Cam paused in his work to try the house phone again. No answer. He tried Dewey’s cell, wondering if he’d misdialed the first time, but the recorded message told him the number was no longer in service. “Hey, anybody know if Dewey got a new cell number?”
Steve Vessey paused to mop his brow with a faded bandanna.“I think he had to let his cell service go. They had to keep the land line because of the kids, you know?”
None of the rest of the crew knew where he was.
Prying up the overgrown boxwood hedge, Cam decided that if he’d heard nothing in another hour, he’d take a break and get Violet to call over to check with Dewey’s wife Pauline at the salon where she worked.
Even as Cam dragged the boxwood to the trailer to haul off, Dewey’s ancient, mud brown Chevy rumbled up and parked behind the line of vehicles.
He leapt out and made a beeline for Cam. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I’m late.” A moon-faced man with a body like a fireplug, Dewey picked up the other side of the hedge and helped Cam heave it into the trailer. “I’ll understand if you had to replace me for this job.”
“We’re fine. Is everything all right with you, though? Nothing’s amiss with the kids or Pauline?”
“Oh no. Didn’t mean to worry you. I was up at the job fair. It took a lot longer than I expected.”
“What job fair?”
“Up at the community center. That new store GrandGoods is up there taking applications.”
An event like that would’ve required special permission. It should’ve gone through cursory City Council review, and yet this was the first Cam was hearing of it.
Something must’ve shown in his expression because Dewey flushed. “I know you’re against them coming, Cam. But Pauline really wanted me to put in an application.”
“Certainly she did. You have a duty to apply for anything you can to support your family. I understand that.” But he sure as hell needed to find out what was going on.
Giving instructions to Dewey about what needed to be done before lunch, Cam rinsed off his hands and headed into town.
There was a line. It snaked out of the community center doors and wrapped down the sidewalk, all the way around the quarter mile walking track next door. A banner was tied up on the side of the building with the GrandGoods logo, proclaiming NOW HIRING. Cam parked down by Poor Richard’s Print Shop and walked the three blocks back. He didn’t miss the assorted grumbles from the masses as he strode past them all and went inside.
Tables were set up in the gymnasium. Bill Sutto was there, along with four other people wearing GrandGoods polo shirts, each talking to prospective employees. And, of course, in the thick of it all stood Vick Burgess.
“What’s going on here? Who authorized this?”
“Why, the City Council did,” Vick said with an avuncular smile. “You didn’t get the memo?”
“I most certainly did not.” Cam was willing to bet the bastard hadn’t even sent him the email.
“It passed the others with a quick review. Nobody saw any reason not to get the ball rolling since GrandGoods was approved. The people need the boost of some good news.”
“Nothing is definite yet. They still have to obtain the special use permit before they even complete the purchase of the land. What’s it going to do to community morale to get hopes up for a job, only to have the company defeated?”
Vick looked around at all the people. “Are you really so naive you think it won’t pass?”
Cam skimmed the crowd, noting as many familiar faces as strangers. This would pull in people all over the county and beyond. They’d get ten times the number of applicants they needed for a store the size they proposed. Under those circumstances, GrandGoods could afford to be choosy and pay low. The supply of potential workers was sufficient that no one would risk complaining because any job was better than none.
“When are you going to realize that you’re out-gunned on this, Crawford? You and your coalition are on a little island all your own, where it apparently rains glitter and everybody shits rainbows. This is reality. This is the future. You’d better get used to it.”
“I will fight you and this until my last breath.”
“What do you think you can do in two days?”
Cam had no answer for that. Knowing there was nothing he could do to stop the job fair from proceeding, he turned to leave. “This isn’t over.”
“It was over before you started,” Vick called after him.
Cam stalked out, noting with disgust and disappointment a few members of the coalition standing in line. Dave Lautner and Jordan Linley deliberately shifted away as Cam walked by, as if to pretend they didn’t see him, but the flush of red creeping up their necks belied the innocent gesture.
Cam didn’t stop. In his present mood, he sure as hell wasn’t in the right frame of mind to play even-tempered representative. He couldn’t blame them for hedging their bets. Not really. But Christ, couldn’t they wait until the fat lady had sung and the war was over? Having the community see them playing both sides didn’t look good for their cause.
Slamming the door to his truck, he cranked up and called Norah.
“Hey Leonidas, you snuck out early this morning.”
Despite his agitation, Cam felt his heart lighten at the sound of her voice. “Sorry about that. I had a landscaping job to finish prepping for. I figured you needed the sleep, and you looked all cozy in my bed.”
“Imagine my surprise when I went to sleep with you and woke up with Hush.”
“She’s a bed hog.”
“She also snores.” Norah laughed. “Are you free for lunch or are you working through?”
“Working through. Listen, we’ve got a problem.” He told her about the job fair and his encounter with Vick. “It’s not good.”
“You had to know that they’d counter with something. They’ve been too quiet while we put together this Shop Local movement.”
“I assumed that was because they were cocky.”
