Chapter Eleven
Graham
O rdinance number one,” Clark speaks toward the crowd assembled in the Town Hall meeting room.
Though Clark is the owner of Aesop’s Tavern, he is presiding over this eccentric town meeting. I was strongly advised by Rafe to put in an appearance at tonight’s event.
“You won’t regret it,” he informed me with a wink and a few more French sayings thrown in that I still don’t understand. “Plus, it’s good to show your face around town. Become part of the culture here so they don’t think you are a stuck-up city boy.”
So here I am. Clark stands at the front of the room behind a folding card table over which a crooked plastic tablecloth is thrown. The scene is a bit informal. He does have an official name plaque, though, and a gavel. So, color me impressed. If I hadn’t had the experience of living in a small town, I’m not sure I would believe these types of meetings actually exist in real life. Of course, I am familiar with the premise because of Gilmore Girls —which Lily made me promise I would watch (and I did) .
Right off the bat, I can see that, instead of a Taylor, this corner of New England has a Clark, who wears vests instead of sweaters and owns a tavern instead of a grocery store. He must be good at keeping his cool, though, because everyone keeps voting him in to the position of moderator.
Currently, I find myself squished beside Lily, who seems to have decided to torment me by plopping down on the empty chair to my right. The old part of me is delighted to be this close to her, while the new one is screaming to be cautious and back away as quickly as possible. The little wooden seats I worry might buckle under my weight aren’t helping my comfort levels either. Sparrow and Rafe are sitting together to my left.
I’m doing my best to concentrate on Clark’s booming voice. Meanwhile, I’m distracted by a game of bingo being played a few rows and diagonally ahead of us by a group of four seniors who have set up shop, complete with clipboards and dabbers. I’m trying to figure out how this isn’t being shut down immediately. They’re trying to quietly call out the letters and numbers, and it’s distracting.
“B12!” whispers an older woman I’ve never seen before.
“D42.”
“That’s how you do it!” I catch an old-school cabbage patch move while I attempt to tune them out and listen in to the main event.
Clark’s voice carries loudly into the crowd. “An anonymous Birch Borough resident proposes that Liam should not be able to use the lookout point near the bridge to film videos of his cat, A-cat-pella.”
“Hey! That’s his favorite spot!” Liam leaps up, his fist in the air. A hushed murmur passes over the room. The dramatic scene would be very inspiring if I didn’t know it was all for a cat.
“You should be in one of his videos,” Lily deadpans beside me.
“Is that a challenge?” I grit out with a grin despite my horror. No part of me wants to be in a video with a cat, but this woman isn’t shy about pushing my limits. She’s brilliant but brutal in the best of ways, and I know she’d relish watching me suffer on any social media platform with a feline, especially since she knows I love dogs.
“Oh, you bet your bottom dollar it’s a challenge,” Lily practically squeals with restrained delight.
I shake my head, but before I can get out a protest, Clark lifts his hand.
“All in favor,” he says.
No one raises a hand. In the brief time I’ve lived here, it is clear this town loves Liam and his cat too much to do anything that would hinder him from making the supposedly viral videos I have yet to see. I’m intrigued, though, and make a mental note to look up his account, especially since I’m going to need to ask him if I can guest star in one of his posts. Gladys told me that he might be starting a merch line soon.
“Next order of business,” Clark continues. “We’ve spotted a seal lingering near the river's edge for the past week. The rescue station for marine animals has been called. They are happy to report they believe the little one is doing well. Now, all we need to do is name her.”
“I’m sorry, what? How did we end up here from LA?” I mumble the words just loud enough for the seats around me to hear .
From beside me, Rafe just grins at my question and tips his shoulder as if to ask if I can believe how great this scene is. I feel as if I’ve entered a portal to another world. The individual with the gavel should definitely be examined—and the rest of the town too, for going along with it.
“All in favor of Carol?” Clark suggests.
A few hands lift about the space. I don’t know whether to be horrified or impressed that not only are people voting, but they already know the meeting agenda enough to have an opinion on the name they’re voting for.
“All in favor of Louise?”
A flurry of hands fly up, with the exception of mine. Before I can register what’s happening, Lily’s arm wraps around my sleeve. She lifts my hand high in the air.
“If you’re here, you have to vote,” she demands.
I refrain from rolling my eyes, but only just barely. Between the effect of her proximity on my head and the fact that I can now add voting for a wild seal’s name to my life experience, I’m waiting for a UFO sighting to be reported next.
