Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
ZOEY
T he space is bursting with loud chatter when I arrive, the buzzing sound reverberating against the bare walls.
I weave my way through the crowd. At the back of the room, pastries and half-full pitchers of lemonade are displayed on a long table. As I burrow deeper, furtive glances shift in my direction, and whispers grow louder, more insistent.
“Are you sure you heard right?”
“Her? Really?”
“Not again.”
I shut it all out, focusing solely on what I need to do tonight. This is not the time to spiral over things I can’t control.
Near the front, I spot the mayor—with the same gray hair from his headshot on the town’s website—speaking with another man.
“Mr. Mayor,” I say when I get to him. “Zoey Delacroix.” Shoulders pulled back, I extend a hand. “Nice to officially meet you.”
He studies me, not a single flicker of expression betraying his thoughts.
For a second, I worry my judgment was off and tonight’s outfit choice was a mistake.
I kept it rather professional but still left the heels behind, opting for a silk blouse tucked in fitted black pants and leather ankle boots.
My hair is twisted and held in place with a clip, and I went for a very natural makeup style.
It’s an approachable look, right? I really toned it down.
Unease threads through me as the silence stretches. I’m racking my brain for a way to stray away from the awkwardness when he breaks into a wide smile and finally shakes my hand.
“Robert Denison. But everybody calls me Rob. Welcome, Ms.Delacroix. Your father and I worked together a few years back. But then, everything went down and—”
He closes his mouth, leaving the rest of his sentence hanging.
That unease blossoms into a hint of discomfort. What went down?
Whatever it was, I push the thought aside. “Call me Zoey, please.” I pause, my mind backtracking on his words. “Wait. How did you know about my dad? I didn’t mention—we don’t have the same last name. I don’t—”
He pats my arm. “It’s a small town. Information travels fast.”
My stomach lurches. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck . When did it even get out ? At what—
Matt. It has to be him. After my dad called the other day, his whole attitude changed. I’m pretty sure he was about to ask me out, and then… he dropped his scissors just as my phone rang. Did he see his name on my screen? Did he overhear the conversation?
Fuck.
Visibly tired of watching me gape, Rob starts to turn back to the man he was speaking to when I interrupted. But I clear my throat, stopping him, and wipe my sweaty hands on my pants. I have one shot at this.
“I’ve read the agenda for tonight, and I’d like to submit a project for the land that’s up for sale. I wonder if you’ll be kind enough to give me the floor for a few minutes.”
He frowns. “The land isn’t open for submission yet, and the decision won’t be made before the next meeting.” He pauses, scrutinizing me with narrowed eyes. Then, voice lowered, he asks, “What kind of project are we talking about?”
I can smell interest when I see it. Rob worked with my dad till the very end. That alone tells me he might not be as close-minded as most of his constituents. If I play this right, I can sway him in my favor.
“A hotel.”
His eyes widen in alarm.
Dammit. “ Not your conventional hotel,” I rush to add.
Poor guy must have really gone through the wringer with that failed deal.
“I’m not talking about a resort or anything luxurious, and I’m not asking for you to endorse my project. Let me present my case. That’s all I want. If people don’t like the proposal, they’ll be free to express it, and we can go from there.”
He presses his lips together and hums. Eventually, he pushes a hand through his gray hair and says, “People won’t be happy about this.”
I shrug. “I don’t need them to be. What I’m offering is working. I would rather avoid protests, but as long as you’re on board, that’s what matters.”
He looks at the pile of documents next to him. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
What does that mean?
I clear my throat again and lift my chin. “I only ask for a chance to speak, that’s all.”
Rob holds my gaze for a long moment. Finally, he sighs. “Okay. I’ll go over the testament, and you can take it from there.”
“Thank you.”
On my way to an empty seat, a tall, broad frame appears in the doorway at the back of the room.
When I meet Matt’s eyes, my breath hitches. His jaw locks, his expression dripping with hostility.
Well, that confirms my suspicion. It’s a good thing he wasn’t there when I stopped by this morning, then. If he had looked at me like that while it was just the two of us, I would have lost it.
Disappointment rises up inside me. Why should I care what he thinks anyway? I shouldn’t , and yet I freaking do, and I don’t know why. It’s making this thing ten times more complicated than it needs to be.
