20.

 

“Ready?” Dad asks, as we approach the front steps of the town hall.

“No.” I gulp, my stomach tied up in knots. The big day is here, and everyone’s arriving for the meeting. I don’t know whether to be nervous or relieved about the number of familiar faces I see filing inside: people I chatted to at the diner, guests from Nana’s funeral, and more. Maybe they’re here to support me—or maybe they just want a glimpse of the drama. Either way, I brace myself and follow them into the building.

Like most things in Beachwood Bay, the “town hall” actually serves many purposes. The old red-brick building is used for the tourist office, town library, and multi-purpose rooms too. As we head down the hallway, I can see a Mommy-and-Me yoga session in progress in one of the rooms, and a big display for summer reading. The meeting itself is taking place in one of the function rooms at the back; Nana’s old lawyer, Albus, greets us as we step into the room.

“Excellent turn-out,” he says, polishing his spectacles. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a meeting so well-attended!”

“As long as they’re here to vote for me,” I quip, awkward.

Albus chuckles. “Well, I can’t say anything about that. As a member of the council, I need to stay neutral until all the evidence has been heard. But between us…” He glances around, then gives me a friendly wink. “Good luck.”

He heads to the front of the room, where the members of the town council are taking their seats. “There you go,” Dad soothes me. “You’ve already got one vote sewn up.”

The butterflies in my stomach aren’t reassured.

“Have we got the files?” I ask, panicked. “And the environmental reports?”

“Everything’s right here.” Dad pats his briefcase. “I made two dozen extra copies too, so we can pass them out to everyone in the room. Although, I’m not sure we’ll have enough…”

The room is filling fast, people taking their seats on the rows of folding chairs.

“Should I go Xerox more?” I ask, my nerves growing. “Is there time? Crap, I should have prepared better—”

“Whoa, you need to calm down.” Dad pulls me to the side. “Take a deep breath. Everything’s going to be fine. I’ll go make some more copies, you say hello to everyone here.”

I gulp a lungful of air. “How do you do this every day in court?” I ask, envious of his poise.

Dad chuckles. “You get used to it, sweetheart. I was a wreck before my first big case. But I pulled it together,” he adds, seeing my panic. “And so will you. Just sit tight.”

He exits to make some more copies, and I try to distract myself by greeting everyone I recognize—and a few who I don’t. My guests from the B&B, the Petersons, are even here, wearing my campaign buttons, but there are a bunch of people huddled around with Hallie and some other people in fancy suits, glaring at me from across the room.

I try to quell my nerves. It’s just like law school, I tell myself. I did mock trials all the time: arguing my case, setting out the evidence. But then, it was all just play-acting for our professors. This time, it’s real.

The verdict will matter, whatever the result.

I catch sight of movement in the corner of my eye and turn in time to see Ash walk in. He’s looking serious, dressed in a button-down and suit pants, flanked by two associates, also dressed like they just stepped off a flight from New York. His brother, Dex, is with him too, and I see Alicia and Tegan enter behind them.

I send a wave, awkward. Alicia waves back, and mouths “good luck,” but Tegan gives me a wary look. I don’t blame her. I’m basically going to be standing up here and telling the town to reject her brother’s plans and everything he stands for.

I feel a pang of regret. I wish it didn’t have to be like this, but I don’t see what other choice I have to save the B&B.

Ash glances over and our eyes lock. Even after everything, I still feel that connection between us; as if only he can see exactly what I’m thinking and how I’m feeling. I could never explain it, and even now, with so much distance between us, I’m still struck by my body’s instinctive reaction.

But Ash looks away, his jaw set. He turns his back on me, and he couldn’t make his feelings more clear if he tried.

I try to ignore the bitter sting, but my heart aches. Just a few days ago, we were poised on the edge of something great, together, but now he’s acting like a stranger. I almost can’t believe we’ve shared so much: tender kisses and heartfelt confessions. That night in New York seems like a hundred years ago; our time together here in Beachwood Bay just as remote.

Everything is different now.

The mayor bangs a gavel and calls the meeting to order, just as my dad returns. He slides into a seat in the front row beside me, carrying a sheaf of information packs. “What’s the read on him?” he whispers, nodding to Mayor Sanders. A tall, good-natured man in his fifties with a Hawaiian-print shirt, the mayor is a regular at the diner—and loves Nana’s peach pie.

“I went by his house and spent an hour talking to his wife,” I whisper back.

“What did she say about the hotel?”

I shrug. “She said she’d have to talk to Ed about it. But she ate all the scones I brought.”

“Good enough.”

Dad sits back as the meeting gets underway. I expected to dive right into the development debate, but instead, there’s a bunch of other town business on the agenda. Mrs. Finnigan is proposing a no-littering fine increase, they have to vote on funds to repair the streetlights, and there’s a heated debate over whether to impose fines for dog-poop littering in the park. Just when I’m wondering if we’ll ever get around to the hotel, the mayor looks up from his paperwork.

