Chapter Thirty-One
Alicia
“I’m being completely shut out here,” my firm’s Michigan lawyer, Jamison, said through the phone pressed to my ear.
I looked up at my kitchen ceiling; wheat stalks were etched into the frosted light fixture from the fifties. My jaw was too tight, but I couldn’t convince it to relax. Through clenched teeth, I said, “So, it’s signatures or bust?”
“And fast. I don’t know what kind of deals are being made, but almost everyone I had on board to put the property to public auction has flipped.” He sighed. “They won’t even schedule a meeting with me.”
If not for spending most of my nights with Remi, this week had been shitty.
That damn party was all anyone wanted to talk about.
I’d bring up the wetlands, and then drama from the weekend would become the subject of conversation.
Everyone throwing out the same questions and speculations as everyone else.
“What did Olivia mean about sex not getting better?” “Where did Nora go?” “Could you believe Brooks?” And those were just the speculations about people I actually knew.
It was so annoying.
Muffled sounds of a Counting Crows album carried through the wall dividing my place with Remi’s.
An album I knew by heart because it was Remi’s favorite.
He listened to it when he felt pensive and needed comfort.
What was he thinking about? Was it me? He was on my mind like a patch of earth that had been worn away by a thousand footfalls.
It wasn’t a path intended to be there, but it always followed the same twists and turns until he was my destination.
I needed to stop wondering about him and focus on my job.
Time with him was . . . so good. Terrifyingly good.
He made me feel less alone as all the work I was doing came to a halt—falling apart into so many pieces.
I couldn’t find these last few signatures, only people who had already signed.
Every night, he came back with a few more names on the petition he was circling around, and I’d combine it with mine. It was helping, just not fast enough.
Every night I found myself wrapped in his arms, soothed by his touch, and comforted by his words.
I needed to get this job done. At least if I was able to force the emergency vote, I could postpone going home for a few more weeks to shift gears and drum up support.
An excuse to stay here longer. To save this land where so many species called home.
To stay with Remi.
To have more time to figure out exactly what was going on between us, because it wasn’t just sex. But could we really be more? He’d said for the right person, he’d move. Did he actually mean that? Could I be the right person again?
Then there was the strange settling in feeling, like I could stay here. My job was on location a couple weeks out of the year, and everything else I could do remotely.
If there was a way to a future with Remi, it’d probably be less of a disruption for me to stay.
Was I absolutely unhinged for even wondering any of this?
Was there anything more unhinged than love?
“How’s progress going on your end?” Jamison asked.
I groaned. “Slower this week.”
“We need public outcry. We need those signatures, and the emergency vote—”
“Are you just giving up at the capitol?” I demanded.
“No.” His deep breath carried through the speaker. “I just want to prepare you. I was appealing to these politicians as individuals, so if they’ve been swayed. I’ve got very little else.”
“I’ll get the signatures,” I promised. “I’ve got a social event tonight that could make a difference.”
“Good.”
“Is there anything else?” Finding Furgie curled into the corner of the sofa, I scratched the top of her head goodbye.
“Uh . . .” It was uncharacteristic for Jamison to sound unsure, and I waited for whatever he was going to say next. “Have you talked to Sadie?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, why?”
“I’m having a hard time getting a hold of her.”
“No, everything I’ve sent her has gotten a timely response.”
“Gotcha. I’ll check again.”
We hung up, and I felt a combination of protectiveness and guilt. Because I really wanted to tell him to leave Sadie alone. But also, I hadn’t told her yet about things between me and Remi. And it’d been a week. She and I had talked.
She was going to be so pissed at me.
The music went silent on the other side of the wall. I considered for a moment if I had enough time to knock on his door and maybe make out for a bit. Which was alarming, because I had just given myself a pep talk about getting my head into my work.
Instead, I grabbed a couple of snacks from my kitchen and let Furgie out to go to the bathroom. It felt a little weird not to text Remi that I was leaving, but we didn’t live together and we weren’t dating, right?
Ignoring that last thought, I jogged out to my car.
It wasn’t a far drive. The sun was setting, but it was dark enough that the streetlights were lit.
Euchre club was being held at a woman named Ginny’s house.
I parked in the elementary school’s parking lot across the street and grabbed the tray of cookies I’d ordered from the local bakery, Bake This Way.
