Chapter 8 #2
I sat up taller and squared my shoulders to the front of the room. My jaw tightened. I didn’t like how Asher was talking to Ali. He sounded defensive and condescending. That was not like him.
“Oh yes, of course. I am sure you have.” She paused.
Dejected. Then regrouped. “Yes, obviously, you have done a wonderful job preserving Lakeside. But I know this company. They won’t let up.
They have a team of lawyers and strategists.
They’re bullies who don’t fight fair. Chances are whatever you have planned, they already have a counterattack prepared. It can get ugly. It will get ugly.”
“You make it sound like it’s a battle we’ve already lost,” Asher said.
“In their minds? Yes. That’s true. They think you’re just a bunch of townies who don’t know any better.
Cary Glenn doesn’t like to lose. He’s ruthless and domineering.
He probably doesn’t even know where Lakeside is.
He sees this town in terms of profit gains.
And he loves the fight. Expects to win. His team has counterresponses for almost every conceivable form of resistance from their target. ”
“We can’t let them get away with this!” came a shout from the back.
This did sound serious. I’d dismissed the letter when I received it, assuming we’d address it just like we had in the past. We, as a unified front, had rejected outside interests repeatedly.
Most companies seemed to understand that if the community didn’t want the kind of changes they envisioned, then it was a losing battle.
But GlennGlobal sounded more aggressive.
Less inclined to care what the town wanted or thought.
“Absolutely! They will not get away with this!” Asher projected into his mic. I could tell he was getting fired up. Good. That meant he was listening to Ali.
But I knew Lakeside.
We’re a typical small town. Limited resources. Slow to respond.
I stood up and strolled toward the central microphone where Ali was standing.
Up until this point, my participation in these meetings had been as an observer with perhaps an announcement here or there about free clinic days for strays or fundraising for our wild gardens initiative.
But here. Now. I felt moved to interject.
Our town needed saving. Or maybe I just wanted to be close to Ali in this moment and saw this as my opportunity.
Either way, I was moving toward the microphone to speak.
I gestured with a point and shrug toward Ali, asking her if I could hop on the mic. Another thing I never did, speak into the mic. Like everyone else, I would stand at my seat and project my voice.
She nodded and stepped to the side. She was close enough I caught the scent of her shampoo. Lavender with a hint of lemon . . . no . . . bergamot.
I cleared my throat and my thoughts before beginning.
“I wonder, does this company have any weaknesses that you know of, Ali?” I asked, looking right at her.
She exhaled slowly. I stepped aside from the mic and she leaned in. She held my gaze, a small, steady smile playing at her mouth. More relaxed now. Like my being here offered her room to breathe. Realizing that did something to me.
“That’s a great question, Jake, and just the kind of thinking this town needs if we don’t want them to win. I do have some ideas.”
There was a conspiratorial edge to her grin. Like she saw me in a room full of people and was glad I was standing beside her.
“Yes, good question, Jake,” Asher cut in. “I think we as a board need to address this formally at our meeting next week. Thank you, Ali, for offering the out-of-towners’ perspective.”
Ali flinched.
A low, instinctive growl rose in my throat. I swallowed it and leveled a hard look at Asher.
Misha shot to his feet and slipped in behind us, leaning between our shoulders to reach the mic.
“You’re making a mistake if you allow this to get away from you,” he said. “You need to move now. Ali knows what she’s talking about. She may be an out-of-towner, as you called her, but she is brilliant and you could learn a thing or two.”
Asher sighed, looking every bit the overworked public servant. “My apologies. What are you proposing, Ali?”
Ali’s lips parted. For the first time all night, uncertainty flickered across her face. She looked at Misha, Help written plainly in her eyes.
She’d only just learned of the letters. Of course she didn’t have a fully formed plan ready to deploy.
Misha placed his hand on her shoulder—a gesture of reassurance—as he turned back to the mic.
“She is proposing,” he said, dragging it out like turning over an engine, “an . . . opportunity. To present in full next week. A risk analysis. Strategic recommendations.” He nodded toward Ali, who nodded back.
“I see. But you must understand our hesitation, Mikhail. She is in fact a”—Asher caught the warning glare I sent his way and adjusted—“newcomer. How do we know her interests align with ours? She could be a GlennGlobal plant for all we know.”
Even I had to let that land.
It wasn’t an unreasonable concern. She and Misha had worked for GlennGlobal. And recently.
Ali leaned in toward the mic. “I—ah—” The crowd quieted.
“I can understand your concern. If I were in your seat, I would have the same questions. But I didn’t come here with a job.
Or a mission. Or a hidden agenda. I have no backing.
Other than Misha here—who just arrived today and is a wonderful bestie—I’m on my own. ”
A flicker of something crossed her face before she steadied herself.
“I’m nothing to GlennGlobal. I don’t owe them loyalty.”
She lifted her chin.
“What I have is knowledge. I worked there. I know how they operate. I know their pressure points. Which promises collapse under scrutiny.” A faint, humorless breath of a laugh. “That insight doesn’t make me loyal to them. It makes me useful. To you.”
Silence stretched across the pavilion.
“I can work with her.”
The words were out before I could weigh them. Instinct not strategy. The same pull I felt whenever Ali was concerned.
“I’ll serve as liaison,” I continued. “I trust her. I believe she’ll do a good job.”
Her eyes met mine.
Gratitude. Relief.
It felt like winning something I didn’t know I was competing for.
