Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
HARMONY
“I don’t know if you always conduct business like this here—” Harmony let the full force of her powerful voice carry across the room to an exasperated-looking Travis, and several people stopped their side conversations to give her their attention. “But I would be really glad if we did get to the open comments part of the agenda? I actually think what I came here to talk about will be of interest to all these obviously good and clearly concerned parents.”
By the time she finished this opening, most of the crowd had quieted and turned her way. The air in the room became a held breath. Harmony, right at the center of attention, where she loved to be, felt like a conductor raising her baton. Time to steer this meeting just where she wanted it.
“Excuse me, Miss, uh—” Travis furrowed his brow at her. No way he’d recognize her—she’d been a tiny thing when he’d last seen her, a child with secondhand clothes and unbrushed hair, and he’d always been too far up his own ass to notice people unimportant to him anyway. Maybe he needed glasses but was too vain to wear them. Funny, because her own lenses were prescriptionless. But the frames made her look older, serious, more trustworthy.
Ha.
“Harmony Hale, Rhythmic Events.” Mentally, she snapped a hand shut at Travis. Silence from you right now . She called upon her first chairs—the anxious parents. “And I hear what these people are saying. Nothing is more important than the well-being of a community’s children.”
Nods and murmurs of agreement buoyed her hold over the room, forestalling interruption by the council, even without Alice cutting their mics. A few people chimed in more loudly, with “That’s right!” and “What is the town doing to address the needs of parents in the community?”
They hadn’t been asking Harmony, but she answered anyway. “Kids need a village. Values. Somewhere to direct their wonderful energy. And that’s just what we do at Rhythmic—strengthen communities, through world-class cultural events. I’m in town to scout potential sites for the launch of a new music festival.”
This earned raised brows, mouths formed into little O s, whispers of excitement. Along with the majority of the room, the possibly mentally unstable librarian’s attention was locked on her. He’d twisted his long body around to look her way, arm bent along the back of his chair.
Travis tried to regain control once more, holding up whatever paper he’d finally found in his pile. “Actually, the agenda—”
Preston glanced back and forth between the mayor and Harmony—and once at his notecards—as if he wasn’t sure which way he wanted the power balanced between them to tip.
Harmony barreled forward with oblivious purpose. “Yes, my agenda is to introduce the concert proposal and gauge interest on the part of potential stakeholders.” She tapped her finger against her folio, signaling Alice.
Faithful Alice was right on cue with her counterpoint. “A rock concert?”
“No, all kinds of music!” Harmony carried on, knowing this would reassure the seniors and plenty of others. “My firm’s interested in being the first in California to host a multigenre, multicultural musical festival focused on the whole family.” And that would catch the attention of everyone who’d just witnessed Jordan’s protest, goad them to prove how worldly and accepting they were, along with providing an alternative to Cheryl’s tarnished community events. “We anticipate it being a clear success. Within just a few years this festival will rival every midsized fest out there, like Pilgrimage or Firefly back east, while establishing its own unique brand. Family-friendly. A chance for togetherness. We’re currently in talks to secure a major name headliner. Picture it—” She raised one hand, fingers splayed. “ Coachella North !”
Now a buzz of excitement carried from the teens on one side of the room and sparked across the rows of people.
But not everyone was on board, not even close. Harmony dropped her gaze to a pursed-lipped businessman a few seats over, her eye contact subconsciously granting him just the permission he needed to feel like speaking up. “How do a bunch of concertgoers descending on our town help strengthen the community?”
Harmony bathed him in her brightest smile. “I’m so glad you asked.” She slipped off her glasses and folded them. “I’ve managed several previous projects like this, and the heart of our operation is ensuring the local municipality and businesses have both a voice and interest in the execution and success of the festival.” She pointed with her glasses at the different elements in the crowd. Seniors. “Of course, the community-held values of coming together and culture.” Parents. “And we integrate with local schools to offer teen internships, where they can learn vital leadership skills working in a dynamic industry and in the fresh outdoors.” Business owners. “Importantly, we strive to use local merchants for as much of the festival’s needs as possible—restaurants and food trucks for catering and beverage services, merchandise, even printing and signage.” The deputy. “Security is hired from local off-duty peace officers, offering extra income.” That they would never actually see, of course, since the festival would never happen. Harmony only paid cops when she was bribing them.
