29. Chapter 29 - Paxton
We headed into the town hall, my stomach in knots.
Inside, we made our way to the big meeting room.
It had ugly blue carpet and a long table with seats for the council, along with seating in classroom-style rows for attendees.
There was an aisle in the middle of the chairs and at the end of the aisle was an old, wobbly lectern.
At the front of the room, seated at the council table, was Barbara Traylor, the woman who’d visited the meadery a month ago to warn me of what was coming, along with several other council members.
In the audience area sat a handful of residents, the kind who attended all of these meetings, along with several men and women in suits.
I recognized Evelyn immediately, an older woman with silver hair known for being the town busybody and gossip. She attended every single council meeting, regardless of the topic, mostly so she could spread the word about what had happened when she went about her business in the following days.
Nearby was Reuben Bennett, the mailman for Foggy Basin and the areas around. He also liked gossip, but he was never cruel about it. Reuben was a bear of a man in his late forties, with a ton of thick, red hair. He was a great guy, and generally well-liked.
Finally, I spotted Mr. Atkins, who was in his eighties. He was the kind of guy who used a cane but loved to walk everywhere he went, and spent his days lingering in local businesses. Some of the businesses didn’t appreciate his visits, but most at least tolerated him.
I glanced over at Callum. “Well?”
He nodded toward the front and made his way to the second row. “Let’s sit here,” he murmured. We took our seats then and I folded my hands in my lap, fidgeting with my fingers incessantly, until Cal put his hand on top of mine and squeezed gently. “It’s going to be great,” he assured me.
I forced myself to stop fidgeting and nodded. Slowly, people began to fill in the seats and eventually, the seven council members were all there and ready to begin.
“I now call this meeting to order,” Mrs. Traylor announced, and a hush fell over the room. “We have a busy agenda today, so let’s get right into it.”
With Callum by my side, I listened to Barbara read off the agenda.
There was a public comments section on the agenda, which surprised me.
Anyone there could speak on anything relevant to the town—whether it was a part of today’s meeting or not—and for some reason, that made my anxiety skyrocket.
What if people were there to protest the expansion of the meadery?
It seemed unlikely, but not impossible. What if the developer had somehow won over some of the townspeople and convinced them that whatever they wanted was better than what I wanted to do?
I swallowed hard and squeezed Cal’s hand.
His steady presence was reassuring, giving me a touchstone to focus on while the agenda was listed off.
The first thing on the agenda was school expansion.
I tried to listen carefully, but I found I didn’t care.
If the school needed to be expanded to keep up with population growth, so be it.
There was plenty of land around the school to be used.
The school wasn’t technically a part of Foggy Basin, but apparently that’s where the local students attended, so the council gave an opportunity to hear opinions about it.
The next thing they covered was the fall charity auction and dance. With fall approaching, they had a subcommittee preparing for the event, which was going to be raising money for a new library.
Finally, it was our turn. “Next up, we need to discuss the sale of parcel 108485. The property between Celestial Cask’s meadery and taproom, and the alpaca and Christmas tree farm,” Barbara announced. “We have two presentations from interested parties.”
The people in suits stood quickly and one of them cleared his throat. “We’d like to speak first if that’s agreeable to you, Mrs. Traylor.”
Barbara frowned. “I have Mr. Lowell on my agenda first. Apologies. Mr. Lowell, please join us at the front.” She gestured toward the lectern and I stepped forward to take my place.
“Hi,” I said quietly into the microphone.
“My name is Paxton Lowell and I’ve lived in Foggy Basin my entire life.
” As I spoke, I became more and more confident, and my voice stopped quavering and came out clear and strong.
“I’m here to discuss the purchase of the property adjacent to Celestial Cask.
I’ve been waiting for this opportunity for a decade, since I took over for my uncle, Paul Lowell, and started running the meadery myself.
We have a vision for this property. We’d like to expand the meadery, both the taproom and the brew space.
We’ve been talking about what to add. I’d love to have an outdoor event space to hold concerts, and seating for nice days, and maybe even a venue for parties like weddings and other events.
We want to expand the brewing room, too.
Eventually we’d like to distribute not just in Foggy Basin, where we distribute now, but maybe even statewide. ”
One of the council members cleared his throat, a bald, older man. “And have you secured funding for this expansion?”
I nodded slowly. “We just received word this morning that we’ve been approved for a grant with the Pearce Foundation.
It covers a substantial portion of the costs, and they’re offering support to find further funding as well, in the form of loans or grants.
We’re also waiting to hear back from several other grant applications. ”
“So you haven’t secured all the funding you’ll need?” His eyes were dark and sharp and I felt myself wither under his gaze a little.
