48. Colton
forty-eight
Colton
O wen says under his breath so only I can hear him, “No way in hell is her case going before Georgie’s. I don’t trust you yet, Harper.” In case I was too slow to realize what this is, the asshole clarified it for me. All along, that was his plan. When he came to see me in my office, booking a fake service for his car—I mean, is this guy for real? Where does he think he is? Backroom deals central?—assuring me the town needed a guy like me on the Select Board, someone who’d know when to do the right thing ?
“I can’t believe this shit,” I mutter.
Owen can go to hell. I don’t need a deal. I’m done trying to keep the peace for some bullshit, petty zoning rules that only make sense to the handful of people who passed them without anyone questioning it.
My beliefs are only valid in a vacuum. I never tried shoving them down someone’s throat.
And what’s more, I have no problem playing favorites with Kiara.
She is my favorite.
My everything.
And she deserves everything.
I’ll vote in favor of Kiara’s project, and I’ll oppose Owen’s. And what’s more, I’ll argue in favor of Kiara’s.
“I’d like to make a motion that Colton Harper should recuse himself from the vote,” Owen says in his sickly unctuous voice.
Cassandra turns reddish, Lynn finds a spot on her sweater that needs scrubbing, and Noah wipes his glasses.
One of them has to second that, but none speaks up.
I clear my throat. “On what grounds?”
Owen scoffs. “Conflict of interest, obviously.”
Kiara stands to speak up, but Owen interrupts her. “Motion has been made, no public comments please.”
Seriously.
Looking me straight in the eye, Cassandra says, loud and clear, “I’ll second that. There is a conflict of interest,” she adds.
Ms. Angela clears her throat, her gaze fixed on the screen on her laptop. “All in favor?”
Three ayes sound.
“Opposed?”
“Nay,” Noah says.
I raise my hand. “I’ll abstain from the vote, but I’m not gonna abstain from the discussion. Are we gonna have that discussion now?”
“I’ll just record that Colton won’t be voting,” Ms. Angela whispers, careful not to look at anyone in particular.
“Please,” Owen says, sitting back in his chair and gesturing to me like he’s in charge of the order of things.
“You can go ahead, dear,” Ms. Angela says to me as if Owen hadn’t said anything.
Kiara stands again. “Can I speak now?” she asks.
“No!” we all answer her.
She gapes at us and sits back down, her gaze drilling into mine. Maddie rolls her eyes. There’s a slight gasp in the audience.
“We’ll let you know when you can talk,” Ms. Angela says kindly to her, and I want to hug her right now for soothing the hurt I see in Kiara’s eyes. “For now, it’s just the board.”
“Colton?” Lynn says softly, prompting me to talk.
“Kiara has been a part of our community for about seven years now. Part of the Emerald Creek family. During these seven years, she’s worked tirelessly at various establishments, helping them grow their businesses. She could have left for more prestigious jobs, but she stayed here, putting our community before her own ambitions. She donates most of the desserts for the community dinners. She’s volunteering to train the kitchen staff at the Silver House, selflessly giving away her time and knowledge so that the elderly in our town can enjoy the quality meals they deserve. Everyone in this town knows she’s also a volunteer club counselor at the high school. And most of you had a cup of hot chocolate poured by Kiara during our Christmas fair. Kiara donated all the proceeds of the hot chocolate—not just her profits, all the money—to the homeless shelter in Prattsville. She may not have been born in Emerald Creek, but she’s one of us in spirit. One of the best of us. What you may not know, is that Kiara has gone through a lot of hardships during her life, and that these hardships brought her here. We adopted her and she adopted us. We have a debt to her. We owe it to her, because of the trust she put into us, to lend a hand now that she needs it. To give back what she so selflessly gave to our community.
“Is it too much to ask to make an exception to a rule so that an exceptional young woman, who sets such a great example to our youth, can finally find the success she deserves by operating out of her own space?”
I fucking hate to talk, and there’s a reason to that. I’m not good at it. I can barely say what I really mean.
Ms. Angela finishes typing on her laptop, a thin smile playing on her face. She lifts her gaze to me and winks, then looks around the table to see if anyone else has something to add.
Owen clears his throat. “Yeah, that’s not really grounds for a variance, Colton. I mean that was moving and all—goes to show you were right to recuse yourself from the vote—but, what’s in it for the community?”
I shake my head. Did he even listen to me? “Doing the right thing,” I answer him. “Keeping a gem in town.”
“A gem?” He snorts.
I swear, this guy always makes me want to punch him. It’s like he’s asking for it.
“Alright, alright, boys,” Lynn cuts in before I can answer. “I think we got it. Cassandra? Did you want to add something?”
Cassandra looks at each one of us in turn. “As much as I love Kiara, her confections, her ethics, her creativity… there has to be a better way for her to find her place than by asking us to bend the rules. The zoning is here to protect the natural beauty of our environment. The purpose of the land. I’m not opposed to revisiting our zoning in an organized manner. I’m afraid I can’t support variances, except in extremely rare cases.”
Lynn addresses Kiara directly. “Have you looked at the Potters’ cottage?”
“That’s for young families,” Owen cuts in.
“And?” I ask him before Kiara has a chance to say anything.
He spreads his hands. “Is there something you forgot to tell us, Harper?”
“Ohmyfuckinggod!”
We all turn to the audience, stunned. We’re not prudes, and this isn’t church. But an F-bomb during a Select Board meeting? I don’t think we’ve heard one of those since the Airbnb debates.
Kiara is standing, flushed, fists clenched down her sides. “I’m withdrawing my application. No need to get angry or waste everybody’s time. I get it. I should look for another place.” She stomps to Ms. Angela and extends her hand.
“What, dear?” Ms. Angela asks her.
“I’d like my application back.”
“Uh, sure.” She shrugs, giving her a file. “That’s not really how it works, but… sure.”
“Just making sure he doesn’t change you guys’s minds,” Kiara says, pointing at me. “He has a way with words.”
Lynn smiles at Kiara. “He does, doesn’t he? Never heard him talk for so long, and I was quite impressed.”
“Ditto,” Cassandra says.
“I have it all written down.” Ms. Angela beams. “On the record,” she adds with a contented sigh.
“Are we done here?” Owen grunts.
But my eyes are on Kiara as she struts out, her shoulders square, her spine straight, the file tucked under her arm.
Everyone thinks this was cute and shit, but I can almost feel the tears she’s holding in choking my own throat.
Fucking hell.
When I see Owen’s sister Maddie follow Kiara out, my initial instinct is confirmed.
There’s no way Owen didn’t set this up, or at least heavily influence his sister into convincing Kiara she could operate a pastry shop in an agricultural zone. What pisses me off, is that he and his sister manipulated Kiara, hoping to get my vote for another project, and I didn’t see it coming.
Between the vote on George Richardson’s request for a variance (denied), Declan’s report on the egg bombing and the painting of Daisy (none of which have any resolution), the events’ committee’s request for an emergency approval of two hundred dollars’ worth of pink balloons for Valentine’s Day Festival, it’s another hour before I can run out of the meeting and make it to Sunrise Farms.
But Kiara isn’t there.