Each group’s energy was palpable, adding to the swell of excitement building.
And then, right as she should have thrown all that momentum into a crescendo sealing the deal, leaving this meeting with an appointment with the mayor and the goodwill of the people, one of the council members jumped in. “This kind of event sounds expensive and risky.” The man to the right of Travis leaned back in his seat. “It would be a significant undertaking with unknown impacts.”
His sour note broke her spell. Other councilors began shuffling paperwork. Parents leaned over squirming children.
She was losing them.
Harmony didn’t panic. Like she always said: when they’re running you out of town on a rail, grab your baton and pretend you’re leading a parade. They’d end up following wherever you led.
“Of course,” she said with an easy smile, like it was her idea to pull back on her pitch. “It’s a major opportunity that deserves careful consideration.” She rocked back gently on her heels. “I’m still in the exploratory stages. I’ve focused the search on Brookville specifically, because other towns in the area have established centers of tourism—the spa in Heraldale, the winery scene in Cranton.” Both were nearby towns that Brookville existed in the shadow of, with no specific draw of its own. And the Heraldale Herons were the Brookville Bobcats’ biggest rivals. “Brookville has the closest access to SFO, but what’s more important is finding a location fully invested in being the home of this festival.” She made a little shrug, as if it didn’t matter to her much. As if her retribution on her father’s behalf wasn’t riding on these next few moments. “But maybe this offer would be more attractive to the council of Heraldale.”
The councilor who’d had Jordan’s back folded her hands under her chin. V. Newell, her placard read. “No—I’d like to hear more.”
Bless you, you’re a treasure, I love your hair . “Well,” Harmony dove back in with a patter too fast to interrupt again, “we use a cost-sharing model that ensures the community benefits from the success of the event.” And ensured, once she pulled the headliner switch-up, that Travis would be on the hook or see his town and reputation crushed. (Not that she wouldn’t still crush his reputation on her way out anyway.) “But businesses that participate directly with the festival aren’t the only winners; tourists will make a vacation of it before and after the actual concert, and for local retail, our previous festivals have produced an average sales increase that outpaces holiday shopping.” She delivered an assured look at the businessman who had questioned her before and threw him a bone. “One week of hosting concertgoers keeps the lights on the rest of the year.” He pulled the corners of his mouth down appraisingly, and she knew she had him. She was hitting that high of working her magic, that freewheeling place she loved to soar without a net, trusting herself to bring all her riffing and promises home eventually. “And the town’s newfound name recognition typically results in a healthy bump in year-round tourism, boosting hospitality and recreational sectors”—she paused finally, before hitting them with the keynote—“to say nothing of the town’s tax base.”
The councilors were almost all nodding now. V. Newell offered, “Perhaps when we next convene—”
Travis held up a hand. “We’d need to see documentation.”
Harmony let her widest smile unfurl at him. “I have all the figures and would be glad to go over them in more detail at your earliest convenience, tomorrow if you like—”
“I’d want to see all the details,” Travis emphasized. “The site, traffic impacts—”
Which meant she needed that land use lease signed yesterday. “I can get those for you.” Once she had the site locked down, she and Alice could get to work on the rest of the paperwork—some real, some not worth the expensive fees when she knew a good forger.
With a sharp nod, the man who’d stolen her father’s work invited her into his life. “Bring them along to my office whenever you do.”
Along with a world of pain, buddy. Harmony had to stop herself from jumping and clicking her Valentino heels. She could laugh maniacally in her hotel room later.
Travis glanced at the councilors to either side. “After tonight’s confusion, I think it’s best if we table the rest of the agenda items until we next convene.” He was probably worried what new chaos might break out if his wife tried addressing the council again.