“Well, no, but—”
“No further questions,” the man said. “You may be excused Mr. Lowell.”
Embarrassed, I slunk to my seat. The people in suits stood again, looking obnoxiously smug.
“My name is Elliot Ramsey,” he said. “This is my associate, Elizabeth Clark. We’re here to talk about what our company can do for Foggy Basin as a whole, if we’re granted the purchase of this property.”
Elizabeth held up big, glossy renderings on what looked like foam boards as Elliot talked. “We can promise to bring at least a hundred jobs to Foggy Basin.”
A hundred? Just like the brewery’s promises, I thought. I suppressed a disdainful snort.
“We will add revenue to the town and surrounding areas with our project, and bring Foggy Basin into the modern era.”
The renderings were of a busy downtown type area with tall, mixed-use buildings and very little green space.
“Walkability,” he said, nodding at Elizabeth, who pulled out the next rendering, one of sidewalks with pedestrians and bicycles everywhere.
“Mr. Lowell’s presentation is charming, but lacks scalability. And as you’ve heard, he also lacks funding, so while his ideas are charming, they aren’t fully realized. We have full funding to complete this development project and can break ground as soon as next week.”
Did he actually say anything about what they want to do? It didn’t sound like it. All he’d done was throw out some buzzwords and insult me.
Barbara Traylor nodded, her lips pressed tightly together, and cleared her throat. “Thank you, Mr. Ramsey.” Then she turned to the crowd. “We’ll have public comments next.”
She named the first three people who would be allowed to comment, and waited for the first person to approach the lectern.
They spoke about the school development project, which again, I found unimpressive.
The next person talked about the fundraiser for the library, and the third went back to the topic of the school.
After what seemed like a lot of back-and-forth about the school and library, several folks came up and spoke about the property sale and development.
Some were in favor of my proposal—saying they wanted to keep the heart of Foggy Basin intact, to preserve its charm and character.
Others were opposed to any development at all.
They didn’t want increased traffic, or the strain on the infrastructure.
Eventually, it seemed as if everyone had been given the opportunity to speak. Mrs. Traylor glanced at her list and then looked up at the crowd. “Our last community voice is Callum Sinclair.”
My stomach lurched. I didn’t know he’d signed up to speak at all. He gave me a reassuring smile and squeezed my hand before making his way up the aisle to the lectern.
“I’m Callum Sinclair,” he started. “My family lives in Foggy Basin, and I’ve lived here most of my life.
Some of you may know me from my recent byline for Connection Monthly, an article about the meadery itself.
You may not know that Paxton sources all of his ingredients locally.
There are several honey farms in the area that supply his honey, for example.
The fruit comes from local orchards. Everything is so lovingly crafted.
Celestial Cask isn’t just a soulless corporation looking to make a quick buck.
Paxton loves Foggy Basin. He loves his meadery and is passionate about crafting something sustainable.
That’s what drew my eye to Celestial Cask in the first place, and the more I learn about Paxton Lowell and Celestial Cask and how those two fit into Foggy Basin, the more I’m certain that if you don’t grant him the opportunity to expand, you’ll be making a serious mistake.
This is exactly what Foggy Basin loves. This is what Foggy Basin is.
Don’t sell out to a soulless corporation with money and empty promises. ”
He sat down after that, back next to me, and took my hand in his. It was warm. Solid and reassuring. My eyes burned with tears that I blinked back.
“Thanks,” I whispered.
“You can thank me later.” He grinned at me and squeezed my hand again, sending my heart soaring.
“Well, ladies and gentlemen,” Barbara said. “This council agrees we’re going to need to reconvene regarding this matter. We’re giving the council members twenty-four hours to consider their decision. We’ll be back here tomorrow with the final verdict. This session is adjourned.”
Once we were outside of town hall, I stood and stared at Callum. “Tomorrow.” My tone was incredulous, thick with worry and fear.
He nodded. “It’s okay. We can wait one more day.”
There was that word again. We. I ached for it to be true, longed for him to want to stick around long enough to see this through with me.
I wanted to hold him tight and forbid him from getting on that plane again on Wednesday.
How was I supposed to let him go, knowing he’d not only be terrified on every flight without me, but also gone for the better part of three months?
I let out a shaky breath. “Okay. One more day. You’re right. We can do it.” A moment passed. “What if—?”
He cut me off with a kiss. “No. No what-ifs tonight. It is what it is. There’s literally nothing you can do to change what happens at this point. All you can do is get your mind off of it.” He smirked. “And if I recall, you owe me from earlier.”
I laughed a little, my face heating. “Did you have something in particular in mind?”
He shrugged, overly casually. “I could use a shower.”
“Deal.” I kissed him quickly and hurried him toward the car so I could make good on my promise.