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“I mean, I’m glad we can report this without having to pull them away from the fire. Good news. Boys in blue, saving lives.” She was in full-on flop sweat now. “Okay! I’ll take the photos! In HD, of course.”
The group backed away while Merry snapped away with her phone. She took a few pictures of the ground around the sign, then about a dozen of the sign itself, then two from the other side of the fence, just to be sure she looked enthusiastic.
“All right!” She dusted off her hands and waited for them to figure out the meeting schedule. But apparently they’d been having a totally different discussion.
“Who knows a reporter with the paper? I bet we can get someone out here this afternoon.”
What the hell? She’d only stepped away from them for a few minutes.
“Whoa, whoa! A reporter? I don’t think that’s a good idea at all.”
Jeanine crossed her arms. “We need to make clear that we won’t put up with this. If that little ingrate thinks he can—”
“We don’t know who did this. It could’ve been anyone. And if you start throwing accusations around, the board could be sued! This guy has already proven he’s litigious, right? Bad idea. We could lose everything.”
“She’s got a good point,” Levi said. Harry grunted in agreement.
The women did not agree. Kristen swept her manicured hands in a wide sweep. “So we’re supposed to just put up with this? I can hardly sleep at night! This is awful!”
Apparently Kristen Bishop hadn’t faced very many scary situations in her life. A broken mailbox and vague sign wouldn’t have even registered on Merry’s radar as a kid. Still, she felt terrible about her distress.
“I have an idea,” she said, trying to sound calm. “Maybe we should fight vinegar with honey. If that’s a thing people say. Do people say that? Anyway.” She cleared her throat and tried again. “Calling a reporter is a great idea, but instead of focusing on the negative, maybe we could get someone to do a whole write-up about Providence. About the trust. About what Gideon Bishop was trying to do and what this community meant to the area.”
“Hmm,” Levi responded, rocking back on his heels.
“Public opinion,” she pressed. “I’m not saying we don’t mention the troubles we’ve had with the lawsuit, but the best thing we can do for the case is create goodwill, don’t you think? Get the town on our side.”
“But what about the sign?” Kristen asked. “What about the mailbox?”
“Listen, if the town is on our side, I bet no one would dare to try anything else.”
Harry nodded. “It’s not a bad idea.”
Jeanine looked doubtful, but she held her tongue, and with Jeanine, that was nearly enthusiastic agreement.
“This is all so awful,” Kristen said again, defaulting to her martyr role. Merry could hardly resent it, though. She’d helped to create it.
Levi clapped his hands together. “Well, this is clearly an emergency situation. We’ll email you the meeting details when we have them, Merry. Ladies, let’s get you back in the car and out of this sun.”
They all turned away, murmuring to each other about the horror of it all. She was almost in the clear when Levi turned back. “I’d better take the sign as evidence.”
“Oh, I can do it. I’ll take it in and send them the pictures, too.”
“No, that’s too upsetting for a young woman like yourself.” She wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d offered smelling salts at that point, but she couldn’t take offense. Not when she was trying to keep a low profile. So instead of objecting, she watched Mr. Cannon pry the sign off the fence post and tuck it under his arm. “See?” He gestured toward the post. “Good as new. If you want to take a few days off, feel free. At the very least, you should probably work from home until this dies down.”
“Oh, maybe. We’ll see. Thank you, Mr. Cannon.”
She watched him toss the sign in the trunk and wished she could snatch it back.
Despite the problem of kidnapped evidence, Merry breathed a huge sigh of relief as the car rolled away. Then she coughed up some gravel dust and told herself not to feel proud. She’d done something awful. Terrible. She’d perpetuated a con.
But she had her meeting.
“All’s fair in love and war,” she muttered to herself. And ghost towns, apparently.
Or she’d just done the worst thing of her life and she’d regret it later. She’d find out soon enough.
CHAPTER TWELVE