No one objected. Even as people began gathering bags and children and chatted with each other, they were all still held in the echo of her spell, completely won over and ready to spread the good word of Harmony Hale and the festival through their town. But as Travis banged his goddamn gavel again, she felt a sharper gaze on her.
Preston was still turned in his seat, peering her way. Suspicious? That wouldn’t do. There were much more fun, less spoil-her-plan emotions he could be feeling about her. So Harmony waited a beat; then, with a demure glance away and back, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and bit her lip. Oh, you’re staring at little old me? Her smile escaped, turning wolfish. I’m flattered.
In the municipal fluorescent lighting, the ruddy blush that swept over Preston’s long, handsome face was marked. Now, that was more like it. Maybe some of the color was from frustration, as his brows zipped together, and he gave a little shake of his head before spinning back in his seat, flustered. But not all of it.
She definitely wanted to take advantage of that. Preston was certainly good-looking, in a straitlaced sort of way, so she’d assume he had a girlfriend—except surely he’d have popped up in the girlfriend’s social media if he did, and Harmony had been searching nonstop through anything tagged locally in preparation for tonight. Anyway, she wasn’t trying to marry the guy, just charm him long enough to get what she needed. See if now that she’d made her pitch he’d be open to discussing the use of his land.
But Alice had held up Travis and his wife at the double doors leading out of the chambers, as they’d arranged. Harmony couldn’t help taking the chance to look the mayor in the eye before knocking his lights out. Metaphorically. And Preston would have to get past her before he could run off again.
When Harmony neared the bottleneck at the door, Alice was rambling some nonsense about a pothole outside the coffee shop while Travis and Cheryl barely concealed their impatience. When Alice saw Harmony, she babbled, “Anyway, thanks, g’night!” and abruptly took off. Harmony was about to sweep in for a quick word, when Jordan DaCosta tried slipping back into the room.
“Ah, ah, ah!” Travis twirled a finger in the air. “Turn around, young lady.”
Jordan gestured at the kids still chatting around the table where their ABS president was sliding her notebook into her purse. “But we all drove together from school—”
“And you’re leaving alone,” Cheryl told her, shooing her back along with all the people streaming from the room. “I don’t want our kid spending any more time with you.” Harmony wondered which of the discount Regina Georges over there who’d snickered at Jordan’s protest was the Weavers’ pride and joy.
Travis shrugged. “Guess you’re walking.”
Jordan stood open-mouthed, looking suddenly young and vulnerable even in her choppy bangs and Green Day tee.
“That’s consequences.” Cheryl glanced around looking for agreement, falling on Harmony. “If people would only discipline their children, maybe they wouldn’t grow up so out of control.”
Travis noticed her there too and shook his head ruefully. “As exciting as your proposal is, with all the hands-on opportunities for young people,” he said, “I’m afraid nothing is going to change a troublemaker like that. Can’t teach an old dog not to holler.”
Harmony didn’t want to get on their wrong side, especially when they might be touchy about the VRcade fuss, but it was dark, and she didn’t know how far Jordan lived from downtown. “Still, as your lovely wife says, anything for the children.” She pulled a twenty from her purse and held it out to Jordan. “That should cover a lift home. Maybe spend the ride thinking about your actions.” Specifically, how awesome they were.
Jordan’s brows darted together uncertainly, before she grabbed the cash and left, muttering, “Thanks.”
Travis looked at Harmony with grudging thoughtfulness. At least throwing money around might pique his interest some more. “That’s awfully nice of you, Miss Hale.”
“Like I said, I’m hoping to make a real impact on the community.” She matched his gaze. “Never too soon to start.”
She didn’t get long to enjoy looking at Travis face to face, though, because behind him, just down the hallway where people were chatting in clumps or making their way out into the evening, Alice was half subtly, half frantically waving one hand and pointing with the other back inside the chambers. Harmony broke her gaze from Travis to glance over her shoulder, and almost swore. Along with a few others who must not have wanted to fight the crush at the main entrance, Preston was escaping out a back door she hadn’t known led outside.
Her librarian—and her path to revenge for her father—was getting away.