“Hmm . . .” Asher covered his mic and leaned down one side of the banquet table.
Then the other. Seeking nods of approval from his fellow trustees.
Then he sat back and straightened. “Please have a plan ready for presentation at the village board meeting next week. We are now just about out of time. The Cub Scouts will need to get their den meeting started here in just a few minutes.” A group of boys in tan shirts with bandanas around their necks had started clustering in the back of the room.
It was the signal to close out the meeting.
A few final announcements were shared, and the meeting was adjourned.
The chairs were already being stacked on the cart to push into the closet.
Throughout the room, voices were blending as tensions began to unwind. Ali let out a breath she was holding, and her shoulders dropped an inch. A small smile stretched across her lips.
“You okay?” I asked.
“That was a lot. But yes. I’m good. I hope I didn’t overshare.”
She gripped the back of a chair that hadn’t yet been folded for storage like it was anchoring her. I wished I could pull her into me. I was much steadier than a collapsible banquet chair.
“I think it was good. You handled it well. Clear. Honest.” I hoped my words would at least do for her what I couldn’t physically.
She searched my face like she needed to make sure I wasn’t saying it out of politeness. Like I meant it. I did.
It seemed to settle something between us. Alignment. We were now aligned. I hoped in more ways than just in the interest of saving Lakeside, but for now that would do.
But what exactly did I just sign up for? The question tripped me like an unseen lift in the sidewalk. “Now that that’s settled, please tell me you really do have some ideas.”
“I do, actually,” she said, her tone shifting lighter. Just like I somehow knew when she needed me to step up by her side, she knew when to add levity.
“Oh. Okay. Great.” I exhaled, relieved. “I look forward to hearing them.”
“Are you surprised? You sound surprised, Dr. Elliot.”
“It just feels daunting is all. Where to begin . . . It’s a big deal.” I cupped the back of my neck and rubbed up my hairline. It was a habit. To ease myself out of a clenched state.
“Oh, Jake, this will be a piece of cake. Working with your captors to draft demands during a hostage situation in Rio de Janeiro . . . now that was daunting.”
That snapped me upright. “Wait, what? You were a hostage in Brazil?”
“Me and about eighteen others.” She shrugged, then leaned in like she was parting a curtain.
“The guy was desperate. His wife was so sick. He needed money for her treatment. Planned to rob everyone on the bus. Someone flagged the police officer passing and it spiraled. I helped him draft demands for a peaceful solution,” she explained.
She leaned back. Curtain closed.
“It was scary for about five minutes. Then I realized the gun was fake and he just needed to vent.”
That stopped me in my tracks.
“That sounds really traumatic. I don’t remember hearing about a hostage situation. When was this?”
“They don’t broadcast stuff like that here. I mean, it was all over the news in Rio, but honestly I’m not even sure the rest of the country even heard about it. Thankfully, not even my father knows about that one. That kind of stuff happens all the time in Brazil. Have you ever been?”
“What are we talking about?” Misha interrupted.
“I was just telling Jake that deterring GlennGlobal will be a breeze,” she said.
“Oh please. This is nothing compared to those checkpoints in Johannesburg!” Misha added.
“Oh, right! The checkpoints.” She turned toward me. “Now those were real guns.”
That explained absolutely nothing.
What kind of life had she lived?
I placed my hands on both their shoulders. Steadying the moment. “Just to clarify—your strategy for Lakeside doesn’t involve firearms. Real or fake, right?”
They both laughed.
“Of course not, Jake,” she said. “My weapons of choice are quick wit and flirtatious charm. Works every time.”
In less than five minutes, we had gone from civic tension to international hostage crisis.
My head was spinning.
Ali and Misha, however, seemed completely unfazed as they started toward the exit.
“See you at the Tavern,” she called over her shoulder with a lazy wave.
Was she trying to throw me off-balance? Was this her version of flirting?
Her energy didn’t unsettle me. Didn’t overwhelm me.
That was new.
It was chaotic. Intriguing. A little bewildering.
But instead of making me want to step back, it made me want to lean in.
“Yeah,” I managed. “See you there.”
“You’re smitten.” A voice came up behind me and broke my trance.
“Smitten? I don’t think that word has been used in decades, Marjorie.” She was rummaging through her bag getting ready to follow the rest of the town out the door. “I don’t know about smitten, but I do find myself wondering if she is for real, you know?”
“Oh, she’s real,” Marjorie said. “She’s so much like Libby.
You didn’t get to know her before her memory deteriorated.
Trust me when I tell you she may not have been speeding around the globe, but Libby had her own adventures that would leave your head spinning.
” She sighed as if remembering. “I think it’s their compassion.
They connect with people. All sorts of people.
And they’re fearless. It’s a special combination.
” She shrugged before explaining, “I met Ali and her sidekick, Misha earlier today at the Tavern. I think they’re just what this town needs. ”
I huffed a laugh. “Well. Her short stint here is sure to be boring in comparison to the rest of her life,” I said reminding myself that Ali doesn’t plan to stay here.
“Or like Libby she’ll find that this place is more magical than any of those others and she can let herself take root here.” Marjorie’s voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper.
“I don’t think a woman like that sets down roots in places like this and finds happiness,” I said wondering if we were still talking about the town. In my head, I might have meant me.
“One never knows,” she added with a sing-song tone. “Even wildflowers set down roots somewhere. See you at the Tavern, Jake,” she added with a wave.