Chapter 6 #2
“No, thank you. Like you said, too many know my stories, good one and jail-worthy ones.” Chelsey turned to face him. “And a lot of them could be used for blackmail.”
“Absolutely. I’ve been waiting seven years for the right moment.” Chelsey’s face flushed and she glanced away and studied the crowds mingling.
The number landed between them, soft but solid.
Seven years.
Taylor straightened a little. “Yeah…about that.”
Chelsey’s fingers tightened around her cup. “Yeah.” Her voice barely above a whisper. Did she want to talk about those years?
A breeze stirred the leaves above them, dappling sunlight across the bench. Somewhere nearby, a kid shrieked with delight on the giant slide. The silence weighed heavy between them.
Taylor rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve replayed it more times than I’d like to admit. The leaving. How I…didn’t handle it.”
Chelsey let out a quiet breath. “That’s one way to phrase it.”
“I know.” He gave a small, humorless huff. “It was a coward move.”
“Hey, Ms. Hooper.”
Three energetic girls with sashes that read Little Miss on them bounced over to their bench. Chelsey asked what they were up to, and they regaled her with the events of the day that only princesses would understand.
Taylor watched Chelsey ask all the right questions and laugh in all the right spots. When would he get a chance to apologize again? He’d have the OSHA list finished by tomorrow, then what?
After the Little Miss trio left, Chelsey pushed off the bench. “Let’s get that funnel cake now.”
From the set of her shoulders, Chelsey was done with the previous conversation.
“Great idea.” Taylor hoped he’d get another chance to talk with her before he flew out.
TAYLOR LEFT THE rental car with the country club valet and headed inside.
“Hey, Taylor. Over here, bud.” Taylor’s dad waved him over to their table.
“Hello, Mr. Mayor.”
“Dad to you.” He stood and wrapped Taylor in a hug.
“I thought you and Mom were going out of town today?”
“We decided to go Sunday. Tomorrow’s the golf tournament, so I can’t miss that. I wanted to wrap up our business today if possible.”
“Sounds perfect. I’m starving.”
Dad put a beefy hand on Taylor’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you.”
“You’re buying, right?” Taylor took a seat next to his dad.
Dad laughed then lowered his voice. “The good citizens of Juniper are buying lunch for the architect who is helping us figure out the most cost-effective way to build up downtown.” He folded and refolded his napkin before placing it back on his lap.
A plate was already in front of Dad with a half-eaten sandwich and fries. His dad usually went golfing early to beat the heat then had breakfast with his buddies. Today must've been something special since they were eating much later.
“I took the liberty of ordering a raspberry sweet roll to start you off.” Dad pointed to a plate set in the middle of the table. “With a glass of ice-cold milk, of course.”
“You know me too well.” Taylor picked up the warm roll and took a big bite of sweetness and raspberries. He closed his eyes as he savored the tastes. He should buy one for Chelsey. She probably hadn’t eaten yet and she loved these pastries. Thinking of Chelsey—
“Dad, I need your help.”
“You always have it, unless it’s burying a body. I’ve got a bad back and your mom is a lot stronger than me.”
Taylor stared at Dad with raised eyebrows.
“I’m kidding. My back is fine. What do you need?”
Taylor raised his eyebrows.
“Everything’s fine.” Dad raised a hand. “I promise. What can I help you with?”
“Someone called OSHA on the GP.”
His dad’s eyes lifted and met his, calm and sharp. “I heard.”
“I figured.” Taylor leaned back slightly. “Who was it?”
Dad took a slow sip of soda, buying time or choosing his words. Maybe both. Either way, the pause made Taylor restless. “You think I keep a running list of who causes trouble?”
“I think you know your council. And this doesn’t feel random.”
Dad set the glass down with a thud. “No, it’s not.”
“So?”
“So.” Dad swirled the ice with his straw. “A proposal was brought to the council a year or so ago. Private buyer wanted the property where the Gathering Place sits as well as the surrounding area, including the roller rink.”
“What for?”
“Mixed-use development. Retail on the bottom and luxury apartments on top.” A faint edge slipped into his voice. “Not exactly in line with what the town needs.”
“And the council voted it down.”
“They did.”
Taylor huffed out a breath. “Let me guess. Not unanimously.”
“One dissenting vote,” he confirmed.
“And suddenly OSHA shows up right before the auction.” Taylor shook his head. “That’s not very subtle.”
“I’ll see if I can nip this in the bud.”
