4. Ethan
ETHAN
Dawn light trickled through my shop windows in thin stripes, dust motes floating in the pale glow as I tightened the final bolt.
The wrench clicked against metal, a sound as familiar as my own heartbeat.
Outside, Cedar Hills still slept, but here in my garage the day had begun: oil-stained concrete, the sharp smell of engine grease, the satisfaction of a job almost done.
I slid out from under the truck, wiped my hands on a rag, and examined my work.
I closed the hood with a gentle push and remembered yesterday’s drive with Lena Mercer.
She had measured the overlook path precisely but then paused at my father’s bench.
When I told her about Dad’s last visit, I swore something had softened around her eyes.
Even if it was just for a moment. I shook that thought away, recalling the look on her face when I had pulled her out of the way of that sedan.
She had been mad.
At me.
As if I hadn’t just saved her life.
I glanced at my watch: 6:42 AM. I had time to finish the paperwork and maybe grab a real breakfast instead of the granola bar in my desk. I was halfway to my office when the front door swung open. The bell chimed, and a man’s silhouette filled the doorway.
“Morning, Ethan. Hope I’m not too early,” said Mayor Dale Marner. His silver hair was combed neatly to one side and he was wearing pressed khakis and a crisp button-down.
“Morning, Dale,” I replied, wiping my hands again though they were clean. “Officially I don’t open for another hour.”
He smiled, eyes crinkling. I had known Dale since I was a kid scraping knees on the playground he built thirty years ago. Before he was Mayor he had taught science and auto class. That’s where I first learned to respect what’s under a hood.
“Coffee?” I offered, nodding toward my office.
“Please.” He followed me to the small room off the main garage and settled into the chair across from my desk while I poured two cups. “Heard you took our consultant to the overlook.”
“News travels fast.”
“In our town, everything does,” he said. “When Mark’s wife is Carol’s cousin, nothing stays secret.” He sipped his coffee. “People around here seem mighty suspicious about her, and her plans for the town.”
“Seems to me, they have good reason to be,” I replied. “Hopefully seeing things first hand gives her a chance to change her perspective. Though, I wouldn’t bet your house on it.”
Dale set his mug down and reached into his jacket. He produced a manila folder stamped with the town seal. “The council met last night in a special session.”
I hesitated. “About the road?”
“About the management of the whole project.” He opened the folder and pushed it across my desk. “We want a local liaison for Ms. Mercer’s study. Someone who knows the road, understands its importance, and can communicate with her.”
I picked up the folder. It felt heavier than it looked. “And what’s this got to do with me?”
“You know every inch of that road, how it shifts with the seasons, where the trouble spots are. You’ve pulled cars from ditches, helped stranded drivers for decades. And you care about doing it right.”
I took a sip of coffee and felt it go bitter. “I’m a mechanic, not an engineer or a politician. Besides, communicating with that woman can be downright infuriating, if it’s possible at all.”
Dale leaned forward. “You’re more than that and we both know it. I may be the Mayor in this town, but I’m hardly the person everyone looks to when things go wrong. You want the best for Cedar Hills and that road. If anyone is going to be a voice for this town with that woman, it oughta be you.”
A quiet pride settled into my stomach at his comment, but apprehension quickly followed.
I stood and walked to the window, watching Mrs. Donnelly’s truck waiting outside. The faded blue paint held decades of scars. I turned back. “What would this involve?”
He relaxed. “Regular meetings with Ms. Mercer, reviewing her plans from a local perspective, helping arrange community input, and speaking up when something doesn’t make sense. Fifteen hours a week, with fair pay. Details are in the folder.”
Regular meetings with her. Oh, that was just wonderful.
I thumbed through the pages, duties, schedules, reporting requirements, compensation that wouldn’t make me rich but could help with parts costs. My shoulders slumped under the folder’s weight.
“I’m not saying yes yet,” I told him. “I need time to think. I’ve got enough on my plate as it is.”
“That’s fair,” Dale said. He tapped his mug and stood. “But don’t think too long. Ms. Mercer doesn’t strike me as a woman that takes her time doing anything. If you want a say, might as well be official.”
“Think about it,” Dale said, patting my shoulder. “Let me know by the end of day.”
After he left I stood alone, folder in hand.
Outside birds sang in the maple tree, a distant school bus whistle sounded.
