Chapter Thirty
THE GOATS WERE back.
This time, with clear rain ponchos draped over their sandwich board signs.
As the sun dipped low on Service’s horizon, a stubborn heat clung to the air, heavy and unmoving, a weighted blanket too thick for summer.
Visible in the distance, storm clouds painted the sky with dense green hues.
Inside the town hall building, the musty scent of aged paper and citrus-polished bookshelves mingled with the day’s lingering humidity.
Tension seemed to grip her thoughts, if not her tapping right foot, as she mentally rehearsed key points to reinforce throughout her council presentation.
An energetic mix of conversation rolled like the distant rumble of thunder heard above the rising buzz of the growing crowd.
Rachel’s father leaned over the railing at her back, his voice a low drawl that matched the easygoing cadence of neighbors catching up on daily gossip and kids whisper-laughing in the back of the room. “You got this, RJ.”
“And we got you, FriendFriend,” Benji said, his presence a steady pillar of support.
Rachel, thankful for his friendship, offered a tight smile, trying to steady the weird fluttering in her chest. Beside her on the left sat Bethany.
When their eyes met, the other woman’s gaze softened, the caramel tones catching the fading light filtering through the windows.
Quiet strength infused with an uncanny sense of safety bolstered Rachel’s courage.
They had built this proposal as a family.
As a unit, they’d convince the town that repurposing many of the existing structures preserved Service’s history, and the cost savings allowed for improved infrastructure benefits for every member of the community.
She let that sink in. Her journey back to Service had been filled with trepidation, but here she was—at home with her father, a future stepmom she admired and trusted, and Amarie, her brilliantly talented sister-to-be.
Service had always been her birthplace, but this new revelation spanned beyond geographical location.
This connection, in reality, was what mattered to her.
She added value to a community that welcomed her, good or bad, with or without a transactional price tag attached. She was one of them.
The door creaked open, and Pete strutted into the room, his grin spreading like wildfire across his face—too brilliant, too smug, too unbridled. Rachel’s nerves jangled at the sight, but then Noah followed, his tall frame casting a long shadow, dousing Pete’s flame.
Dressed in a blue plaid button-down over his white T-shirt, jeans, and boots, Noah looked scrumptious.
He’d edged and trimmed his hair during their hours apart.
She longed to curl up beside him, her head cradled in his strong, capable arms. As if he felt the lure of her gaze, his hazel eyes met and held hers for a long moment, grounding Rachel like the deep roots of the great oak beside their plunge pool.
He gave her a wink as he strode past twin tables with three folding chairs each, and pedestal microphones, separated by a solo table with a gavel on a raised dais at the front of the room.
Her mouth watered.
“Alright, folks,” Pete boomed, his voice screeching with authority in a room filled with people who’d probably changed his crap diapers more than once in his lifetime.
Nonetheless, this was Service. He held a title, so the meeting came to order, and the chatter hushed to a respectful murmur.
With Pete as the centerpiece, the six other council members divided themselves between the two tables on either side of the wannabe king.
After the perfunctory call to order and introductions, Bethany rose gracefully from her seat in the first row of many, her poise unfaltering as she approached the ancient wood podium before the neighbors who’d determine their proposal’s fate. She cleared her throat.
“Service has a rare opportunity to lead the way in restoring access to care in this county, starting with a new public service complex with expanded capabilities for our fire, police, and EMS services. Affordable housing, a new library, and a historical center with retail shops where the old mill is currently. A renovated office complex for our mayor and staff. And a project dear to my heart… A medical clinic and disaster management center right here on our mountain,” she started.
Her words flowed smoothly, building a picture of possibilities, brick by brick, minute by minute, bulldozing naysayers and raising hopes for an attentive crowd.
Bethany reminded them of the resources once available within the community, and the homes lost in the recent fire, and wowed them with renewed purpose for abandoned spaces.
“Ladies and gentlemen, our vision for the town of Service is robust yet reachable—imagine rental apartments, Kanaan not working out of his garage, faster response times in case of fire and disasters, and a clinic within a ten-minute drive, including programs in our community for type 2 diabetes, high blood pressure, alcoholism recovery, and drug treatment.”
