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Hey, Jackson. Just wanted to wish you good luck at the meeting tomorrow. I talked to your grandfather earlier. I thought it went well, but I guess we’ll have to wait and see.
DAD
I know it’s going to be tough leaving, but we’re looking forward to you being here with us. Your mother is very excited. You’ll never have to cook again, so that’s a plus.
DAD
Call me when you can.
I text them both back and tell them everything is good here on my end, but my father insists on a phone call. I certainly won’t tell either of them I was at Solia’s—Dad will think I’m a jerk for leading her on, and I’m sure Shannon will be hopeful I’ve changed my mind. I already know she is holding on to hope for Solia and me. They clearly hit it off. Solia has seamlessly woven herself into the fabric of Meriden, and she’ll be on my mind regardless of where I rest my head.
I call Dad from my driveway a few minutes later. He spoke to my grandmother earlier and she had trouble recalling Shannon’s name. Grandpa insisted she was tired from a long day, but it raised an alarm. My father then called Shannon because I was unreachable. Everyone has their panties in a bunch, worried that Sylvia might be showing early signs of dementia.
Like the saying goes, when it rains, it pours.
I promise to pay closer attention and inquire about a doctor’s visit. But the conversation and the worry in my father’s voice plants yet another seed of doubt. Meriden seems reluctant to release her grip on my future.
24
The knots in my stomach harden to stone around two o’clock. Even though I know no decisions will be made at this meeting, I’m nervous as hell. The summer is flying by, and I want this whole debacle to be over and Green Breeze Enterprises to leave so I can keep my cabin and move on.
I arrive at town hall early as promised, along with what seems like the entire town. I drive to the crowded entrance of the parking lot, realizing I will have to park up the way and walk. Residents already line the road in front of town hall. Most people are holding protest signs, and trucks roll past honking in support. Guilt sinks in as I hightail it half a mile up the road and run back to the meeting. Thank goodness I wore sneakers!
With my sign in hand, I approach the building. Unsure of what to do or where to stand, I scan the growing throng in search of a familiar face. Sure enough, to my relief, Gerry appears.
“Solia!” he yells through the crowd. I tuck my poster under my arm and squeeze through the mob.
When I reach Gerry, he loops his arm around mine and leads me to the end of the line of protestors. “Here, there is a little more space to breathe. You’ve got your sign, so hold it high!”
I tossed and turned for nights over what to write on this freaking sign but finally went with “Blow your wind somewhere else! Don’t touch my cabin!” I cringe at the decision, but whatever.
I hold the sign, my arms locked in position, and put on mydon’t mess with meface. Cars and trucks continue to honk as they drive by, the protestors getting louder as the crowd grows. I wish Mia had come with me, but she finds crowds overwhelming, and my attending the meeting was a convenient excuse for her to see Tyler again. I know she’s into this guy, but he’s taking an awful lot of her time.
Everyone waves their signs in the air. After a while, my arms ache. Around five forty-five, a murmur spreads through the crowd that it’s time to head in. I pull my sign to my side and turn when I hear a man in the crowd yell, “Stop!”
Everyone turns to glare at the Green Breeze corporate vehicle cruising to the last reserved spot in the parking lot. I’m not exactly sure why they receive front-row parking, but I guess that’s beside the point. I immediately recognize the two men through the windshield of the blacked-out SUV. The driver is the sexy CEO asshole, Nick Ford, and Mark Hogan is in the passenger’s seat.
To get through the crowd, they have to drive at a snail’s pace. People start yelling, “Get out of our town.” “Take your wind turbines and get out!” “You can’t buy us out of here.” “This is our town!” The gathering borders on aggressive.
My hands sweat, and I see worried looks on residents’ faces. I breathe easier when the crowd moves toward the building entrance.
The two Green Breeze reps finally make it into their parking spot, but they remain in the vehicle. I watch them as I wait at the back of the group of protestors. Ford and Hogan must figure it’ll be safer for them to join the meeting once everyone is inside. I can’t say I blame them; I’d do the same thing. The size of the group is rather intimidating and emotions are on edge.
Being new to town makes it difficult to blend in. People continuously stare my way and smile unknowingly. I prepared a statement, but other than that, I plan to hide in the back. Gerry nods when I walk through the door. He’s holding a clipboard and pen, directing traffic to keep the line moving.
There are definitely more people than chairs. At least forty rows have been set up and are filled. People congregate on both sides of the room, allowing a tiny, narrow aisle to walk through. People lean against their spouse or friend, creating groups of two or three people deep. The room is not large enough to accommodate everyone comfortably. This has to be some sort of fire code violation.
Residents continue to squeeze in wherever they can, and the noise level rises as people try to talk over one another’s conversations. They’ve organized the stage in what I assume is the regular town council setup. The same small podium with the microphone sits at the front with a large boardroom table and seven chairs in the middle.
Gerry loops his arm around mine, passes the clipboard to the man at his side, and says, “There you are. You’re the last one. Everyone else is here. Oh, and don’t worry, I already put your name at the top of the list.”
Without another word, Gerry leads me to the front of the audience. As we walk by each row, people shift in their seats, and I see them whispering. I cross my arms over my chest and concentrate on moving forward. “Gerry, what are you doing? I’d rather be in the back. I don’t need to sit in front.”
“Solia, all the property owners are sitting in front.” Gerry points to the hanging rope holding a Reserved sign at the end of the second row. There is one seat left I assume to be mine. Even though Gerry and Mr. Kelley informed me of who the other property owners were, I haven’t met them all.
I nervously sit on the cold metal chair. I look to my right and spot Earl and Sylvia alongside Jackson and Shannon. Jackson looks hotter than ever. Gone is his hat and dirty jeans. His hair is styled back and out of his face, making his eyes stand out more than usual. He has on a dark green polo shirt, which is snug on his biceps.
What I would give to have those arms around me.