“Now, onto the matter of permits. We have an application here requiring our approval. The plans appear to be in order, so now I ask if anyone would like to comment on the issue.”

This is it.

My heart racing, I get to my feet. “Noelle Olsen,” I say, my voice catching in my throat. “I’d like to oppose the plans.”

“Speak up, dear,” Albus urges me. “Let them hear you in the back.”

I turn to face the room, and my stomach twists even tighter. There must be a hundred people here!

Deep breaths, Noelle. Just speak from the heart.

I start again. “A lot of you I’ve already met, and if I haven’t, then I’m sure you’ve heard the stories from my grandmother.” There’s smiles and laughter. “I’m here because the proposed development will affect a lot of people and businesses here in town, including my own. I hope you’ll take the time to think about the impact of a big development like this, and consider all the arguments before you decide.”

My voice comes stronger now, and I find myself relaxing as I begin to outline all the potential problems Ash’s big project would bring. I talk about the influx of tourists, the damage of pollution and noise, and how it would separate out the beach from public land. My voice rings with passion as I talk about the changes such a huge development would bring.

“Right now, Beachwood Bay is made up of small, family-run businesses,” I finish. “It’s part of what makes this town so special, and brings back people for generations to make new memories here. My grandmother saw that, and I do now. Thank you for listening, and I hope you will consider rejecting these plans and keeping Beachwood Bay the small, peaceful escape that it’s always been.”

I sit down with a thump, my heart pounding. Oh God, I hope it was good enough to make them reconsider. I’m lost in a whirl of panic, then I hear applause. I look around, surprised, and find many people nodding with agreement and smiling at me.

My speech went OK!

“Good job, sweetie.” Dad pats me on the back. “An excellent case.”

I can only hope he’s right. The mayor waits for noise to die down, then looks to Ash. “Do you have any response to Miss Olsen’s concerns?” he asks.

“I sure do.” Ash gets to his feet, smiling. “I understand everyone’s concerned about keeping the character of this town. But let me assure you, my plans will only change Beachwood Bay for the better…”

He launches into his speech, going point-by-point against everything I’ve just said. I don’t know what I expected, but it isn’t this: instead of being stiff and angry, Ash seems totally relaxed. He flashes his charming grin around the room, even joking at times as he highlights all the new tourists and business the hotel will bring to town. I should have known he’d take this in stride: he wouldn’t have gotten to where he is in business without being able to charm and convince meetings just like this one to let his developments go ahead.

“I don’t think there’s a person in this room who won’t see a benefit somehow,” he finishes. “And hey, if you tell me otherwise, I’ll fix a couple of pool passes for you all to enjoy the facilities.”

There’s laughter. To my dismay, a lot of the people who were nodding in agreement during my speech now look like they’re on his side again!

I have to do something.

“But what about the environmental impact?” I ask, getting to my feet again. “That stretch of land is home to all kinds of birds and water fowl. The building work is going to destroy their natural habitats.”

Ash gives me a measured look. “I can assure you, all Callahan Group projects are designed to work with nature, not against it. And our surveys show no endangered species along that coast.”

“But you can’t be sure, can you?” I hone in on my last chance to stop him. Or, at least, delay. “There hasn’t been an official environmental report, or any independent survey. We don’t know what’s out there.”

“That’s a good point,” the mayor speaks up.

“And even just construction can be damaging,” I add. “All those trucks, the pollution and noise. Shouldn’t we play it safe and get those surveys done before anything is decided?”

“Like I said, we’ve had reports written—” Ash looks seriously pissed now, but I can’t back off, even for a second.

This is my last shot.

“You’ve had surveys done,” I interrupt him. “By your contractors from out of town. But I think the town would rather trust an independent survey. Isn’t that right?” I turn to the audience. There are sounds of agreement.

“If you’ll look at our research—” Ash tries again, but this time, it’s Albus who cuts him off.

“I think we’ve spent long enough on this issue,” he says smoothly. “I table a motion that we delay voting on the permit approval until we’ve had time to conduct the proper environmental studies. All those in favor?” He looks around the table of council members. There’s a unanimous sound of “ayes.”

“Motion passed.” The mayor bangs his gavel. “Permits will be delayed.”

Relief floods through me. I won!

But at the same time, my joy is bittersweet. Ash’s shoulder’s sag, and I can see the disappointment on his face. He worked hard on this development—he works hard at everything he does—and now it might all be for nothing.

I wish it didn’t have to be like this.

