Chapter 4
My palms sweated as I arranged my plans on the mahogany conference table.
This wasn't my first rodeo presenting to skeptical clients.
Lord knew I'd faced plenty of doubtful older men in Columbus, but something about this meeting had my stomach in knots.
Maybe because Goodwin Grove wasn't just another client, it was my home, the place I'd chosen to rebuild my life.
And if the side-eyes from the council members shuffling into the room were any indication, they weren't thrilled about a newcomer redesigning their precious community center.
"All set up, Ms. Daniels?" Mayor Thompson asked, her silver bob swinging as she peeked her head through the doorway.
"Yes, ma'am. I'm ready when you are," I replied, checking my blouse wasn't doing that gaping thing between the buttons.
The council members entered one by one, a total of seven. I clocked them all as they entered. They looked at me as if I had plans for a strip club rather than a community center. Mayor Thompson took her seat at the head of the table, all business efficiency in her navy pantsuit.
"Let's call this meeting to order. As you all know, we've hired Taylor Design Group to reimagine our community center, and today, we'll be hearing from their lead architect, Gisselle Daniels."
She nodded in my direction, and seven pairs of eyes were on me. I blew out a slow breath, channeling the same calm I'd maintained while waiting to be rescued from that fire.
"Good afternoon. I'm excited to share my vision for your new community center.
As you can see, I've maintained the historic facade of the original structure while introducing modern elements to create a more welcoming, accessible space.
" I unveiled the first large-format print of the exterior building.
I pointed out how I would preserve the building's century-old brick exterior while showing the interior as an open, multi-functional space.
The glass atrium would flood the center with natural light, and the reclaimed wood accents honored the town's logging history.
This wasn't any design. I'd spent weeks researching Goodwin Grove's architectural heritage, walking the streets, and absorbing the character of the place I now called home.
"The multipurpose rooms can be configured for everything from senior yoga to teen movie nights. The cafe area here will serve as a social hub, encouraging gatherings and community—"
"Excuse me. This looks very metropolitan. I'm concerned it's not in keeping with our town's character," an older man with wire-rimmed glasses interrupted, adjusting them as if they helped him see through bullshit better.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I'd heard this same criticism in different forms throughout my career — the implication that a Black woman couldn't possibly understand the "character" of predominantly white space.
"Actually, Councilman…" I paused, waiting for him to fill in his name.
"Whitaker, Harold Whitaker. My family has been in Goodwin Grove for four generations."
Of course it had.
"Councilman Whitaker, I designed this space to honor Goodwin Grove's character.
The brick pattern matches the original 1905 construction.
The interior wood beams are exposed, showcasing the era's craftsmanship, and the color palette was pulled directly from historical photos of the town.
I believe respecting a town's character means understanding its past while creating space for its future.
" I flipped to a research board to show the group my process.
His mouth tightened into a thin line. "It's a bit fancy… We're simple folks here."
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from snapping back. Simple folks? The condescension was so thick I could cut it with a knife.
"With all due respect, there's nothing simple about this community. In my research, I discovered a town with a rich history, diverse needs, and a desire for spaces to cater to everyone, from seniors to young families. This design reflects that complexity," I responded, keeping my tone professional.
Another council member, a balding man with a red tie, spoke up. "What about the cost? All that glass can't be cheap."
"I've worked within the budget parameters provided. Using local materials and contractors creates savings while stimulating the local economy."
The questions continued, some genuine, while others were fishing for any reason to reject the outsider's ideas. I answered each one with facts and rationale.
"I still think it looks too modern, like something you'd see in Chicago or New York, not Goodwin Grove," Councilman Whitaker persisted.
I blew out air. "Councilman, with respect, what exactly about the design feels foreign to Goodwin Grove?
Is it the accessibility features to allow elderly residents to navigate without stairs?
The flexible spaces that can host everything from the annual quilting exhibition to children's play groups?
Or perhaps the solar panels, which will cut operational costs by thirty percent over the next decade? "
A tense silence fell over the room. I pushed back harder than I intended, but damn, I was proud of this design. I'd poured myself into making something to serve this community, which had become my own.