The waitress came over with Taylor’s meal and left without a word. Taylor dug into his burger while the insights his dad fed him bounced around his mind. Why were humans so determined to ruin others’ happiness when they didn’t get what they wanted?
“I’d heard the auction has had some trouble. Is Dan Walker or Chelsey Hooper running it?”
Talk about subtle.
When Taylor didn’t answer, his dad continued. “How’s it going?”
“Organized. Efficient. Ready.” Stressed. Tired. Lonely. Lonely? Taylor thought back to their conversation just a little bit ago. Was Chelsey lonely? Who did she have to talk to and confide in?
He gave himself a mental shake. That wasn’t his concern. Besides, he saw how she interacted with her co-workers. They respected her and listened. She was fine. Probably.
“You’re not new to this, Taylor, but if I were you, I’d document everything you’re doing, not just at the roller rink.” He shifted back into mayor-mode seamlessly. “Document every fix, every call, every inspection. Leave a paper trail.”
“This might take longer than I planned.” Taylor calculated the days he had left in town.
“You have a pretty strict timeline?”
“Yeah.” Taylor glanced out the window. The festival noise sounded in the background. Chelsey was there, probably handing out muffins and laughing with her friends.
Dad glanced out the window, too. “From one businessman to another, most deals have a deadline.” He glanced back at Taylor. “And somethings don’t last forever.”
Taylor barely smiled at the double meaning under his dad’s words. “I’m starting to figure that out.”
Dad nodded once, as if that answer told him everything he needed to know.
“Did you hear about the trouble out at the Paradise Valley Ranch?” Dad waved his fork at Taylor. “Sounds like it was an electrical fire in the barn.”
“Really? Did it spread to the house? Were any of their animals injured?”
For the next few minutes, Taylor got caught up on all the news in town and the plans for the Founder’s Day which involved the usual: parade, 5K, farmer’s market and plenty of bounce houses. All the usual.
“Have you been able to get your preliminary report put together?” Dad set his fork on his plate with a clink, pushed back in his chair and rubbed his hands together. “I was hoping with your side gig as building inspector you’d be able to help me out.”
“I can do some of the same things as an architect engineer.” Taylor pulled a folder from his messenger bag and slid it across the table. “Many of your constituents won’t like it.”
“Especially our current inspector.” Dad picked up the folder but didn’t open it.
“Is Mr. Jenkins still around?”
“He is, though his memory is fading. I’d hoped you could give me some insights so I know what to look for when we hire a new person.”
Taylor lowered his voice. “I would hesitate to hold the quilt show in there right now.”
Dad frowned. “Is it that bad?”
“Not only is it ‘that bad’ but it’s borderline dangerous. There are wires exposed around the inside of the whole building. I’m surprised the roof hasn’t caved in yet. And don’t get me started on the list of ADA violations. Or maybe that is where we should start.”
“Did you put this all in your report?” He tapped the folder with his finger.
“I did, along with my recommendations and my fee.”
“Fine. I’ll look at it later.” He pushed the papers to the side. “I’ll have a check cut on Monday.”
Taylor raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you want to know what I’m charging the great city of Juniper Valley?”
“You know I trust you.” He checked his phone.
“Are you late for something? Another meeting?”
“Sorry I’m late.”
The aroma of rose and jasmine followed Taylor’s mom—Vivian Compton—as she circled the table to give Taylor a hug. “It’s so good to see you, Son”
Taylor stood to give her a proper hug. “Good to see you, too, though we just saw each other this morning before I left the house.”
She waved him off. “It’s just so good to have you home, even for a few days.”
“Hello, sweetheart.” Taylor’s dad stood and pulled the chair out for his wife.
“Did you miss me?” Taylor’s mom asked. The smile they shared was intimate and private.
“It was the longest hour of my life.”
Taylor wondered if they’d notice if he snuck away. They were having a hard time keeping their gazes off each other.
He studied his parents as they quietly chatted with each other. Taylor wondered if he’d ever find a relationship like his parents’. Their marriage wasn’t perfect, no one’s was, but he also witnessed them work on their relationship over the years and through the rough patches.
Taylor shuffled the salt and pepper around and straightened the sugar packets in their little container. He picked up his roll, took another big bite and took a gulp of milk. He glanced at his phone. No new texts and only a handful of work emails, which he would answer later.
Taylor’s mom leaned into her husband. “My two favorite men.” She took Taylor’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m so happy we are all here together, even for a few days. I’ll take what I can get.”