“Well, you’re not wrong about that. But the fact is, they wouldn’t have to put themselves out there like this if we weren’t making a dent in public opinion. It’s a waste of their man hours to take applications for a store that isn’t built yet when they could’ve just as easily waited.”
“Please tell me you expected this and that you’ve got some genius plan up your sleeve.”
“As it happens, I just might. Finish up your workday, and I’ll be ready to tell you all about it when you get home.”
Cam said goodbye and disconnected, musing that whatever happened, he could get used to the idea of going home to her.
~*~
Norah was drowning in paper and wishing for the swanked out office Mitch had designed her, or at the very least, the series of boards where she could organize and spread out. The open concept of Cam’s loft left almost no blank walls for her to co-opt. Cabinetry, shelving, or windows covered almost all of it. So she’d resorted to ludicrous numbers of tabs open in the browser on her laptop and piles on every horizontal surface, except for the sofa, where Hush had been snoring since they came in from an afternoon walk.
A giddy excitement bubbled in Norah’s blood, mixed with a low-grade anxiety. This wasn’t the killing blow Cam wanted to deliver to GrandGoods and their plans. But like the idea of opening her own firm, this was an option for Wishful she was certain no one had considered before. And it was the only alternative she could think of that would not only maintain the integrity of the town but capitalize on the very things that made it unique.
She just had to convince them it was the right choice.
A truck door slammed below. Hush scrambled up and off the sofa, tail sweeping across the coffee table and upsetting several of Norah’s piles in the process. Groaning, Norah sank to the floor to retrieve her research. She’d just managed to gather up the mess when Cam came through the door. Hush gave a delighted bark and began to dance in front of him, wagging her entire butt before starting to bounce back toward Norah.
>
“For the love of all that is holy, keep her over there until I can get this sorted. That tail might as well be a wrecking ball.”
“Wow. Is there actually any paper left in Wachoxee County?”
“Be thankful I restrained myself from taping it all over your walls. It was a near thing.”
“You’ve been busy.” He herded the dog toward the treat bucket in the kitchen, peering at some of the stacks on the counter. “You’re looking at unemployment rates for the last three decades? Isn’t that kind of excessive?”
“Not when you’re mapping economic trends and trying to forecast the impact of future actions. It’ll be relevant at the debate and something Dr. Brosnan will be bringing up. She’s hoping to have her preliminary findings for the second economic impact study by then.”
“Here’s hoping.”
Norah set her stack of papers down and crossed over to him.
“Don’t touch me. I’m filthy.”
He smelled of earth and man and good, hard work, something her soft-handed ex had never done. Ignoring his edict, Norah rose to her toes to brush her lips over his, careful to keep from pressing up against him, as he really was covered in dirt. “Welcome home.”
“Give me five minutes to shower, and I’ll show you how much I appreciate you being here to say that.” His hazel eyes glinted with promise.
“Five minutes, then come out here ready to listen. I have a lot to tell you. Maybe there’ll be time after that for you to show your…appreciation.”
With a flash of dimples he disappeared into the bathroom.
By the time he came back in clean jeans and a t-shirt, his hair damp and skin pink from scrubbing, Norah had reconstructed her piles. He poured himself a glass of tea and came to join her on the sofa, evicting Hush.
“Okay, I’m ready to hear your genius solution, Wonder Woman. Lay it out for me.”
Norah almost hated the look of expectant faith on his face. “Wishful is on the verge of bankruptcy. That’s nothing you didn’t already know. It’s symptomatic of a larger economic trend that has been progressing for the last three decades.”
The faint trace of humor in his expression faded. “All true, but that’s rather overstepping the bounds of the problem we’re facing.”
“No, it’s really not. GrandGoods is only a small part of the full problem. Even if they came, they wouldn’t be the answer. They’re simply not big enough, and they’re going to have further detrimental effect on other businesses in the local economy. Plus, whatever short-term gains they may bring wouldn’t be immediate. It would take time to build the store, to stock it and get it open. They alone won’t be enough to reverse the larger economic trend.”
“All of which we’ll bring up at the debate. But how does that fix the problem in the short term?”
“Unfortunately, there is no short-term fix. You can't produce jobs out of thin air, certainly not in this kind of compressed time frame.”
Cam set the empty tea glass aside. “So what are you saying? That it’s hopeless? That we don’t stand a chance of stopping this?”
“I’m saying we have to think bigger than a Band-aid for this situation. If Wishful is going to be saved from economic ruin, you have to realize you’re playing a long-haul game.”
“If you wanted to depress me, you’re doing a damned good job of it.”
Norah curled her hands around his and squeezed. “I wouldn’t bring this up if I didn’t have a plan.”
He eased somewhat at that. “I’m listening.”
“Do you know why I come here? Why I’ve always loved coming here?”
“Miranda. Because we’re your second family.”
