Chapter 7
The private dining room of Benny’s Barbeque was a far cry from the sleek, glass-walled conference rooms Calvin usually commanded in Manhattan.
Here, the air was thick with the scent of old wood, stale ale, and the faint lingering aroma of fried pickles.
The restaurant was clearly a local institution, and today, it might become the battleground for the Brookwell Music Festival.
He really hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Having Grace as an enemy was not his ideal outcome. During yesterday’s meeting with Levi and two of the officers of the committee, they agreed it would be best if Cal and Grace spoke alone before the official kick-off in an hour.
Cal was sure the only reason she agreed was thanks to Willow’s efforts.
Although Willow hadn’t grown up with Grace, they’d become inseparable best friends in college.
And, from what Levi had shared, Willow had come here, specifically to Grace, when she’d needed to mend her own broken heart and find a fresh start.
He supposed falling in love had served as a fresh start for both Levi and Willow. He had to admit being in love had done wonders for Levi in general. It seemed his top client was diving into his family era.
Fair enough.
Cal shoved aside a swell of jealousy. Ages ago, he thought he’d be at a similar stage by this point in his life. Married, maybe a kid or two. Definitely a suburban homeowner with a friendly dog in the yard.
But then Grace had left him. Intentionally or not, she’d effectively shut him out.
He’d been crushed that he couldn’t think of a way to help her.
After what had been their final conversation, he forced his attention to surviving the challenges of college, hopeful that one day he’d have the means to help her get unstuck from small town life.
Except she didn’t behave as if she’d settled.
Losing her mom must’ve been terrible, and yet every data point indicated she was thriving.
According to Willow, renting the apartment over the shop had been a way to diversify her financial interests, not prevent a disaster.
Though he had yet to see the shop crowded with customers, apparently the Beach Belle was thriving.
At least he’d helped with the diversification.
The full picture was still taking shape, but these new critical pieces were changing his view.
People here respected Grace not just for her service on the festival committee.
They considered her a savvy businesswoman and community leader.
From what he’d heard, she regularly championed her friends and participated in events all over town.
It all added up to one thing: she didn’t need him to save her from a place he wanted to hate.
If that remained true, it threw off a big part of why he’d agreed to Levi’s insistence that Cal handle this festival issue in person.
In so many ways he’d blamed Brookwell for Grace not being in his life. He’d fabricated an image of circumstances and responsibility that held her back, trapping her in a small town and preventing her from realizing her dreams. Dreams he’d wanted to support and stand with her as she achieved them.
What else had he missed with all his assumptions?
“Hello?” Grace walked in, her back straight and her chin lifted, as if daring him to take his best shot. Figuratively, of course.
“Hi.” He waved her closer to the table he’d chosen. When the rest of the committee arrived for the kick-off meeting, he and Grace would be in the center, hopefully as a united front. “They brought a water pitcher and told me to ask for whatever else we’d like.”
“Great.” Her tight, polite smile didn’t reach her eyes and her hands were locked around a notebook. “Thanks.”
“Do you want anything stronger?”
“Not until you give me a reason.” A genuine smile flitted across her face and the tension gripping his shoulders eased.
“None of our initiatives are meant to undermine anyone.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Have a seat, please?” He poured her a glass of water.
She sat, ignoring the water glass, in favor of smoothing her hands over the notebook.
He remembered the way her hand curled around his as they walked between classes and how she used to glide a hand over his shoulder while he studied.
It wasn’t easy to shove those memories aside, but this wasn’t the right time for reminiscing.
“The local vendors are the backbone of this town, Calvin,” Grace said, her voice steady despite the way her fingers fidgeted with her pen.
“I’ve looked over the email you sent. If we bring in corporate food trucks from the city, we’re essentially siphoning money out of Brookwell. That isn’t what this festival is for.”
Calvin had been forced to relax his normal wardrobe to blend better with the beach town vibe.
He’d left the blazer in the closet and opted for a classic Irish cable knit sweater in a deep teal, though he stuck with khaki slacks rather than denim.
He’d dressed as a casual professional, but his attention was fixed on the stray red curl that had escaped her clip.