Rachel turned to eye the crowd, noting the nods of agreement.
Bethany was new to Service, but she spoke a language the people in rural towns understood—limited funds, long hours, and high stress—all of which contributed to high-risk lifestyle behaviors, many of them destructive.
Some of the young wives and mothers had tear-stained faces.
“Regional disaster management and a public health rapid-response system to include vaccinations for young and old,” she continued.
“Older,” an elderly man from the crowd interjected, drawing a laugh.
“Yes,” Bethany corrected with a smile. “Young and not so young anymore.” As the storm outside gathered strength, Bethany’s gestures grew with passion as she detailed more of their proposal, her voice a beacon cutting through approaching thunder.
“Now Rachel and Benji, acting as the pro bono consultants on this revised redevelopment plan, will speak to the building design, economic impact, and job creation if this proposal is funded.”
The mention of new jobs garnered attention from the men and women in the room.
“Thanks, Bethany.” Rachel said, swallowing. With one quick glance over her shoulder, she sought one last reassuring nod from Noah. His head was lowered, brows furrowed, the cell phone he never left home without visible in his large palm.
Did he need to go down to the station?
She waited a beat, hoping he’d look up—see her.
When he didn’t, she turned to face the council.
Pete lowered his cell phone to the table, looked up, and gave her a huge smile.
Rachel’s spine stiffened. The urge to turn back, to see Noah’s face, and to reassure herself that he had her six gripped her, but there was no time.
Beside her, Benji pointed to the camera on his phone, urging her to “getteh-thou-a-going” for their live viewers.
“Right,” she sighed. She could do this. Twenty minutes later, Rachel had summarized their redevelopment vision, which preserved the town’s character, including the community, culture, and quality of life.
The audience erupted, and hoots and hollers echoed off the walls.
Rachel felt her heart swell with pride. Bethany’s proposal wasn’t just paper and ink—it was love and respect for the town of Service woven into every word.
Above the clapping, Pete’s gavel struck the podium, each blow cracking against her eardrum. Rachel winced. Others grumbled their displeasure. Pete’s eyes locked with hers, and his next words splintered her optimism, an ax felling wood.
“Now, hold on,” he said, pausing for dramatic effect.
“There’s another proposition on the table.
” The announcement sucked the oxygen from the room.
In its place, a rising panic shrank the room.
The mayor continued. “To use Mrs. Bethany’s words, we have a rare opportunity to save the jobs we have, update equipment for the Service County fire and law enforcement departments, and, of course, the town government.
Thanks to Noah Calvary’s commitment to this town, we’ll have a state-of-the-art public services and government complex at an alternate location than presented today.
The other projects will be discussed at a date to be determined. ”
The audible gasp boomed like the implosion happening in Rachel’s chest. Pete rolled on, painting a dire scenario of job loss and shuttered doors if the town failed to act quickly, unmoved by the stark stillness in the room.
From the corner of her eyes, Rachel saw Leah Calvary shoot to her feet. “What’s happening here, Pete Judelson? Noah, what about our clinic? The housing? What’s he talking about? That government complex is not on the agenda, and I don’t appreciate being blindsided.”
Rachel’s breath caught. Her heart hammered.
Her pulse hammered in her ears. Rain pummeled the windows.
Thunder shook the building’s foundation while hers cracked and crumbled.
She knew this feeling. Except this time, the town and her colleagues would bear witness to her humiliation.
Darkness eclipsed the very beat of her heart.
“I’m going to tell you, Mrs. Calvary,” Pete explained.
“In recognition of Noah Calvary’s lifelong dedication to this town”—he stared directly at Rachel when he spoke—“and his role as committee chair, I say we embrace his proposal, one to fund the firefighters and police officers and save jobs rather than start a project that will take months, maybe years, to realize. You’ve heard both plans, the original and Rachel’s.
Let’s vote on who the best man is for the job of building a better town. ”
“Rachel, you’re literally boiling red right now.” It was Benji, whispering her name, but she couldn’t answer. She couldn’t think. “Rachel, talk to me, FriendFriend.”