Normal rhythms of the town I knew inside out.
I opened the folder again and read the final line: “To serve as an advocate for the community’s interests while facilitating practical solutions that enhance safety.
” That was it. Not just complaining, but shaping what came next.
It sure sounded pretty, all wrapped up like that, but I knew better than to think that it would be easy. Ms. Mercer was not going to like having a babysitter, and plain and simple, that was what this job would make me.
A bit later, the screen door of Kline’s General Store creaked as I pushed it open.
Inside cool air carried the scent of coffee, newspaper ink, and peppermint candies in a glass jar by the register.
I had meant to get coffee and a muffin from Mrs. Kline, but I stopped when I saw Lena Mercer leaning over a ledger.
She had switched yesterday’s field clothes for a crisp blue button-down and dark slacks but still wore sturdy boots. Her fingers traced decades of traffic counts in Mrs. Kline’s neat handwriting. Mrs. Kline had been tracking vehicles from her window since before I was born.
“Morning,” I said. Both women looked up. Mrs. Kline smiled knowingly and Lena offered a small nod.
“Mr. Talbot,” Lena said, straightening.
“Ethan,” I corrected her. “Looks like Mrs. Kline’s sharing her records.”
Mrs. Kline adjusted her glasses. “She was kind enough to wait while I brushed all of the dust off of them, I figured it would be wrong not to.”
“They’re detailed,” Lena said. “Seasonal changes, vehicle types. Data the state misses. I’m thoroughly impressed.”
“Forty-three years of watching, sometimes being nosy pays off,” Mrs. Kline replied.
That got a small chuckle out of Lena, and it stunned me for a moment. I hadn’t known she was capable of laughing.
“I’m glad I ran into you, actually.” I turned my words over in my head, trying to find the right way to bring up the liaison position.
“Are you?” I bit my lip at the tone of her words. Clearly she’d taken that the wrong way.
“Not that I’m not normally–. I, well. I just meant, the mayor asked me to be the local liaison for your project. Thought it was something you might like to talk about.”
Lena blinked. “What exactly made them think I need a liaison? Did you accept?”
“Told him I needed some time to think. Wanted to walk through the logistics with you. Think they just want to make sure the town gets a vote here.”
“And something about my work so far has given them the impression that they won’t?”
Mrs. Kline cleared her throat. “You two should take this outside, the kids will be along for their breakfasts in a moment. Use that barrel by the bench.” She handed us two cups of coffee. “On the house. Working meetings deserve proper coffee.”
Outside the morning sun had cleared the chill. Lena spread her revised plans on the old cable spool Mrs. Kline mentioned. She had secured the corners with metal clips and pointed to the technical drawings.
“I’ve been looking at some possibilities for the road.
This is the one I’m most favorable of at the moment.
The widening is gone,” she said. “Instead, targeted improvements. The upper bend gets banking correction and better sight lines. A separate pedestrian path to the overlook, with a stone barrier.”
I traced the path. “You kept the access path.”
“With better grading and discreet lighting,” she said. “This barrier will guide drainage without eroding the hill.”
“And construction?”
She flipped to a timeline. “Better to get it done in a straight shot. More cost effective that way.”
I noticed a note. “Maybe for the state, but not for the people that live here. They need to be able to keep their businesses running while this happens.”
“I’m sure they can work around things,” she said. She pointed to another note. “I can’t redesign the entire schedule to accommodate every individual business.”
“Do you not hear how callous that sounds? These people rely on the money they make to feed their families.”
“I understand that, but I can’t recommend work arounds to the state that are going to overburden the budgets because of dairy deliveries.”
“You and I both know that it is more than that, just like you know that there’s got to be some wiggle room. A way you can get the construction done, without upending the livelihoods of the shops around here.”
“I make no promises. Can we meet tomorrow?”
“I’m free after four. Shop closes early Wednesdays.”
She nodded and walked away, towing the portfolio under her arm. Mark appeared in the doorway, eyebrows raised.
“Official town business,” I told him when he gave me a knowing look.
“Miracles never cease,” he said. “Coffee’s fresh inside.”
I followed him in but my mind stayed on those plans. On the way you could see the gears turning behind Lena’s blue eyes. The way her forehead scrunched in concentration when she was trying to work something out. The steady way her foot tapped as she worked.