There’s a rush of conversation as the meeting lets out. People mill about, gossiping over the result. I sink back in my seat, exhausted from the stress of it all, but I’m still not able to relax completely. I’ve bought some time, but I don’t know what difference it’ll make. For all I know, they’ll do a survey next week and find no reason to stop the construction. Then I’ll be right back at square one again.

Ash clearly agrees, because he steams forwards through the crowd to talk to the council.

“How long do you think these surveys will take?” Ash’s jaw clenches together in a frustrated line. “I’ve got contractors arriving next week. We’re on a schedule here.”

“You better hold your horses,” Albus tells him. “Who knows when we’ll be done? There’s always a delay with the county about one thing or another. It could be months before we get someone out to start checking.”

Ash’s face falls. “We need to start construction before the weather turns,” he says, looking shell-shocked. “Lay the foundations, get the frame up…”

“Not before winter.” Albus looks sympathetic. “Still, the land will still be there next year.”

And so will I.

A six-month grace period may not seem like much, but it could be enough time to establish Rose Cottage as a real business, and shore up support with our guests to guarantee repeat booking. I’ll have the rest of the summer season, at least: months without the noise and chaos of construction ruining everyone’s vacations.

I really did it!

I hug Dad for real this time, and then Juliet is beside me too. “Congratulations!” she says, embracing me. “I’m so happy for you.”

“But what about…?” I trail off, looking over towards Ash again.

Juliet grins. “Please, just because everyone in this town is connected somehow, it doesn’t mean I’m not on your side. You’ve worked so hard on the B&B, I know how much it means to you.”

“Thanks.” I smile, unable to keep the happiness from my face. “I feel like a huge weight’s been lifted from my shoulders! At least I have a chance now to make the business thrive.”

“We need to celebrate,” Juliet declares. “Drinks at Jimmy’s?”

“Sure,” I laugh. “Dad?”

“I have to get back to catch my flight,” he replies. “But you go have fun with your friends.”

I hug him tightly as he gets his things together. “Thanks for coming down,” I tell him again.

“Any time you need, I’ll be right here,” he promises.

“No intervention necessary?” I tease.

He chuckles. “I promise. I’m proud of you, sweetie. Your mom is too. You’re making a real home here,” he adds, looking around. “I know that’s always meant a lot to you.”

I walk him out, still overwhelmed with emotion. I’m so happy I managed to save the B&B, but when I catch sight of Ash outside on the sidewalk, that elation fades. I say my goodbyes to Dad, and wave him off in his rental car, then turn back to Ash.

I don’t know what to say to him, I just know I need to say something.

“Hey,” I approach softly. He turns, his expression blank and unreadable. “I just wanted to tell you, I’m sorry how all this turned out…” I trail off. I don’t know how to explain the regret mingling with relief in my bloodstream. “I mean, I wish it hadn’t been you.”

“But it was.” Ash arches an eyebrow at me, remote. “And like you said, it’s always personal.”

“I didn’t mean—” I start to protest, but he walks away without a backwards glance, leaving me alone on the sidewalk.

My heart falls.

I knew fighting him on the hotel would put an end to whatever was building between us, and I still can’t get my head around his decision to threaten the B&B in the first place, but still… I want to go back to how it was before all this mess started: just him and me, curled up in bed in the early morning sun.

Happy.

Free.

Except, even then, he had put this in motion, I remind myself. I shouldn’t feel guilty for protecting my dreams.

“Ready to go toast your victory?” Juliet links an arm through mine.

“Absolutely.” I force myself to look away from Ash’s figure, striding away from me. I turn back to what I do still have: a group of friends and supporters who stood by me and helped keep Rose Cottage in business. “First round’s on me!”

 

I stay out late at Jimmy’s, celebrating the temporary victory. So many people come over, telling me how they knew my grandmother, and how proud she would be to see me continuing on her legacy. It makes me feel at home, knowing that I’m still a part of the community she loved. She built something here with pure force of will, and it’s an honor to keep that family tradition alive.

As I walk back to the B&B, I remember the letter she wrote me, telling me to follow my heart. My life was so different then, back in New York City. I was so caught up in following the path I thought was right for me. I couldn’t see another version of life, but she did. She knew what I needed better than I did myself. And now here I am, right where she knew I’d belong.

I feel a wistful ache. It’s a clear night, the stars bright in the sky, and the sound of the waves lapping gently against the shore. The only thing that would make it better is if Nana was right here with me to share in the celebration and joy.

But maybe she is, somehow.

I’m comforted by the thought. Whenever I walk down these streets she knew so well, or pull down her old recipe books, I know there’s a part of her watching over me; a memory that lives on, in every satisfied guest or batch of famous cinnamon rolls. As I turn up the pathway to the house, and unlock the front door, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude that she brought me here—and that I can stay, continuing her legacy.

Then I open the door, and step straight into a torrent of cold water.

The house is completely flooded.