Ten years ago, he would’ve had the honor of tucking that curl behind her ear, or simply winding it around his finger.
“Calvin?”
Hearing her say his name snapped him out of his inappropriate reverie.
“Where to start,” he murmured. “At the top, I guess. I’m not trying to replace the locals, Grace.
I’m trying to scale the event. Bring in more money for everyone.
Levi brings national press to every venture. Sometimes even global interest.”
“I understand that.”
Oh, how he wished that were true. He’d nearly botched his first event with the business mogul because he was sure he’d understood the scope of influence.
“National press requires a certain level of infrastructure,” he continued.
“If the lines for a taco are forty minutes long because we only have one local stand, the reviews will be scathing and the festival credibility goes down.”
“Then we help the local stand hire more staff,” she countered. “We invest in our people. We don’t just invite in a competitor because it’s easier for your spreadsheet.”
“This is about more than the spreadsheet, it’s about highlighting what makes this town amazing.”
She stared at him. “Well, we agree on that.”
That was the only point of agreement for the next hour as she opened her notebook and gave him a mountain of data and meticulous notes he hadn’t expected. As the chairperson of the outreach committee, she’d done her homework.
He had no valid reason to be surprised, and yet he was.
Essentially, they bickered for an hour. Her deep-rooted community knowledge dueling against his data and projections. They weren’t making much progress. She refused to acknowledge any of his better ideas or options to compromise. So much for that united front.
By the time the rest of the committee arrived, the air in the meeting room felt thinner, practically humming with electricity. He was so attracted to the woman she’d become that he’d nearly walked back Levi’s expansion plans.
“Excuse me.” He left her at the table, winding his way through the restaurant and outside for a breath of air that wasn’t laced with the scent of Grace.
When he returned, she was standing close to Reed Davis, owner of the Pelican Pub and president of the Brookwell Music Festival planning committee. Whatever Reed said had her giggling. Cal’s vision hazed in a cloud of jealousy. Once upon a time, that laugh was reserved for his jokes.
And he was being a total ass. Of course, she had friends and colleagues. Relationships that were only new to him. Because he hadn’t tried to check on her after that final phone call.
Frustrated by his lack of control and focus, he took his seat and shut out all distractions while he reorganized his notes. No matter what happened in this meeting, he couldn’t risk alienating anyone by contradicting Grace directly.
The kick-off meeting proceeded with what he assumed was typical ease. The only new face this year, Cal stood and explained his role when he was introduced, being as succinct and non-threatening as possible. All around the room, folks seemed to accept his presence as Levi’s representative.
Finished for the moment, he sat down, risking a glance at Grace. She didn’t smile, but she wasn’t glaring either. Points to him for doing something right today.
When it was Grace’s turn to present her ideas for outreach, she started by reviewing the attendance and sales numbers from last year. Then she shocked him speechless.
“Calvin and I brainstormed some ideas earlier. With Levi Garrison as a new corporate sponsor this year, we are likely to see a surge in attendance. To that end and to keep the event beneficial for everyone, I’d like to propose a scaled fee for vendors.
Lower entry points for our local businesses as a starting point. ”
A brief discussion to clarify the pricing tiers was settled quickly and the vote to change those rates passed—unanimously. He wasn’t about to vote against her proposal.
“Thank you,” Grace said with a wide smile. “One additional idea I’m toying with is a central location for hand-crafted goods. Rather than have our friends and neighbors compete with sellers from outside of Brookwell, we could create a showcase of local talent. And publicize it as such.”
“As long as I get my annual supply of peach preserves!” Reed called out.
Cal chuckled along with the others. Had she and Reed discussed that before the meeting or were the quilting circle’s preserves he’d heard mentioned in hushed whispers really that good?
“Levi can provide whatever you need for that kind of vendor tent,” Cal offered.
Grace gave him her full attention, just for a moment, and he felt as if he was standing in the glow of a warm sunbeam.
“Publicity too. We, um, can discuss the details later.”
“Absolutely,” she agreed. “We’ll have a complete proposal for the committee by next month’s meeting.”