3. Orson
3
Orson
It’s been three weeks since I spoke to my grandfather. Apart from reading the file he gave me, which was the length of a novel without the happily ever after, I’ve spent that time collaborating with the other investors who will be involved.
We met in our offices in the city and spent an entire day coming up with a provisional plan. A few ideas were thrown around—advertising, repairs, sponsorship, the usual stuff—and even though we didn’t get everything nailed down, we got the basics.
Now, I’m back in Willow Creek to offer what we have. It feels more like I’m throwing myself to the wolves than offering an olive branch, but my grandfather didn’t really give me much choice, did he?
I sent my scouts out to the town first. I wanted to know what I was walking into. It’s a good strategy that has given me the edge on many contracts. Most of my deals are ten times the size of Willow Creek, and inside information—if you can call listening to office gossip that—has always been invaluable.
Their assignment was a little different this time. Usually, they lurk around offices and cafeterias, listening for any juicy information that might be relevant; you’d be surprised how rarely anyone asks them who they are. Wearing fake lanyards with their names and photos seems to make them invisible.
This time, there were no offices to infiltrate. Instead, they were advised to dress casually, armed with a laptop or a phone. On the face of it, they look like the average guy or gal enjoying a coffee or browsing for products in a store. What they are really doing is listening to all the gossip and gathering information.
All right, they’re spies, but scout sounds better on the payroll.
Whispers of a clandestine meeting have brought me here to Harper’s, where, true to my scout’s words, there is indeed a gathering of townfolk. From what I can see from the street, the place is packed.
I take a deep breath and look up at the sign above the bakery. It’s old and faded and could definitely do with a touch-up. I remember coming here nearly every Saturday morning with Mom. Mr. Harper was always kind and courteous. He didn’t treat us like most of the rest of the town, nor was his kindness fake. I got used to figuring out the false smiles from the genuine ones.
His daughter, Lily, always worked with him on the weekends. From what I hear, she still runs this place. I suppose I should feel relieved she’s still here. She was one of the few people that didn’t treat me like a pariah.
The meeting doesn’t seem to be going too well. Even outside, I can hear a full-blown shouting match going on. It makes me hesitate. I didn’t exactly envision an angry mob when I made the decision to crash this party.
Suck it up, Orson. You’ve dealt with million-dollar deals and faced CEOs running companies the same size as your own. This is a town meeting of country people. Get a grip!
It’s far more complicated than that, and I know it. But standing out here on the sidewalk is not going to get the job done. Placing my hand on the door, I push it open and venture inside.
Above my head, a light tinkle reaches my ears, and I glance up, noticing the little bell. It evokes even more old memories, though it’s barely audible over the racket. Four or five people are all talking at once, and then I hear one distinct voice.
“The town is lost, and that’s the end of it.”
My time to cut in.
“No, it isn’t,” I say, my voice loud and confident.
Like they’ve been struck by some affliction, the entire room falls silent, and I move forward to the front of the room. Feeling a chill as their stares follow me, my sights land on Lily Harper. It’s been a long time, and while I shouldn’t be so surprised—she was always a pretty girl—I am a little taken aback.
She’s tall and slender, with more curves, but in all the right places. Her dark brown hair is long, hanging down the front of her shoulders, and from a beautiful face, her green eyes are locked on mine. She’s surprised, but trying not to show it.
“Miss Harper,” I say.
“Mr. Donovan,” she replies.
There’s a woman in her forties standing behind her, looking me up and down. I can’t tell if she wants to eat me or beat me, but I smile at her, anyway. She rewards me with a huge smile, showing sparkling white teeth that shine against her brown skin.
Eventually, I turn toward my scowling audience. I’ve been in front of worse, but this is different. In this room, I’m facing people who ruined my childhood with their taunts, day in and day out.
I swallow my anxiety, pin on my smoothest smile, and begin.
“I know there are plenty of rumors flying around about Donovan Enterprises. But I’m here to put those rumors to bed. Rumor number one being that we are going to railroad Willow Creek and put up shopping malls, fast-food restaurants, and a drive-thru.”
I see some eyes lower, some surprised expressions, and some doubtful faces. My scouts are not only good, they’re the best. And they should be. I pay them enough. I’ve been told every single overheard conversation, every fear, every worry, every assumption these people have jumped to.
