AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“And second,” Vickie continued. “I have an idea how we can make Karen Schiff back downandmake Zoey happy, too. And it’ll be just in time for Summerfest weekend.”
Summerfest was a combination art and music festival held every August in Rendezvous Falls. The college campus hosted it, and local businesses sponsored the awards and the bands. Mike looked across the table at Vickie, and she gave him a bright smile.
“What? She’s my goddaughter, remember? I’ll be damned if some outsider is going to make her get rid of her father’s legacy. I’ll also be damned if I’ll let her best friend let her down.” She winked at him. “Soyouput together the legal argument for the board, andI’lltell you all how we’re going to handle Karen Schiff.”
By the time Vickie finished unveiling her plan, which—being Vickie—she’d presented with a little more drama than necessary, there was applause around the table. Mike only wished he’d come up with it.
“Zoey is going to love that idea!” his grandmother exclaimed.
Iris nodded in agreement. “I hate to inflate your swelled head any further, but damn, Vickie—that is a great idea. Not just for Zoey, but for Rendezvous Falls.”
“And Summerfest is the perfect place to announce it,” Cecile added. She turned to Rick at her side. “I’m guessing you helped with this?”
He shrugged. “I may have dropped a few words in the dean’s ear, but don’t forget Vickiedatedthe guy, so she probably had more influence over Howard Greer than I did.”
Mike sat back in his chair with a smile. The tide had turned. If they could make this work, and he had no doubt this group of senior troublemakers could bend the entire universe to their will, then Zoey might finally see how much the people in town believed in her. And maybe that would give her the courage to take that step toward loving him.
His phone pinged with a message from... Hazel?
H: Boytoy Redemption plan is on. Click link. Learn steps. Meet me @ Mary’s 9am.
Oh, damn.He’d forgotten about the promise he’d made at their apology meeting. Or more accurately, he was hopingshe’dforget about it. Hazel had insisted she wanted to make up for the video she’d made, and that her plan would befire.He had a feeling this was more aboutBoytoy humiliation than redemption. But Hazel was Zoey’s daughter through and through. Once she declared a plan, it was going to happen. He read it again and grimaced. Whatstepswas he supposed to learn? He was afraid to click the link.
“Trouble?” Nana asked, nodding toward the phone.
Mike ran his fingers through his hair.
“More than you can imagine, but I guess I’d better get used to it.”
Hazel had declared a semitruce at their apology chat. She liked Mike, but she was still undecided about him being with her mother. She’d agreed to give him a chance, though, and he’d agreed to be completely open and honest with her...and toalwayslock the door from now on. He was sliding the phone back into his pocket when Helen held up a piece of paper excitedly. “Hold on! This might be what we’re looking for!”
Mike’s hope grew brighter. He might be able to keep that promise to Zoey after all.
IFZOEYTHOUGHTshe’d been shocked at the number of cars in the parking lot at the town hall, she was even more shocked at the dramatic turn of events at the zoning meeting right now. Mike was standing in front of the standing-room-only crowd, explaining why “Hartford Farm” should be declared a historic landmark property.
The town board itself couldn’t do that, of course, but he told them he’d already submitted paperwork to the county and the state in an attempt to make that happen. By doing so, he argued that they shouldn’t make any changes to the zoning status until they heard back from both.
Zoey looked down to her lap, trying to hide her smile. Decisions like that could take months, sometimes years, to churn through committees. It was a clever ploy on Mike’s part. Unfortunately, it would delay the problem rather than solving it. Because Karen Schiff was sitting right there in the front row with her husband, on the opposite side of the center aisle from Zoey.
Edward Schiff looked like he’d rather be on the surface of the sun than in that meeting. Zoey leaned to the side to get a better look at Karen. The woman, with her cropped blond hair looking like a helmet, was glancing around the room with a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. She was probably as surprised by the turnout as Zoey was. And the crowd was clearly there for Zoey—the room burst into applause every time Mike made a point.
The only thing missing was a cape attached to his shoulders as he paced the floor in front of the board, pleading her case. He was her hero right now. He caught her eye just then and gave a quick wink. He was enjoying this. And she was enjoying watching.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we’ll find that the Hartford Farm will qualify for historic designation. The original owner, Horace Hartford, was the blacksmith who created some of our town’s original and most ornate iron fences, including the intricate gate at the entrance of Brady College.”
Hazel was sitting next to Zoey, and they stared at each other in surprise. She’d never heard that story before. Mike explained how records proved that her great-great-grandfather had helped create the iconic look of the town that was world-famous for its Victorian style. Since the town itself had been recognized as anationalhistoric landmark, with many individual homes also sporting signs from New York State describing their significance, then surely, Mike insisted, the home of Horace Hartford would also qualify. It was fascinating, but Zoey couldn’t help thinking that it might not keep Karen Schiff from getting her way. Rules were rules.
“In addition, if you’ll take a look at Exhibit E in your packets,” Mike was saying. He gestured to the glossy, bound booklets of material he’d handed out to the board members and everyone who walked in the door until they’d run out. Zoey was flipping through hers to find the list of old census copies. She saw Horace Hartford’s name on several of them, and then her great-grandfather, her grandfather and her dad.
“If you look at the occupation entered by every generation of Hartford men until Robert Hartford,” Mike said, “you’ll see it listed as blacksmith or ironworker. Since these gentlemen all appeared to use the barn and the attached workshop as their smithy, I think we can agree that the property has continually been home to a business since the 1800s. Which means it should qualify for a grandfather clause, allowing a business to continue there now.”
Marty Watson, a longtime town employee and current head of the zoning board, pushed back his ball cap and scratched his head. “Look, Mike, just because there was a smithy there a hundred years ago doesn’t mean there should be one there now. Besides—” the old man gestured in Zoey’s direction “—Zoey ain’t no blacksmith. She fixes vacuum cleaners. That’s hardly historically significant.”
Karen Schiff raised her hands to start clapping at what seemed a point for her side, but her husband’s withering stare stopped her. Her hands fell back to her lap.
“Well,” Mike replied, “if you look at Exhibit—”
Marty slapped his book closed. “I don’t need to read some damnnovelto make a zoning decision.” Zoey’s fears returned. Maybe this wouldn’t work, after all. “I’ve known you since you were running around your grandpa’s bar in diapers, Mike McKinnon. You don’t need to come in here and razzle-dazzle us with all your legal wizardry.”