Through the door, I could hear women talking and laughing. I raised my hand to knock, then let it fall. My energy was all off. I needed this night to be a huge success.
Hyping myself up, I plastered a smile on my face and knocked.
A woman with short white hair answered the door. With a wide welcoming smile, she said, “You must be Alicia. I was wondering who’d be knocking on the door, most everyone just walks on in like they were all raised by wolves.”
My smile felt more genuine. “I am Alicia. Are you Ginny?” I asked.
“That’s me, sweetheart. Come on in out of that cold.”
“Thank you so much for having me.”
“The pleasure is mine! Especially, when you’re carrying all of those cookies—that snickerdoodle might as well have my name on it.”
“We could set these down in the kitchen and share them, or we could hide them in your closet and eat them ourselves.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “Tempting, but I get hangovers from too much sugar these days. I wouldn’t be able to move tomorrow.”
“I guess we’ll have to share them then.”
“Not that snickerdoodle, though.”
“Nope. That one’s yours.”
She led me through the hallway lined in family photos that all looked about ten years old. As we neared the kitchen the voices grew louder.
Taking the tray from me, Ginny called over the noise, “Ladies, this is Alicia.”
I spotted Deb Creger and Mrs. Simons from the library right away, as well as Nora. But she seemed to be the only other woman our age there. Everyone else was closer to my parents’ ages.
Waving a hand, I returned the group’s greeting. “Hello! I’ve been warned that you are ruthless euchre players, but I promise to hold my own.”
“We’ll go easy on you if you tell us about Remi,” a woman with thick black eyeliner yelled.
I’d been expecting a comment, especially after he’d warned me, but I hadn’t expected it so soon in the night—or so publicly. All of the blood rushed to my face, and I struggled to keep my smile while wishing my complexion didn’t go bright red when I was embarrassed.
You cannot fail tonight, I coached myself. But a charming, lighthearted response was not coming. Instead all I could think was, He dicked me down real good last night.
I glanced back at Nora, not sure if she knew anything about me and Remi. We weren’t exactly going anywhere together. Were we public? Or was this a secret fling between me and, let’s face it, the love of my life?
“Why haven’t you ever offered that to me, Trish?” Nora joked. “I know Rem, I’ll spill to win a hand here or there.”
I didn’t know what deity I invoked to bless Nora and any of her potential offsprings, but I hoped they heard me. As far as I was concerned, she was St. Nora of Grand Ridge, patron saint of havin’ a bitch’s back.
The playing began, Nora and I were teamed up and the first to be eliminated. The whole game took half as long as any game I’d ever played before. It was brutal. I would not be telling Remi that he had been right.
We grabbed plates of snacks and sat on the sofa to watch everyone else.
“Is it always like this for you?” I asked.
She paused with a chocolate chip cookie halfway to her mouth. “Oh yeah, I’ve never made it to a second round. But while my grandma is out of town I come so I can pass on all of the news.”
I snorted. “How is Stella?” I asked, recalling her name from last weekend.
“She’s . . . a lot, but she’s great. She’ll be home sometime in April, so you’ll probably meet her.”
My stomach dropped. “It’s kinda looking like I don’t have that long.”
A line pressed between her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
There was no reason for me to hide how poorly everything was going, and some urgency might help undecided people take action. After I’d finished telling her everything, Nora stared into space for a few seconds. I picked up snippets of conversations around us, my brain not processing any of them.
“How many more signatures do you need to get an emergency vote?” she asked.
“Maybe a hundred, which in terms of signatures isn’t a lot but . . .”
“There aren’t a ton of residents,” she completed my thought. “You have the petition with you now?”
“Of course, I’m just waiting for the right time to pull it out.”
She held her hand palm up. “Let’s have it.”
With some hesitation, I pulled the clipboard with the thousands of signatures I’d already collected from my bag.
Nora took it from me, standing, and spoke over the sounds around us. “Excuse me”—she extended the clipboard over her head—“you all know why Alicia’s here, right?”
Most everyone nodded.
“Good.” She scanned the room, looking like a war commander about to rally the troops for battle. “Ladies, we’ve got some wrongs to right.”
Havin’. A. Bitch’s. Back.
By the time I left Ginny’s, I had a few more signatures. But more importantly a few more people committed to my cause. And hope, a little more fucking hope.