“I’m not here to rip this town from the roots. I’m here to help. You don’t need me to tell you that Willow Creek has had its troubles over the last five years. Sales have dropped, and local businesses have been forced to close or move on,” I continue. “The commercial side of this town has plummeted. In fact, I’m shocked at how many empty buildings I passed on my way here.
“Jobs became scarce, and naturally, people have left the town to find work elsewhere, which hasn’t helped you at all. The vibrant town that Willow Creek once was has faded into a quiet struggle for survival. But I’m here to turn that around.”
I’m surprised I haven’t been heckled yet, but there’s still time. Currently, I have their attention. I can see the sadness in their eyes, and for the first time since my grandfather handed me this project, I actually feel sorry for them.
“Willow Creek holds a special place in my heart. It’s the town I grew up in. The town I loved. The town that made me the man I am today,” I lie. “In fact, I begged to be given this project. That’s how much this town means to me.”
They’re drinking it all in. All the bull and the flowery reminiscence of a childhood I never had.
“I’m here to turn things around. Donovan Enterprises is here to help. This town gave a great deal to me. Now, it’s time for me to give back.”
Afterward, there are a hundred different questions that I deflect with phrases like, “We’re still in the planning phase,” “that’s on the agenda,” and “it’s a long and complicated process.”
“Are we going to have any say in what goes on?” This question comes from Cindy Caldwell. I remember her well. Once a cheerleader and one of the popular crowd, she was an instigator in making my life miserable. The girls were worse than the boys, and she relished the torture. I find myself a little distracted by memories and falter in my answer, but then I hear Lily Harper speaking from behind me.
“I’m sure Mr. Donovan will sit down with each and every one of us at some point to go through the process properly, Cindy.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I nod at her diplomatic answer. As tactful as it was, I definitely heard some gusto behind it. I also know it was Lily who organized this meeting, thanks to my spies. She is certainly a feisty one.
I answer a few more questions, and then Lily says, “I think that’s enough for one night, folks. It’s getting late, and I still have to fix my tables.” She laughs lightly.
It’s a soft laugh, and pleasant to the ear.
Her comment elicits a few chuckles from the group, and then people start getting up from their chairs. No one comes near me, which is no surprise. Putting their minds at ease is going to take more than one meeting. Slowly, they leave the bakery, until eventually, there is only me, Lily, and the woman who has been standing by her side since I arrived.
“I didn’t catch your name,” I say to her. I don’t recognize her at all, and I’m pretty sure she wasn’t living here when I was.
She thrusts out a hand and gives me that wide smile again. “Jasmine Miller, Mr. Donovan. A pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure’s all mine,” I reply, enjoying her strong grip. “You’re new to the town, aren’t you?”
The woman’s smile widens, though I didn’t think it possible. “I moved to Willow Creek about six years ago, just after my husband died. My boys and I needed a new start.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say, genuinely meaning it. She couldn’t be much more than forty-five, which is young to lose a husband.
“Thank you, sir. It was difficult at first, but it’s the best move I ever made. And this special woman right here”—she nods towards Lily, who is busy returning the tables to their normal places now that everyone has left—“has been my savior.”
“I think that’s going a bit too far, Jasmine,” Lily replies, a little breathless from her efforts.
“Clearly, you’re good friends,” I say.
“More than good friends,” Jasmine replies. “She’s my boss.” I’m a little taken aback by that news. “Which means, Mr. Donovan, that you are my new best friend.” She beams up at me. “In fact, I think the Lord sent you himself.”
I’m flattered, if a little speechless; not really knowing what to say, I thank her. By this time, Lily Harper is standing beside her best friend and employee.
“It was an interesting meeting, Miss Harper.”
She rolls her eyes. “You could say that.”
I smile and say, “Well, I should get going, too. But I do hope your fiery disposition will come in useful for the future plans of the town.”
She gives me a half-smile. “You have your work cut out for you, Mr. Donovan. These town folk won’t be easy to please.”
“Yes. I can see that. But then, they never were. I look forward to seeing you both again soon.”
The women wave goodbye, and I leave the bakery, kicking myself for letting that last comment slip. I can count on one hand the number of times I have let my emotions slip into a project or contract. It’s something I just don’t do. But then, this is not a run-of-the-mill project, is it? I’m back here, facing ghosts of a past I never thought I would need to revisit.
Even with all my calming tactics and appeasements, the room was still full of doubtful faces. It’s fairly clear that meeting my grandfather’s ultimatum is going to require all the wit, charm, and tenacity I can muster.