Mayor Thompson cleared her throat. "Ms. Daniels makes excellent points. This design preserves what we love about our town while providing us with the modern facilities we desperately need. The old center is falling apart, folks. We need to move forward."
Relief hit me at the mayor's nod of approval.
"I move we approve the preliminary designs with the understanding Ms. Daniels will work with us on some modifications to incorporate certain town elements better."
"Second," another councilor added.
Mayor Thompson looked pleased. "All in favor?"
Five hands went up. Whitaker and his red-tied ally kept their hands down, but it was enough. The motion carried.
"Excellent. Ms. Daniels, we'll send you our notes for the modifications we'd like to see. Nothing major, perhaps more traditional fixtures in the entryway, additional references to local history in the interior design."
"Of course. I look forward to your feedback," I agreed, already mentally making adjustments.
As the meeting ended and the council members left, I gathered my drawings. I needed this project to succeed, not only professionally but personally. It was my anchor in this new life.
"Don't mind, Harold. He objects to anything that wasn't here when he was born. Your design is exactly what this town needs," Mayor Thompson assured me, hanging back.
I smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Mayor. I appreciate your support."
"You earned it. I'm looking forward to seeing this come to life." The mayor playfully grabbed my elbow before exiting the room.
I left the hall accomplished, having cleared another hurdle. I stood my ground, defending my vision. The old me, the one who'd let my ex-fiancé, Shelton, dictate our home design, despite my professional expertise, would have conceded more ground and apologized for my ideas.
Fire had a way of burning away what didn't serve me. Walking through those flames had left me with a clarity I hadn't had before, about who I was, what I wanted, and the fact that I refused to be diminished again. Not by councilmen, ex-fiancés, or anyone.
After the meeting, I needed grease, the kind that clogged arteries and soothed souls.
My mama always said a good burger could fix anything short of a broken heart, and while my heart wasn't broken, my professional pride had taken a slight hit from Councilman Whitaker and his "simple folks" bullshit.
I found myself entering Grill & Chill, the local burger joint, which quickly became my go-to spot for comfort food since moving to Goodwin Grove — fried onions, sizzling beef, and the scent from a grill that had been seasoning itself for decades.
The place was halfway between lunch and dinner rush. The vinyl booths were worn in a comfortable way. I looked around for an empty booth when I heard, "Yo, Architect!"
Jaxon and Dane waved me over to their booth.
"Hey, imagine meeting you here," I greeted them.
"Join us. Unless you have a hot date waiting," Jaxon joked.
"It's just me and my burger craving. How's it going?" I asked as I slid into the booth.
"Better now. How's life treating The Good Hood's newest architect? Redesigned any burning buildings lately?" Jaxon grinned, his perfect white teeth glowing against his brown skin.
I rolled my eyes but smiled. "It's too soon, way too soon."
"Ignore him. How are you settling in?" Dane asked.
"It's an adjustment. Today I presented my design ideas for the community center to the town council. Let's just say not everyone is thrilled about the new girl's ideas," I explained.
The waitress approached our table. "You boys want the usual?" she asked, and they nodded their heads in agreement. "What for you, hon?"
"Bacon cheeseburger, extra pickles, sweet potato fries, and a chocolate shake," I rattled off.
Jaxon raised his eyebrows. "Damn, girl. I like a woman with an appetite."
"I like a man who doesn't comment on what I eat," I shot back, but there wasn't any heat to my words. Jaxon's flirting was performative, like his default setting rather than genuine interest.
Jaxon clutched his chest dramatically. "I'm wounded! Dane, you hear how she talks to me?"
Dane chuckled. "I can't blame her. You make it too easy."
"What are you doing to redesign your social life, huh? Our town has a lot of things happening, like our annual chili cook-off. The chief of Station 791 has taken the trophy three years running."
"Let me guess, your secret ingredient is something crazy like peanut butter or coffee grounds," I commented.
"Who knows? Chief guards the recipe like the nuclear launch codes." Jaxon laughed.