Chapter 12 Gisselle
I entered the town council chambers, clutching my binder. Six council members sat behind a mahogany table, and right in the middle, eyeing me, was councilman Harold Whittaker, the man who'd attempted to sink my project since day one.
I squared my shoulders and headed toward the podium at the center of the room.
Behind me, in wooden chairs, were more people than I expected: construction workers, concerned citizens, or, should I say, nosy town folk, who heard about the attempted arson at the build site and wanted to see the drama unfold firsthand.
Mayor Thompson nodded at me. "Ms. Daniels, thank you for coming on such short notice in light of recent events at the community center. The council has some concerns they would like addressed."
"Of course, I'm happy to walk you through the additional security measures we have implemented since the incident," I replied, setting up my presentation.
A few slides into my PowerPoint, Whitaker cleared his throat. "Ms. Reynolds, given your inexperience with small-town projects, I can't help but wonder if you overlooked basic security measures. It's rather convenient your site was targeted."
I paused the presentation as heat rolled up my neck. It's Daniels, Councilman Whitaker. Gisselle Daniels, and I assure you, security protocols exceed the industry's standards."
"My apologies, Ms. Daniels, but the fact remains that of all the construction projects in Goodwin Grove, yours was the only one that nearly went up in flames." His tone made it clear the mistake was intentional.
I blew out air, pulling up the security section of my presentation.
"I'd like to bring your attention to the comprehensive security plan approved by this very council three months ago. Please note we've installed motion-activated cameras, implemented strict access protocols, and coordinated regular patrols with law enforcement," I noted.
I clicked through a few more slides, showing different views of the camera replacements. I had worked on this exhibit last night while Liam worked on case files.
"These messages exceed the requirements for projects of this scope. The attempted arson was quickly discovered because of these protocols," I explained, making eye contact with each of the council members except Whitaker.
"Yet it still happened. It may be that your big-city approach doesn't translate well to Goodwin Grove. We value thoroughness over flash," Whitaker pressed, adjusting his glasses on his nose.
The implication hung in the air that I was somehow too urban for the small town, and frustration built in my chest like a dam.
"With all due respect, councilman, my big-city approach includes three award-winning historical renovations, along with a master's thesis on preserving architectural integrity while meeting safety codes, and the best industry practices."
Movement at the back of the room caught my attention.
Liam slipped into the room quietly with his arms crossed over his chest. He watched, but his jaw appeared tight enough to crack walnuts.
I was thankful I wasn't facing this alone.
The knot in my stomach eased slightly at the sight of him.
I straightened my spine, channeling every Black woman who had to prove herself in a room of doubters.
"Furthermore, the arson attempt at the community center appears to be connected to a series of similar incidents across town," I explained.
Whitaker's eyes moved briefly to the back of the room before returning to me. "Yeah, and that brings me to my next concern. Your relationship with the fire lieutenant raises questions about objectivity in this investigation."
A murmur rippled through the audience. My fingers tightened on the edge of the podium.
"My personal life has no bearing on this discussion, councilman," I defended.
Whitaker smiled. "It does make one wonder if you receive special consideration. Your project was fast-tracked through approvals and record time," he pointed out.
"My designs met all the requirements on the first submission. The approval timeline is public record, as are every permit, application, and inspection results," I countered.
Whitaker delivered his final blow as if he'd waited for this moment. "The question remains whether your careful carelessness invited this attack. I think we should consider whether you're the right fit for our community's needs."
The room was uncomfortably silent. My vision blurred slightly as I struggled to maintain my composure.
"The arson attempts targeted multiple buildings in this town and were not invited by anyone.
They are criminal acts being investigated by law enforcement.
Now, if you'd like to discuss the actual design in progress of the community center renovation, I'd be happy to continue.
Otherwise, I believe I have addressed the security concerns, as requested," I stated, my voice firm.
Mayor Thompson cleared her throat. "Thank you, Ms. Daniels. I believe the security questions were covered adequately. If you could leave the updated plans with the clerk, they will review them and reach out with any additional questions."
I nodded, gathering my materials. "Thank you."
I made my exit and delivered the plans to the clerk.
I didn't look back, because if I did, I might've shattered right there in front of everyone.
I barely made it away from the clerk as I walked down the hallway, looking for somewhere private.
I needed to hold it together for thirty more seconds.
I ducked around a corner and pressed my back against the cool wall.
Councilman Whitaker's attack had been personal and undermining to my very presence in this town, the way he deliberately called me the wrong name, questioned my confidence, and insinuated I invited danger to their community.
That shit was straight from the "How to Make a Black Woman Feel Uncomfortable" playbook.
My phone buzzed, startling me out of my thoughts. I pulled it out of my pocket. It was a text from Liam.
Liam:
Meet me at my truck.
I wiped under my eyes, making sure I hadn't smudged my mascara.
I didn't wanna give anyone the satisfaction of seeing me looking defeated.