She tipped her head to acknowledge the point. “That’s part of it. But I love this town for a whole different set of reasons, reasons I’m not sure you can fully appreciate having never lived in the city. Compared to all the other places I’ve lived since my parents divorced, Mississippi is a whole other world, a whole different way of life. A more…personal way of life.
“I loved Wishful from the first time I came home with Miranda. I love that people smile and nod and speak here. I love that Mama Pearl will dish up a dose of sass to complete strangers, and will remember their order, even when she hasn’t seen them in six months. I love that everybody knows everybody, and that you can’t get away with shit because somebody will tell your mama. I love that people still have moral values here, that they’re generous and open. I love that I haven’t been here in three years, but so many people still know who I am and have been keeping up with me through Miranda. I love the town itself because it’s adorable and charming, but it’s the people here who really matter, who make Wishful special.”
Cam smiled. “My mom has said much the same.”
“The culture and way of life here is, as the reporter said, this wonderful little slice of Southern Americana that simply doesn’t exist in urban areas. And that is what we need to capitalize on.”
“I don’t understand. How would we do that?”
“By promoting rural tourism.”
He stared at her with abject horror. “You want to turn my town into a tourist attraction?”
“I’m not talking about a theme park, Cam. I’m talking about taking advantage of what makes this town special and bringing in others who would appreciate that personal touch. Rural tourism is a booming trend across the country, and it’s a means of revitalizing and diversifying a lot of formerly agrarian and rural communities that have suffered economic downturns, exactly like Wishful has.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“Think about what you show people who come here from out of town. You take them to the fountain, tell them the story, and get them to make a wish. You take them out to Hope Springs. You take them to Dinner Belles or The Spring House. You show them all the things that make you proud of Wishful. And people respond to that.”
“I still don’t see how that translates into tourism.”
“You can’t appreciate this because you’ve always had it. You’ve always lived here, except for when you were away at college. The fact is, a whopping eighty percent of Americans live in urban areas. They’re caught up in the go go go go go, and they want somewhere they can go for a change of pace, for a reminder that there are still places in this country that remember what’s important. People want to slow down—whether they realize it or not. Jesus, look at me.”
“If you call what you’ve been doing the last couple of months slowing down, then we need to have a talk.”
Norah laughed. “Okay, so maybe I’m a poor example. But think about it. Think about how I couldn’t turn off or relax. Even as busy as I’ve been since we started the coalition, I’m less stressed, less everything since I came here. Largely because of you, yes, but also because I finally shifted gears. And it’s been amazing to reconnect with that. I want to give that to other people. And I want Wishful to reap benefits.”
“You really think people would come?”
“I know they would. This is the answer, Cam. This is how Wishful can take care of itself instead of relying on outside industry. And it’s something that can grow and adapt as the town itself does. It’s a viable alternative with far more long-term benefits than anything Vick Burgess has up his sleeve.”
“Okay.” Cam nodded. “Okay, let’s do it.”
His ready agreement threw her. “Really? You like the idea?”
“I love it. It completely gets at the heart of what I want for Wishful. Sustainable community improvement that strengthens and enhances what’s already here rather than changing everything.” He lifted her hands to press a kiss to her knuckles. “Someone’s been paying attention.”
“I wouldn’t be good at what I do, if I didn’t.”
“I’m counting on those rock star capabilities.”
Norah grinned, thrilled to be needed, to have his faith in her abilities. “Fantastic. I’ve got calls in to several people who run the rural tourism campaigns in their towns. I really wan
t to pick their brains about what they’ve done that was successful. I’ve got a ton more research to do on it before I can pull together a proper prospectus.”
“You’ve got two days.”
She gaped at him. “Two days? Are you kidding me?”
“The public debate and the City Council vote is in two days. You’ve been saying we need an alternative. We’ve got to let people know about it.”
And suddenly that faith felt like the weight of a world rather than motivation. “Cam, I’m good, but I can’t possibly have a full work-up to show the public done in two days. I don’t know enough about it.”
“Then don’t do the full work-up. Boil it down to the essentials. I can arrange for you to meet with the Council in private before the debate so you can present to them. They’ve got to have something else to sway them to vote down this special use permit.”
“The permit is specifically about giving them permission for commercial activity on that particular piece of land, right?”
“Yeah. If the permit gets voted down, then GrandGoods has to find another location. It’s not a full win. It’d just buy us some time. Unless they decide it’s more trouble than it’s worth, and they choose to pull out.”
“Okay. Okay, so let’s approach this not from the perspective of stopping GrandGoods in its entirety. Let’s approach this from the angle of stopping them from building on that land. Hope Springs is one of the biggest existing assets Wishful has. It will only stay that way, stay a viable resource, if there’s not a big ass store plunked down on its banks. Okay, I can work with that.” She reached for a legal pad.
Cam handed over a purple pen. “Get to it, Wonder Woman.”
“I require fuel in the form of Chinese,” she told him. “It’s going to be a really long night.”
“Anything you want.”
“Bulletin boards.”
He laughed. “Seriously?”
“As many as you can beg, borrow, or steal.”
“Your wish, milady.”