Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
The bell over the door of Turner Books gave a cheerful jingle as Madison stepped inside, brushing a hand down her navy blouse and trying not to look like she’d prepped for this meeting the way she used to prep for intelligence briefings.
A circle of women had already gathered in the back. The space held a long wooden table and mismatched chairs. A small table off to the side held a platter of lemon bars, squares of carrot cake, and a pitcher of iced tea.
“Madison!” Paige waved. “Welcome! Come sit by me.”
“What would you like to drink? We have an assortment of waters and teas,” Rosie offered.
“A bottle of water would be great. Thank you.”
Chloe gave her a cheerful nod from across the table, where she was flipping through a binder. “We heard you’re Garrett’s pinch hitter today.”
Madison laughed, sliding into the open seat beside Paige feeling a little less like the outsider she’d expected to be. “Only until he realizes I’m doing a better job.” The energy in the room reminded her—strangely—of a mission debrief, only this one came with cake.
Also seated around the table were Alexis Welby, local celebrity and home renovation queen (Madison had met Alexis at the Blue Ox a few nights ago and had gone home and binge-watched her DIY show); Elsie and Emma, retired twins in their seventies who purportedly ran this committee with more authority than most senate subcommittees; and Ruth, who had brought an entire tray of bars “just in case we run long.”
Madison accepted a bottled water and a lemon bar, determined to observe before jumping in.
Elsie tapped her pen against her legal pad. “All right, ladies—and Garrett’s proxy.” There were a few chuckles.
“What, no gavel today, sis?” Emma smirked.
“I couldn’t seem to find it.” Elsie glared at her twin.
Madison liked these two, maybe because she was a twin herself. She could tell they were fun.
“Let’s start with the Fourth of July festival,” Elsie said. “Initial thoughts?”
“I’d say we crushed it,” Rosie declared, reaching for a lemon bar. “I haven’t seen that many people on Main Street since prom night in ’92 when three schools all got rescheduled to the same weekend.”
General laughter followed.
“I think we could use more shaded seating,” Chloe added. “Especially near the music stage. People were frying like walleye in a fish shack.” Everyone nodded.
“I had someone ask about an art walk addition next year,” said Paige, flipping through a notepad. “Local artists lining the sidewalks, maybe some interactive stuff for kids.”
“Love that,” said Alexis. “Maggie will too. And a cooking demo. Someone asked me why we didn’t have a chili cook-off or pie contest.”
“Why would anyone want to eat chili on a hot, humid day?” Chloe asked. “However, I’m all for a pie contest.”
Madison jotted a few notes in the margin of the agenda, smiling at the quick wit and easy camaraderie. These weren’t just passive townspeople—they were sharp, observant, and deeply invested in their community.
Alexis leaned forward. “On a less festive note, I had another charge show up on my ledger yesterday—an ‘expedited inspection’ for a site visit I was never told about.”
Emma frowned. “Again?”
“You too?” Paige asked.
Madison straightened. “Wait. You’ve all had extra inspection fees? I visited the mayor on Monday and paid the inspection fee Garrett received. There is something going on.”
Rosie nodded. “Last month, my niece’s food truck was hit with a same-day invoice she couldn’t appeal. She paid cash so she could keep it running through the festival.”
“I had one for the loading dock reno,” Chloe added. “Morty said it was standard.”
“But there’s no paper trail,” Alexis said.
“I asked the county. There’s no formal permit change.
I know of at least two home builders in the area who also received invoices for a drive-by inspection.
These are added expenses we can’t absorb in our sometimes-tight budgets—especially when we don’t know about them ahead of time.
The contractor I asked said the inspector was from a ‘temporary compliance unit.’ ”
Madison’s instincts perked up. She set her notebook down slowly. “Did he give his name?”
“No,” Alexis said. “But when I asked, he said he was told that Mayor Benson would have the invoice record.”
“Except Morty doesn’t exactly return phone calls, and he’s conveniently in a meeting whenever I’ve stopped by,” Paige muttered.
Elsie nodded. “The last time I left him a message about the school crossing light, he texted back a shrug emoji.”
Madison looked around the table. “Are any of these charges documented officially?”
Paige shook her head. “Not that I’ve seen.”
Madison’s voice was calm, even. “Then they’re not real permits.”
Rosie raised a brow. “You’re sure?”
“I’ve seen plenty of fast-and-loose tactics,” Madison said. “This smells like a back-pocket scam—just enough official language to scare people into paying.”
“We never had drive-by inspections when I was mayor. Never even heard of them.” Elsie said.
“So, what do we do?” Alexis asked.
Ruth leaned toward Madison. “You used to handle this kind of thing, right?”
“More or less,” Madison said carefully. “But yeah. I know how to read a bad pattern.”
“Are you thinking what we’re thinking?” Paige asked.
Madison smiled slowly. “That maybe Deer Creek Falls has a funding leak no one’s patched?”
Elsie sat back, pleased. “Garrett should miss meetings more often.”
“Don’t tell him that,” Chloe said, grinning.
Madison leaned forward, thinking. “Let me ask around. Quietly. I’ll start with some of the contractors in town to see if they’ve noticed a pattern.” And just like that, something shifted. Not just a sense of belonging, but a mission she hadn’t known she needed.
Chloe grinned. “Garrett’s going to love that.”
“He told me to attend this meeting,” Madison said, after sipping her water. “I’m just being thorough.”
As the meeting continued, Madison took notes, asked questions, and let herself enjoy the rhythm of collaboration. These women were strategists, doers, and protectors of a town they loved, and she was going to help them get to the bottom of this corruption.
When the meeting ended, Paige nudged Madison’s arm.
“Some of us usually head to the Eagle’s Nest on Thursday nights for a cocktail, or in my case,”—she placed a hand on her stomach—“a mocktail, and a little town gossip. Want to join us?”
Madison hesitated, then smiled. “Yeah. I’d like that.”