“Mr. Cameron. Hello,” I say, closing my book, which he seems to take as an invitation for him to sit with me. Well, okay, then. “How are you doing today?”
“Oh, fine, fine. You know, I heard you’re a finance man.” Of course he heard. Beth wasn’t lying when she said the walls haveears. The few people I’ve spoken to have all “heard” whatever detail about myself I’d told them last. I’m from Toronto. I’m thirty-three years old. I work as an investment banker. I chose to have a cottage here over Ontario because I’ve always loved the East Coast. If I’m going to spend hours in a car getting to a cottage from Toronto, I might as well fly here. No, I’m not married. I have a pet python. The last one was a lie, which got me into a situation where I ended up listening to a man tell me all the reasons snakes make the best pets. Every piece of information has come back to me in the order in which I gave it.
“That’s right,” I reply as I vow not to talk about myself to anyone ever again.
“Well, I wonder if you’d be interested in sitting in on a meeting with me. You might remember I told you I’m the president of the Business Bureau. We’re trying to grow the Main Street area, make it more enticing for more than just summer tourists and visitors. It’d be great to have someone to advise on where to invest the town’s funds.” His eyes are wide with hope, and while no part of me wants to get back to my regular work routine yet, it would be nice to have something to spend my time on while I’m here. If this will help the town, it seems like a double win.
“Sure, yeah. I’d be happy to help in any way I can.”
“Fantastic,” he says, beaming at me. His brown eyes are the same shade as Beth’s, but his are dull where hers always seem to shine. His hair is dark in the spots where he hasn’t lost it, and I wonder if she looks more like her mom. I wonder if she lives in town, too.
“How’s 9 a.m. Wednesday morning at the town hall?” Tim—his name finally came to me—stands, and I appreciate that he’s not looking to linger.
“That’s great. I’ll be there.”
“All right. See you then.” He gives me a friendly shoulder pat, and then he’s on his way out.
The idea of doing something useful during my time here feels good. I know my therapist is going to be real happy to learn I may have more to do than obsess over a woman and sit in a coffee shop all day.
CHAPTER 14
MY SWEATY FOREHEAD IS WORKING OVERTIME ON MAKING ME LOOK LIKE AN ASS.
BILLIE
I’m so fucking late.
Damn it, why did Ihaveto make myself a smoothie for breakfast? I should have left when I was ready and early, but nooooo. My unmedicated ADHD was too loud so early in the morning and decided I had time for a smoothie, which turned into organizing things in the freezer because I couldn’t find the frozen fruit, which then turned into wondering why the blender is stored in such an inconvenient spot, which then turned into searching for a straw for my cup.
When I realized how little I wanted to clean up my own mess, I finally looked at the clock and saw it was already nine o’clock. The meeting with my dad and whoever else he had invited for this town restoration project was due to start, and I didn’t even have my shoes on.
The worst part about this is I ran out the door and left my smoothie on the counter. There’s no way in hell I’m drinking that shit when I get home this evening. Ew. Just thinking about having to clean it up is grossing me out.
With a hand on my stomach and sweat building on my forehead, I walk into the conference room my dad booked, hoping I can be discreet. The door, however, has other plans: it screeches and squeaks for several seconds as I open it slowly, and then trills again on its way to closing.
One hundred percent of the attention settles on me, like a hot, too-bright spotlight. I refuse to look, but the heat of it is impossible to ignore. I blow at the stands of hair falling over my eyes, but they don’t move, as my sweaty forehead is working overtime on making me look like an ass.
“Morning,” I announce brightly with an awkward wave. My dad gives me a disapproving look, which he quickly covers with a tight-lipped smile. I take a seat across from someone typing on a laptop. When I pull my chair in and look up at the person next to me, I find brown eyes already locked in on mine. “So sorr?—”
“Good morning.” Peter’s deep voice washes over me, and my stomach sinks to my feet, my mouth goes dry, and my lungs forget how to do their one, singular job. I stare wide-eyed at the last person I expected to see here. His smirk is conveniently hidden from my father as he faces me.
“Thanks for joining us, Lizzie.” My dad continues talking, but my ears have ceased to work as well, because all I can focus on is Peter mouthingLizzieat me, and it’s not until the woman across from us laughs loudly—the one I recognize as a member of the Business Bureau whose full-time job seems to be kissing my father’s ass—that I come out of my stupor.
“Uh, yeah, sorry I’m late, everyone.” I clear my throat and set my phone on the table, facing down.
“Right. Well,Billie,” my dad starts, and I realize he must have been correcting himself earlier, making the same joke he always does: “I can’t keep up with what my daughter chooses since it changes so often, and that includes the name she goes by.” Most people don’t get the reference to my sexuality, but the jab isalways there, sharp enough for me—andonlyme—to feel. “You know everyone present, and you’ve been slightly briefed on what we’d like to do in town. I was going over our goals to rejuvenate Balsam Bay and bring in more businesses that can thrive year-round, not just in the summer months when it’s high season for visitors.”
“It sounds exciting. I started doing some research on other southern shore towns, the trends in Nova Scotia, and I have to say, Balsam Bay is promising given how it’s growing.” Peter’s words stun all of us into silence. “Anyway, I’d love to know whether you’ve given thought to where you’d like to start.”
“Billie, why don’t you go ahead and run through what we discussed. I’ll fill in any blanks along the way.” Dad’s lack of confidence in me is seemingly never-ending. As if I don’t know exactly what it would take to renovate the town’s center, taking into consideration the heritage status of many of the buildings.
“Right. Well, this would have to be done in phases, of course, so we’d want to start where we can get immediate traction—” I pull the town map laid out on the table closer, ready to point to what I know would be the best place to start, but Peter speaks up.
“The marina,” he says confidently as my finger lands on the exact spot on the map.
“Um, yeah. I mean, not so much the marina itself, but the surrounding area. If we had more outdoor spaces for people to enjoy, it would be so much more than a place to park boats, you know?” I pull my hand back, shrugging as I look up at Peter again.
He nods emphatically. “Adding a boardwalk would be a great start, maybe something that connects the marina to Main Street and the town hall?”
