Page 23 of Holding Ground

My voice shakes a bit when I say, “Okay. Thanks, Dr. Fenmore.”

“Emelia, I don’t want you to be alarmed. Most of the time, something like this is either a false positive or an isolated result that doesn’t indicate anything serious. But call me right away if anything changes with your health. Try not to worry.”

Not worry? She has no idea who she is talking to.

“All right. Thanks for calling, Doctor.”

She says goodbye, then ends the call while I stand for a beat, still holding the phone to my ear.

It’s not exactly the kind of phone call you expect when you’re a healthy thirty-two-year-old woman. But what’s even worse is that I couldn’t answer any of her questions about my maternal side of the family and will never be able to.

CHAPTER

EIGHT

Elliott

Since Ansel had no plans to attend the town hall meeting in the high school gym, he came over to my place to watch Baylor.

Irritation already scratches at my neck as I walk through the doors and find Uncle Roy in the crowd. He’s a few rows back and seated with the Thermos Crew, and there’s an empty seat beside him, so I make my way up the aisle to his row.

The council members are seated in the front row on the opposite side of the aisle. They’re the ones who will be voting on whether to sell the land to the developer and approve the developer’s plans for the parcel.

“Fellas.” I nod at the four men and bend down to lift a packet of papers off the chair and sit.

The package is the developer’s proposal, and it appears that one has been left on every chair in the place. My new bunkie renter is probably responsible for them.

A quick glance at the stage and I see that Emelia is seated on the stage along with the mayor. I wonder what he thinks of all this. Why the hell is he even giving her a platform to spread her bullshit?

Her hair is pulled back in a loose French braid, and she’s wearing a pair of light-blue dress pants and a cream blouse. She looks professional, yet approachable. Yet again, all I can think is that it’s part of her act. They probably tell her in Boston to try to project an image that will suck the locals in and help them trust her.

The murmurs rippling through the crowd die down as Mayor Bassett approaches the microphone set up at center stage. “Good evening, everyone. Thank you so much for coming out tonight for this information session. I want to stress that nothing has been decided yet, and nothing is set in stone. Miss Greene is going to go through the presentation first, then she’ll take any questions or comments you may have. And now I’m going to hand the microphone over to Miss Greene.”

Emelia gets up from her seat, smiling, and approaches the microphone. Her smile slips a bit when our gazes cross paths, but she looks away quickly.

“Thank you so much for the warm welcome, Mayor Bassett. I appreciate you all giving me some of your time tonight so that I might go over what my firm is hoping to achieve here in Echo Lake. But before I do that, the first thing I would like to say is that this proposal is meant to be a win-win. It’s not about coming in here and taking over and changing things so drastically that in a few years, you don’t even recognize your home anymore.” Her eyes shift to me and remain on me in a challenge. “It’s about working with the people in Echo Lake and achieving our goals. I’m here to get your feedback on what we’ve proposed, and I’ll be making my way around town over the coming weeks to hear your thoughts. That said, if there’s anything we don’t cover tonight, or you think of something later, or just prefer to have a private conversation with me, I have a bunch of business cards up here I’ll be happy to pass out when I’m done.”

She starts her presentation. I lean back in my seat, arms crossed, determined to wait for her to speak her bullshit so I can stand and tell this town what will really happen if this land sells.

She’s good. I’ll give her that. Emelia comes across as believable and earnest. The development she’s proposing would take the city-owned acres of land on the north shore of the lake and develop it into low-rise condo buildings with retail on the ground floor. She has charts predicting the additional property tax income that would be brought in, the influx of population, and what that would mean for downtown businesses. All the arrows on her charts point up, and she talks a lot about community-centered development and sustainable tourism, which to me is just code for we’ll do what we want, whether you like it or not.

But a good portion of the room nods along with her presentation, which is what worries me. The councilors might be the ones voting, but the residents will be the driving force behind their decision.

“I’ve had an opportunity to speak to some of the people I see here tonight, but not everyone yet. I’d like to open up the floor for any questions you have for me, and I’d also like to take some notes on what your concerns are. Anything I can’t answer on the spot, I’ll find out the information and circle back to it at the next meeting.”

A few people in the room stand up from their chairs.

Dottie is the first one to ask a question. “Hi, Emelia.” She gives her a warm smile. So Emelia has already sunk her teeth into her. Good to know. “Do you have any idea how many jobs this project would create?”

Emelia returns her smile and taps something on her tablet, then breaks down the projection of how many jobs the project would create, both before, during, and after construction.

“Will local businesses be prioritized for contracts during construction, or are you going to bring in a bunch of big city contractors for everything?” Jeff Wilson asks. No doubt he wants the job since he’s a general contractor.

“We always prioritize contractors from the local area first when we’re working on a project. The process should be no different with this development.” Emelia smiles and thanks him for his question. There’s a smugness now as if she thinks this is going better than she expected.

When Jeff sits down, she’s already won him over. Dollar signs practically glow in his eyes.

Deacon is the next to ask a question. “Why would there have to be retail on the ground floor? That’s just going to draw people there, rather than downtown, and that doesn’t help me?”