Clark lifts both palms in the air in a swaying, conductor-of-a-symphony-orchestra motion. “Louise, it is! Oh, Louise and Clark, how grand!” he yells to the accompaniment of a few laughs and a whooping noise in the corner as he writes the name on a rolling chalkboard beside him. The chalk piece taps a staccato rhythm. I’m picturing all the ways this town would go viral if word of this got out. Birch Borough could pen a TV show with the cast of characters around me. I would make sure I managed the contract somehow, of course.
“It’s Lewis and Clark,” I reply under my breath. As I say the words, I lean back in the chair. My movement causes the seat piece to fly up, nearly knocking me backward. The pitch in the back has me at a strange angle that my spine is having a hard time adjusting to. That’s what I get for letting my all-too-literal side out in public.
“He should go exploring to find out,” Lily mouths in return. She takes a satisfying bite from a chocolate cupcake that she somehow snuck into Town Hall. She pulls a second one from a to-go box tucked beneath my seat and passes it to Grey from the bookstore, who is sitting in the row behind us.
“Honestly.” Clark directs the word sharply toward us, his alarmingly bushy eyebrows lifting at the horror that people are eating during his town meeting. Lily takes an extra-large bite of the cupcake just to throw him off and grins when he shifts his attention to me.
It’s ironic how deeply I fell for Lily, considering she is the opposite of me—usually slightly disheveled, always speaking her mind, fiery in the best of ways. She’s wild and free and always wears black.
I’m analytical, an overthinker, value my alone time (though Lily is welcome to intrude), and keep my true feelings close to my chest. But from the day we met in the movie theater, and she asked if I was British because I looked to her like a man she’d find walking across the English countryside, I knew it was love. As much as she used to drive me crazy, I know Lily saw me. As much as she teased me, she also grounded me. As much as she used her wit against my defenses, she helped me view the world differently. She made me a better man.
She’s still making me a better man, even though she doesn’t know she still affects me now. I may have been successful at my previous job in corporate law, but it wasn’t fulfilling. Before moving to Birch Borough, I knew a change was needed. While I won’t say my encounter with Lily was entirely to blame, I will say that I started to lose my passion for my work around the time we met. After our version of a meet-cute in LA, I realized I wasn’t living. I was getting a paycheck and beating my own record of winning cases and making investments, but I was alone. Everything felt . . . empty.
When I met Lily, that all shifted. A greater sense of purpose entered my life. I knew then the “why” behind all my decisions to be a better man than my father. It wasn’t only for me; it was so I could be the man she needed. The man she could depend on. Suddenly, the accolades and security associated with my job didn’t matter as much if I wasn’t happy. I felt like there had to be a way to make the world better while also improving the state of my inner world.
Even surrounded as I am now by this quirky town that makes my head spin, I wouldn’t trade that truth for anything.
Clark finally stops glaring at us and resumes the meeting. “Next up! Mrs. Fiore’s flowerbeds extend two feet too close to the public park, creeping beyond her property line. The powers that be are concerned that if we don’t address it immediately, others will begin to take advantage of violating our town’s bylaws. However, if we get rid of the flowers, that’s not only wasteful but is also downright irresponsible.” His bushy eyebrows lift in thought. “So, all in favor of keeping the flowerbeds in the event Mrs. Fiore continues to care for them, raise your hands. ”
The vast majority raise their hands. Again, I’m wondering if the next order of business is going to be about the price of canned goods going up ten cents at the store or the flag outside of the burger place blowing in people’s faces as they walk past.
“Now, let’s see, let’s see,” Clark continues, bending and staring intently at the notes before him on the folding card table. He doesn’t have a podium, which is making this judicial procession even more of a puzzle.
“I—for one—would like to have them vote on the lawnmower that starts every Saturday morning at eight o’clock,” I admit under my breath.
“Oh, quiet, you,” Lily hisses beside me in a muffled tone. A crinkling noise and the smell of chocolate tell me without looking at her that she’s not only opened a chocolate bar, but she’s also thoroughly enjoying it. “But you’re right. That is annoying,” she concedes.
I’m waiting for the next topic, unnerved by how quickly I have become riveted at the events unfolding tonight, when I see Clark’s eyes searching the room. They land on me.
“Ah, what a shame,” he says. “With Sparrow and Rafe’s wedding coming up,” he begins with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “another issue has come to light.”
I look at Rafe and Sparrow. Their brows are furrowed. I turn to Lily. Her mouth is hanging open, with her teeth marks evident in the mini candy bar hovering in front of her face.
“What in the . . .” she begins.
“He is looking at me, yes?” I mumble. I’m afraid to break eye contact with Clark’s stare. His head is bent forward, his eyes peeking over tiny metal-rimmed glasses .