She was on my mind more than I’d like to admit through the rest of my day. The image of her a steady pulse in my mind as I worked.
How could she be so cold when it came to these people?
It was just a bit after four when I reached Marianne’s café. Main Street was sunbaked, shopkeepers deployed awnings and displays, and Marianne propped the door open to lure passersby with the smell of fresh bread. I spotted Lena beside the weathered bench where Old Man Simmons told fishing tales.
“Right on time,” she said, glancing at her watch. She was in dark slacks and a light blouse, wearing a vest for the summer heat. A tablet glowed in her hand.
“I thought we’d walk the route to the upper bend,” I said. “Best way to see traffic flow is to watch how people actually use it.”
She tucked the tablet into her satchel. “Lead the way.”
Halfway down the block we passed Mrs. Alvarez watering flower boxes. She knelt under a wide-brimmed hat, coaxing snapdragons and marigolds.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Alvarez.”
She squinted up. “Ethan Talbot, my truck is making that noise again.”
“I’ll look at it tomorrow,” I promised, chuckling.
Mrs. Alvarez studied Lena. “You are a godsend, Ethan. You, young lady, should be ashamed of yourself. Putting all of these hardworking people out of business.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way Ma’am. I can assure you I’m doing my best to avoid that,” Lena replied.
I had to hide my chuckle when Mrs. Alvarez turned up her nose and pointedly ignored Lena. Her eyebrows shot up into her forehead, and a subtle pout settled into her lips.
“Those boxes mark parking spaces,” I pointed out. “Painted lines wore away in winter. Mrs. Alvarez’s boxes show visitors where to park. She’s lived in this town her whole life, watched all of the locals grow up on these roads. She gets cranky around newcomers. Most of the folks around here do.”
Lena’s eyes flickered up to me. “Well, she didn’t have to be so rude about it. I’m only trying to do my job.”
“And these people are trying to live, the only way they know how. Your job changes that for them, makes it harder.”
We passed the newspaper rack at the post office where a small crowd gathered.
“Eleven o’clock rush,” I said. “Gazette arrives Wednesdays and Saturdays. We can’t close Main then because routines depend on it.”
“We? Does that mean you are accepting the position?”
I studied her for a moment. “Seems to me you could use the help. At least as far as avoiding pissing off all the old-timers around here goes.”
Lena watched people chatting as they collected papers, but didn’t reply.
“A lot of community interaction around here,” she observed.
“Exactly. The bench outside town hall is the same. Kids wait there after the bus at 3:15, parents pick them up at 3:30.”
We paused under the maple tree. Lena noted sightlines and potential hazards.
“Your road project affects all of this,” I said. “Disrupt the wrong spot at the wrong time and you disrupt lives.”
“Yes, I know. I heard you the fifth time, and every time you’ve said it after that,” she snapped as she continued scribbling notes.
I ignored her snark and checked my watch. “In thirty seconds or so the bakery will get its flour delivery, then two minutes later the pharmacy.”
A delivery truck pulled up in front of the bakery just as I predicted. A second one arrived at the pharmacy.
“They coordinate so they don’t block each other. Even in winter they maneuver past snow banks.”
Lena watched the choreography. “Wow. You would not expect things to be so structured in a place like this.”
We reached the hardware store’s widened sidewalk. Lena turned to me.
“As liaison, what role do you see for yourself?” she asked.
I met her gaze. “I help translate your technical plans into terms town residents understand. I answer your questions but won’t hover.
Help come up with opportunities to schmooze things over with the residents.
We’ve got a festival coming up for the 4th of July, for instance.
Would be a good opportunity for research, and a bit of fun as well. ”
“And if we disagree about things along the way?”
“We discuss it. I need to know you’ll consider local input, not just check a box.”
She nodded slowly. “Fine. I’ll tell you when we can’t implement suggestions.”
“Deal.”
“I may need your technical expertise,” she added. “You understand engineering concepts better than most.”
“My father taught me how things work,” I said.
She extended her hand. “So, we’re agreed? You guide locally, I stay transparent and consider alternatives when warranted.”
Her hand was firm as we shook, but a part of me wondered if this wasn’t all a moot point. Lena Mercer didn’t care any more about this town than any other she’d worked in. Why in the world would I think I could change that?
“Agreed,” I said, mostly because backing down then just felt wrong.