It was one fuck, Zoey , my brain screams at me.
But it was such a good one . That’s definitely not my brain talking.
Matt looks away first. With a shake of his head, he lumbers to a chair in the back of the room and sits, his leg sticking out in the aisle.
Next to him, a teenage girl wearing headphones is deeply focused on the notebook she’s drawing in.
On her right, Lola leans over to the man I saw at the flower shop this morning.
I take a seat and flip through my notes, barely registering the words I’ve jotted down.
A dull ache prickles in my chest as I wait for the meeting to start, and I absently rub at the tight spot.
I’ve given a lot of presentations in my career.
In front of investors, CEOs, and industry titans.
But somehow, this one feels monumental. Like a turning point. What if I fail? What happens then?
You don’t have a choice. You don’t have the first clue what you’d do with your life if you weren’t Daddy’s little helper.
I let out a bitter chuckle. Mom was smart to get out while she could. Now what’s left for me to do? Start from scratch? And go where? Do what? I’m trapped as long as my father is still around.
“If you’d all take a seat, we’ll get started,” Rob says, the mic releasing an ear-piercing squeal.
I cover my ears, and so do just about all the people around me.
“Sorry about that, folks,” he continues. “The purpose of tonight’s town hall is to discuss the testament of our beloved Pine Falls resident, Emile Roland, who served this town as its postman for almost fifty years.”
There are a few sniffles, some mumbles. The crowd has mixed feelings about him, I see. Maybe I can use that tidbit to my advantage.
“Emile, as peculiar as he was, left the town with a parting gift.” Rob places his glasses on his nose and reads from the document in front of him.
“It is no secret that I loved my town very much. I may have pissed off at least half of you, but everything I did was with Pine Falls in mind. Except when I dumped your mail in the shredder, Marty. You deserved every bit of it, you fucking old bastard.”
A burst of laughter threatens to escape me. I clamp a hand over my mouth.
“Hum…” Rob says. “Sorry about that, Marty.”
The old man with a cane who sits two rows in front of me scoffs and flips the mayor off.
“Whoa. Okay, Marty. These aren’t my words.
” Rob tilts his chin down again, scanning the paper, his lips moving as he goes through it.
“Okay, folks.” He sets his glasses on the table, then links his fingers on top of the testament.
“His wishes are fairly straightforward. Our dear Emile is leaving his land to the town, on the condition that we use it for the common good of Pine Falls. A proposal must be presented to the town, and the one that receives a majority vote will be approved.”
Rumblings erupt all over the room.
A majority vote ? That wasn’t part of the plan. At all.
I wanted the residents’ approval, yes, but I didn’t think I’d need their actual approval to secure the land. I figured I’d work my magic and get people on board with the concept of the project. But I fully intended to go forward with it regardless of their blessings.
Fuck. Now that they seem to know who my father is, how am I gonna convince these people that I’m not here to build a disgusting concrete hotel for billionaires?
That I’d rather offer a full experience for adventurous tourists while maintaining the charm of this picturesque town?
That I want to do it with the help of the local businesses?
“Please, everyone, let’s calm down,” Rob says into the mic.
The room quiets slowly, and people return to their seats. In my periphery, Matt is up, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes on me.
I dart mine to my lap.
“I’m sure we’ll find something we can all agree on in time. Speaking of, we have a guest with us tonight who’s ready to present the first idea for the lot. Zoey?”
Rob moves away from the podium.
As I stand, whispers grow and carry me to the stage as the weight of the stares settles heavily on me.
Matt, still leaning against the wall, is watching me intently as I step up behind the podium and square my shoulders with a shuddering breath. I tune him out, pushing him out of my mind. I’ve done this a million times. I could do it in my sleep.
“Thank you, Rob.” I nod to the mayor. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Zoey Delacroix, and I couldn’t be more excited to be with you tonight.”
I offer the crowd a broad smile, but I’m met with nothing but cold, dead silence. Okay, it’s fine. They need a minute to warm up. I get it.
In the front row, Rosie leans forward, giving me all her attention. Her brows pinch together, as if she’s trying to figure out what I’m doing up here, addressing them.