“This is a bit delicate,” he says slowly, releasing a long sigh. “Our next order of business—submitted anonymously—is to vote on whether or not we’ll be enforcing Operation Run Mr. Winnings Out of Town . ”
“What?” I ask in a tone louder than usual and stand to my feet.
Out of my peripheral vision, I see the chocolate bar drop to the floor, an indication of Lily’s highest level of shock.
I turn to her, my face angling downward. “Did you do this?”
Her eyes lift slowly to mine with a vacant look.
“Lily, did you do this?” I repeat in a rush when she doesn’t answer.
“I didn’t,” she protests, shaking her head vehemently.
“Bingo!” the little group I almost forgot about yells without looking up.
Rafe is standing beside me now, energy crackling off him. He raises his voice. “Listen, I love this town, but what are you even talking about right now? Graham is one of us.”
“He is not one of us!” an older woman I barely remember seeing once at the small grocery store—or was it wandering through the bookstore?—shouts behind me. I’m so flustered I can’t even place her.
“Sorry, dearie,” she continues. “But you don’t hurt our girl and then expect us to rally around you. It’s just not possible, no matter how handsome you are.”
“Hurt your . . .?” I say, the words barely making a sound. Suddenly, I’m back in the courtroom, witnessing people taking the stand and becoming so overcome or shocked at what they were asked that the words wouldn’t come out.
“We’ve all seen the tension between you both. It’s shocking,” interjects a woman I know to be Mrs. Kipper, a former schoolteacher I met at the library while I was picking up a fresh stack of books for the month.
“I propose that he stays!” To my shock, Gladys yells her support for me, her voice ricocheting off the walls of the hall.
I’m certain that people who have made important decisions regarding this town and the nation’s history have met in this space. This is not one of those moments. I slump back into my seat, the shock settling in my limbs. It won’t matter if I complete all her challenges and win the bet with Lily if the town doesn’t support me being here. It hits me between the eyes—the reason it’s been harder to fit in despite how much I’ve wanted to . . . they think I broke her heart. They have no idea it was the other way around.
“It’s true that we’ve seen the tension between you two . . .” Clark says with a hint of disbelief.
Without a word, as if it’s supposed to magically solve my problems, Lily hands me a chocolate-caramel cupcake from the tiny box, pulling it from within in a way that is becoming very Mary Poppins -like. I take a bite, the sweet cake getting stuck at the back of my throat. It’s not the famous chocolate cake, but it’s close enough. If I’m getting run out of town, at least I can enjoy Lily’s baking skills one last time to soften the blow.
“He’s not leaving, Gladys,” Lily states.
I would’ve loved a more convincing argument made for me, but there you have it.
“He’s one of us,” Sparrow declares. When I meet her concerned gaze, which bounces between Lily and me, it’s clear that Lily finally told her about us. I would respect her for trying to defend me as her fiancé’s best friend, but I respect her even more for standing with me now.
“Graham is the best!” Rafe yells.
His tone tells me he is still in shock that this is happening, and I’m right there with him. I mean, could this be illegal? Yes. But is Birch Borough a small enough town to make me pay for it even if they really can’t (legally) get me out? For sure.
I understand their motivation. They probably think I moved here to come after her when, in actuality, I was trying to find something I had lost. To them, I’ve hurt someone they remember walking through town with chocolate on her face and picking flowers from their yards as a young girl. I’m the newcomer here.
But I can’t tell them the truth without hurting Lily. As the seconds tick by, my idea to move here just seems worse and worse.
Still, I feel a righteous indignation creeping up from inside. I get that they want to protect her. Heck, if a man did double-cross her, I’d run him out of town myself, law and order be darned. But I didn’t, and I don’t deserve this.
“Lily, I think it’s up to you,” Gladys speaks again.
“Wait—what?” Lily chokes out the words, wiping frosting from her lips with the back of her hand. She must’ve started eating a second cupcake.
“Graham. Does he stay, or does he go?” Clark asks, as if this is a real thing people can do—tell good, upstanding citizens to hit the road.
“I don’t think I can make that decision right now,” Lily says.
Her reply surprises me more than the expression on Grey’s face when I turn around to see if everyone is staring. They are. Everyone in the room is turned toward me, and I feel the weight of their glares. Is this the moment the people retaliate, and I’m left running from the room, chased down by pitchforks?
“You belong to this town, Lily,” Ollie, the sweet owner of the toy shop, says in front of me.
Once, Lily told me she had visited his shop since she was a little girl. Her first stuffed animal came from there. Ollie used to give her sparkly stickers that she could put on her lunch box. I think I saw a few of them stuck to a journal she was writing in once filled with recipes she was working on.
My attention goes back to Lily. She’s not making eye contact with me. Her shoulders are hunched. She’s shutting down more and more with each passing second because she knows that my future in Birch Borough does hinge on her.
