even a very interesting development.
I kept all these opinions and motivations to myself, though. The last thing I needed was for my coworkers, who werealso my fiercest competitors, finding out that I needed to land a deal to become everyone’s boss. They’d sabotage me for sure.
But regardless of my reservations or personal opinions, the ball had been set in motion. Mr. Braithway sent out one of his classically short emails letting the division know I had a special assignment and naming an acting director for my division in my absence. As soon as the email went out, my phone began blowing up with texts and calls asking to chat. I knew that everyone wanted the tea.
I decided to head back to Creekstone immediately. The sooner I could get this deal worked out and settled, the sooner Mr. Braithway would announce my promotion.
When I called the mayor, Nick Martin, and let him know I’d like to spend more time in Creekstone, he was ecstatic. Things had been left uncertain because the landowners were hesitant, and Nick worried that the project was dead. I reassured him that we were still moving forward and just needed to be patient. Nick told me he would help me find a place to stay for a few weeks so I wouldn’t have to commute for meetings. I was determined to get up to Creekstone, close this deal, and get back to New York before the work vultures descended.
When I pulled into the parking lot at Nick’s office, he was waiting near the front steps. He waved at me, with an enthusiasm that bordered on frantic. I sighed. In that moment, I realized how much I needed this skinny, twenty-something kid’s help to close this deal. Nick seemed like a nice kid, but he was a recent college graduate who had upset an old-timer, incumbent mayor by running on a “change is needed platform.” I had seen this play out dozens of times in my line of work. Small communities love the idea of having more but they don’t want to give up small town life to allow it to happen, classic “not in my backyard” attitudes.
It’s part of what has always drawn me to urban development. I like that folks in urban landscapes have already subscribed to the paradigm of city life, and convincing people to build something isn’t the battle. Instead, our work focuses on the hope of improving or reinventing places and helping communities pick the “right” something. Unlike these small-town development projects. Towns like Creekstone are afraid to develop, so just getting started feels like a battle.
As soon as I opened my car door to step out, Nick was right next to me. “Hello! I’m so glad to see you today.” Nick beamed. Before I could respond, Nick was walking around my car to the passenger side door. “Let’s just take your car right to your rental, so you can get settled in.”
“Okay,” I said hesitantly, sliding back into the driver’s seat. I started the car as Nick climbed into the passenger seat.
“Just pull out and take a left at the next light. It’s two blocks away,” Nick said. I listened as Nick chattered about how busy the holidays were in Creekstone, but that he thought this could be a great time to see everyone. “Right here. You can park on the street.”
Nick was pointing at a large white house on the corner of a residential street. I pulled up in front. It had a charming picket fence. The front yard was small but had some tasteful landscaping. The house itself was a rather large colonial style farm house. It had a wraparound porch and gabled dormer windows that made it look quintessentially southern. Nick jumped out as soon as I put the car in park. I got out of the car and followed him through the white picket fence gate, up the walkway.
The house was tastefully decorated for the holidays. The red front door had a huge wreath on it. The porch banisters had garland and red ribbons. The white rocking chairs had boxes wrapped in cellophane paper to look like Christmas gifts.
As Nick reached out to ring the doorbell. I blurted out, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
Nick turned to me. For a moment his smile faded, and it looked as if he were considering what to say next, then he shook his head a little, as if remembering. “Well, I do think this would be a great place to live, because you’re right here in town.”
