CHAPTER 2
Harper
Harper Brown
The Roasted Chestnut
I pick up the plastic clip-on lanyard, a noticeable upgrade from our usual sticker name tags, which we only ever use if we have visitors. Which, obviously, we do today!
We also have better snacks, better wine and a big barrel of nerves.
Not to be confused with my large basket of goodies.
I went with purple ribbons on this one, since that is the official color of the Canton brand.
I couldn’t get a hold of Janie, who is overseas somewhere, but I’m positive that’s who our new benefactor is.
Any moment now, a gorgeous dark blonde woman, one of the five Canton daughters, will walk in, smile and save us all.
I waddle my way over to the large tables, drowning in my huge coat, fluffy scarf, and big purse. Plus I have the giant basket tucked in one arm, a plastic cup of wine and lanyard now in the other. But I make it without dropping anything.
I set the gift on a table to the side and slide into one of the chairs. Ron (and his Evergreen Grill) are playing host tonight, since they have better food and beverage offerings for an evening meeting. He’s closed on Monday nights anyway. Most of us are these days.
But! That’s about to change!
Maybe?
The group around me is split. Only the business owners and residents with commercial property are at tonight’s meeting. Again, half are hopeful, half are pulling a Chicken Little, saying the stars are falling. Guess we’re about to see who is right.
I get up, take off my layers and quickly make a small plate of appetizers for myself, listening to the buzz around me.
“Remember, we are the ones with the leverage here,” Gary says.
“Leverage? Pft, what leverage? I literally had to move chairs because the one I first chose broke, Gar. Just busted under me and I’m not a small man!
I’m very petite!” Steven may have already had a couple cups of wine.
The mayor objects to the nickname, clearly, while Ron stands up to defend his establishment.
“I told you to check before you sat down, there’s two that have a wobble to them!”
“More than a wobble, I’d say!”
“Anyway, we may be a little, uh, worse for wear but we weren’t out clamoring for a buyer, they came to us. We’ll sit and listen to the presentation and see what we think. Just…” Gary puts both hands out and pats the air. “Just be cool.”
I almost snort. He needs to stop borrowing phrases from his teenage son.
“You’ve never been cool a day in your life and neither have any of us,” Shelly chuckles. Everyone laughs and piles on making fun of ourselves, except for Steven. He maintains he’s very cool.
“Did you double check your wifi?” I catch Miles ask Ron quietly. Ron grunts. Miles is not comforted by the sound. “Well, they’ll be here any minute.”
Ron gets up with a heavy sigh but it’s cut short as the front door to the Grill opens. I brace myself. I’ve seen the Cantons online for years. They’re not just glamorous or gorgeous. They have that kind of beauty that looks AI-brushed.
But instead we see a short, elderly woman.
Glamorous in her own right, though. Very Meryl Streep in that devil movie.
Sleek white hair, a kind, aging face with impeccable skin and subtle makeup.
She’s holding an old-timey briefcase and the kind of severe expression that makes me sit up straighter in my chair.
Like I’m about to be graded on my posture.
A large, younger man files in behind her, a huge Italian-looking...gangster? Scary. Possibly her bodyguard. So is it her then? This formidable little old lady is our savior?
She offers a polite smile to all of us as behind her a…
Wait.
What is he doing here? The jack wagon?
No.
Absolutely not.
It all clicks into place.
He’s friends with Benedict.
Janie told me—after she heard I snapped and called him names at the shop months ago—that he’s a Vanderwell. Real estate is what they do. Well, that and yell at poor, anxious teenagers working for less than minimum wage and call them names, demanding black coffee.
I exhale through my nostrils and clench my fist.
This is not my white knight.
The little old lady does, in fact, work with the devil.
And I bet he’s even wearing Prada.
“Oh boy, tell us what you really think,” Tyrone chuckles softly next to me. I turn and look at him. “You never could hide your feelings from that pretty face. Who needs words with an expression like that? What’d he do?”
I am not about to answer, but I’m saved by Gary anyway.
“Mr. Vanderwell! We’re so happy to have you, I hope Juniper Falls has given you a warm welcome.”
“It’s Aiden, please,” he says in his rich, deep voice. Grumpy. Grumpy voice.
“I’ll give him a warm welcome,” Shelly whispers.
“Shelly! He’s half your age!” Betty, her sister, who looks almost like a twin except her hair is a graying shade of brunette, whispers back.