I feel my shoulders sink. Rafe claps a hand on my back in the way only guy friends seem to do. As much as I usually love anything made by Lily, I’m still chewing the last bite of cupcake, my stomach revolting at the idea of everyone thinking I’m the one who broke someone’s heart. And not just anyone’s heart: Lily’s heart.
I will myself to breathe in and out, my eyes downcast to the crevices on the wooden floor. It was probably installed during the Founding era of American history. Murmurs and a gavel being used mix with my heartbeat and my racing mind. Everything is a blur, but I don’t know what I expected. I guess a woman who ran from a relationship with me wouldn’t also defend me. Makes sense.
“George, I . . .” Lily says quietly.
I refuse to look at her. My jaw works, calculating how many seconds it would take for me to cross the room and get out of here. I’m just about to bolt when Lily’s arm touches mine. She leaps out of her seat.
“Stop!” she yells. “That’s enough. I love you all, but you don’t need to defend me like this. Drop your theoretical weapons.” She takes a deep breath. “He didn’t break my heart.”
Everyone freezes; the only sound is the creak of the heater as it cranks somewhat warm air through the grates in the floor.
“He didn’t break my heart,” she says again, the last syllable vanishing in the air as soon as it’s spoken.
My lungs allow full breaths again. I swallow, my attention shifting fully to Lily. I can’t quite look up at her. My pride won’t allow it, but I can make out the determined set of her shoulders and her wide-legged stance. Sparrow gasps, and Rafe puts his arm around her, his other hand gripping my shoulder in support. This is not how I wanted the truth to come out, and he knows it. But I’m curious to know how much of a revelation she’ll allow.
“Then what—” Clark begins.
Annoyed, Lily makes a noise that sounds like a buzzer. Her hand lifts in a signal for Stop, don’t cross the street.
“But your chemistry . . .” Mrs. Fiore laments.
“His hands!” a woman’s voice yells from the edge of the gathering, and I have no idea how her input could be construed as positive or negative.
The buzzer noise resounds from Lily one more time as she directs her open palm toward whoever is coming at her with their reasoning.
It turns out that she is a superhero with the power to stop people in their tracks. I wouldn’t be shocked if fire started coming out of her hands and flaming in whichever direction she finds opposition.
“But the way he looks at you . . .” Grey says behind us.
Lily doesn’t stop her, even though I know she hears Grey, as it’s clear her words are more observation than a rebuttal. She continues, “Listen here, all of you, before I withhold baked goods and decide not to make any pains au chocolat tomorrow.” There’s a collective gasp about the space. “It’s not your business, but I know you love me. So, leave Graham out of it, and trust me when I say . . . he is a good man.” The last part was significantly softer but still audible.
The murmurings of the crowd carry through the air before the gavel rings out again.
“Well, with that settled, this meeting is adjourned. See you next month!” Clark shouts, waving his hands toward the door.
At that, everyone files out like nothing about this whole evening was noteworthy. I’m still stuck on Lily defending me while speaking of the one dream I told her I had for my life when we first met. She remembered.
“You okay, man?” Rafe asks. “That was wild.”
“I’ve never seen that happen before in my whole life,” Sparrow states with a hint of shock still lacing her words.
Rafe stands. He leans against the chair in front of us, facing me diagonally. “Do you want us to stay with you for a bit? We could go to the tavern?”
I shake my head. Words are still a bit of a problem for me right now.
“Call me if you need me, okay?” Rafe insists .
Once again, I nod. Because that is all I can manage right now.
With another shoulder clap, Sparrow and Rafe extend their goodbyes before making their way toward the door. I hear apologies and, “Welcome to Birch Borough,” swirling around me, even though I’ve already been living here for months.
Lily isn’t moving. Her legs stretch in front of her, the tips of her toes pointing toward the ceiling. She is collapsed back like her defense of me took all her energy. It probably did.
“Thank you,” I manage without fully looking at her. My dimming resolve and the emotion of it all are too much for me to also feel compelled to give in to my need to care for her.
“If anyone should be run out of this town based on the evidence presented tonight, you know it should be me. You don’t want me to explain, and you don’t want to do this again, but . . .”
She stands abruptly and starts to gather her purse and the pastry box. The box has a thumb length of chocolate icing smeared across the top, no doubt from her rushing to put the cupcakes into the box. For some reason, this makes me grin, even when I know I shouldn’t.
“You’re a good man, George. You always were.” And with the second confession she’s given me this week, Lily vanishes into the night, leaving me sitting with the half-eaten cupcake still in my hand and a trail of crumbs beside me.