I straightened my shoulders, tucked my portfolio under my arm, and headed toward the exit.
The parking lot was half empty, and Liam's pickup was parked in the far corner.
He leaned against the driver's side door, still in his uniform from his earlier shift.
As I approached, he scanned my face. He didn't ask if I was okay.
We both knew I wasn't. Liam opened the passenger door for me, waited until I got inside, and then gently closed it.
We drove to his house — well, our house now, at least temporarily. I stared out the window, looking at Goodwin Grove. Liam drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the console between us. He turned his palm up as an invitation, and I placed my hand in his.
"Whitaker is an ass, but today, he crossed the line," Liam said in a voice that told me he was more upset than he'd let on.
"Yeah." I couldn't say more than that single syllable without breaking down completely.
"Mayor Thompson looked like she was ready to strangle him by the end, though."
I nodded. Ten minutes later, we pulled into Liam's driveway, and the house I shared with him for less than a week already felt more like a home than my apartment ever had. I suspect it was the safety it represented, or maybe the way his presence filled the space.
I made it all the way inside before the first tear spilled over, then another and another. I pressed my palm to my mouth, but it was too late. The wall I built to get through that meeting crumbled.
"I've never been so humiliated. Years of education, three major renovations, and an award from the American Institute of Architects, and that man made me sound like a clueless city girl who wandered into Goodwin Grove, and accidentally invited an arsonist to the party," I admitted.
Liam wrapped his strong arms around me in an instant, pulling me against the solid warmth of his body. I allowed him to hold me as I pressed my face into the crisp fabric of his uniform shirt. My tears soaked through to his skin.
"This isn't about you. Whitaker had it out for the project from the start," Liam said.
"I can't tell. It feels pretty damn personal."
"It's about control. His buddy is an architect, and he wanted him to get that job. He can't stand something big is happening without his fingerprints all over it."
"Really?" I asked, and Liam nodded his head.
What Liam said was right yet doubt crept into my confidence. "What if he's right, though? What if I missed something?" I asked.
Liam pulled back enough to look into my eyes. "Your security plan is solid. I reviewed it myself. No one could've predicted a serial arsonist would target the site."
Liam didn't offer false assurances. His voice steadied me. If he said my plans were solid, they were. I wiped my eyes, embarrassed now at the breakdown. "I don't normally fall apart like this."
Liam brushed a tear from my cheek with his thumb. "Don't apologize. And for the record, if this is what you look like when you're falling apart, you look a hell of a lot better than most people do on their best day."
His remark pulled a wet laugh from me. "Oh, you didn't see my mascara situation before I came out to your car."
"It wouldn't have mattered, but I'm glad you stood your ground against that asshole. I was proud to be standing there watching you."
"I wanted to knock his false teeth down his throat, but Chief Reeves would've had my badge," Liam admitted.
"It would've been worth it," I affirmed.
"It absolutely would've been worth it. Are you alright?" Liam pressed a kiss to my forehead.
My humiliation dulled a bit, but the frustration remained. At least I wasn't facing this alone. "I will be. I just need a minute."
Liam nodded. "Take your time."
I leaned against him, drawing comfort from his body heat. My mama would've had a fit, knowing I cried over some white man's opinion, but had I missed something deeper?
Liam took my hand, leading me toward the couch. I kicked my heels off along the way before we settled onto the cushions. My body curved naturally against his side while his protective arm was around my shoulders. Liam's cologne wrapped around me like a security blanket.
"You know what my grandma would say about today?" I asked.
"What's that?"
"She'd say, 'Baby girl, folks will throw dirt on you. Just don't let them bury you in it,'" I mimicked her deep Mississippi drawl, and it brought a smile to my lips.
Lin's chest rumbled with a chuckle. "Smart woman."
"She was. She would've loved this project and how I'm bringing a new life to this building with so much history. That's why Whitaker's accusations hit so hard. This isn't just another job for me."
"I know. That's why you're the right person. You care more about how it will represent the community than adding a new notch on your belt."
I nodded and laid my head on his shoulder, but the moment was shattered when Liam's radio beeped.
"Dispatch to all units, engine three responding to a small fire reported at the old hardware store on Main. Additional units requested for crowd control."
Liam and I looked at each other.
"That's three blocks from the community center," he said, rising from the couch, his body shifting from comforting boyfriend to focused firefighter in an instant.
"You don't think—"
Liam cut me off. "Don't know yet if it's related." He moved to the entryway, grabbing his radio and keys.
I didn't believe in coincidences anymore, not after everything that happened.
I followed him to the door, hugging myself as a chill crossed my body. "Be careful."
Liam turned back. "I always am. Stay here, okay? Door locked, alarm set. I'll call as soon as I know anything." He pulled me in for a quick kiss, saying everything his words didn't.
I nodded, projecting confidence. "Go. I'll be fine."
He left as I stood alone in the entryway. It seemed this was only the beginning.