Shelly smirks, “And?”
“Hi Aiden!” Steven practically swoons up at the front of the table. “We’re so glad to hear your presentation today!”
“Right, let’s get to it then,” Aiden replies, quickly scanning the room. His eyes snag on mine and his scowl deepens. I quickly look away and feel my cheeks burn. He deserved it, but I still can’t believe I snapped at a customer. Thank goodness he didn’t leave a review.
Tyrone lets out a low whistle and says, “Looks like the feeling is mutual.”
I don’t look up. I just sip my wine and will the man to look away.
It feels like it takes him an eternity to do so.
His attention moves to the blank wall where his assistants have created a projection?
I guess using their phones or something?
I know Ron doesn’t have a projector in here.
The wall is a huge screen now and the image quality is so amazing I can’t even see the dingy stucco behind it.
My insides coil. I can feel everyone around me tensing too, equal parts impressed, intimidated, hopeful and nervous. Maybe I should have some more wine.
The Vanderwell…logo? Family crest? Appears on the screen. The same name that is on hospitals and skyscrapers across the United States. Probably inked on documents in museums about the founding of this country.
And I yelled at him!
I move my hand and the Evil Lord’s eyes immediately track the motion.
Ok! Nope! No more wine for me. I’m not moving again. I’m frozen. I’ll die in this chair, hands in my lap. This is my life now.
“Right. Thank you, Mr. Mayor, everyone.” He stands at the end of the table by the wall as if this is his restaurant.
Already his town. Total ease, confidence.
Perfect suit, power stance, one hand tapping on his phone.
Like he does this all day every day. I suppose he does.
“I’ll get right to it. You all know I’ve a generous offer for your land, for much of the town.
Let me show you what I plan to do with it. ”
“Yeah, yeah, just jump ahead to the damn ski resort,” Carl grouses, pointing his big, grease stained finger at the wall. Go Carl! Tell Him! Carl is a big, gruff guy, exactly what you’d expect of the town’s lone mechanic, painter and go-to handyman. He takes no shit and right now, I love him.
“Carl!” Steven gasps.
Others join in, either agreeing or chastising.
“Now, now,” Gary tries.
Aiden holds up a hand, and the whole room stills. Just like that. Like freaking magic. Annoying magic.
“Quite right, Mr…?”
“Carl Yates. The Autoshop.”
“Mr. Yates. I do, in fact, want to invest in a resort here.” People start shifting and grumbling, and instead of talking over us, he just waits.
He shifts his phone in his hands, which make his biceps bulge under his tailored suit.
I wouldn’t expect a business man to have such big muscles but maybe he needs them in order to crush small towns.
He cocks his head and everyone quiets down immediately again.
C’mon guys, grow a backbone! …says the mute girl hiding behind her empty wine cup admiring a set of biceps.
I almost roll my eyes at myself.
“Some of you may know I’m a friend of Benedict Clark, which is how I found your town.
He and I discussed this at length, but the Clarks don’t deal in real estate.
I do. Yours is not the first little mountain town I’ve helped.
I’m sure you’re all in the red, praying your fall tourism saves you year after year and in recent years, it has not. ”
You could hear a pin land in here.
I know I’m not the only shop owner worrying about closing my doors.
And he clearly knows it, too. The man is well-informed.
“You know the Clarks?” Mr. Newman asks quietly.
Aiden goes on, “I do, school mates since we were boys. Ben and I want to see Juniper Falls survive. To pull in so much ski traffic, all winter, not just around Christmas, and spa visits in the warm months, so much so that you can relax. Beyond that. You can grow, evolve, thrive.”
Half the room bristles, half leans in. We’re like two weather fronts, all charged air. A storm could break out down the center of the table.
Good move saying Ben’s name. Bad move using the world evolve, Sir Bridgerton.
“If you’ll allow me,” Aiden goes on. I know he’s American but he doesn’t sound it. He sounds more like Ben, all proper and fancy. He taps around until the resort images start.
They are stunning. Truly. And we can see our mountains, a couple of our streets. It looks so real. Creepy AI wizardry probably.
Aiden goes on with images and plans, sensing his audience is now fully held captive.
He shows images of packed parking lots and nearby slopes covered in skiers.
He starts to rattle off the figures, taxes to the town, foot traffic per year, average revenue per tourist, on and on. A lot of numbers. Large ones.