Gabe #2
“So you want me to—” I studied the page for day one. It listed seventeen tasks, each with a blank box beside it for me to check off.
“Boots-on-the-ground diplomacy,” Sabrina said. “You’re the mayor, the face of this. Start with the farms. We created a schedule for you based on location and importance to the project.”
“Wow them,” Nina encouraged, though her tone was still flat. “With innovation and a plan for fixing things.”
“And give us authorization to buy the tech,” Harper shouted.
“Word will spread that you’re reaching out. That you’re listening and taking steps to fix the problems we’re having,” Nina explained.
“Make sure the farmers all sign the releases we printed out,” Sabrina said.
“Once we get the social strategy in place, we can move onto phase two.”
“What’s phase two?” I asked, my head spinning.
“Direct-to-consumer sales and branding,” Laurie announced. “Our farmers and artisans can’t depend on bulk seasonal sales. It isn’t sustainable. We have a few programs in mind to build recurring income through subscriptions.”
“Subscriptions?” I asked. “For syrup?”
“And cheese.”
“And potentially honey, jam, and handmade crafts,” Marigold chirped.
“People love getting monthly deliveries. And Isla Fitzgerald has a background in shipping and receiving. We plan to talk to her about forming a co-op that farmers and producers can opt into so they can sell on a recurring basis.”
I scratched my head, my mind spinning. How would all of this work? “You think people are going to pay for monthly syrup deliveries?”
Laurie blinked at me. “Yes.”
“City people will pay for anything ‘artisanal,’” Nina said flatly.
“And they will want these limited-edition products because by the time we’re ready to start shipping, they will love Maplewood and want to own a piece of us,” Harper said.
“If our social strategy works, not only will we drive people to visit, but they’ll develop emotional attachments to our brand.
With that connection, it shouldn’t be terribly difficult to sell the products produced by our farmers and small businesses. ”
“Come on, Gabe,” Marigold said, stomping her cane on the floor. “It’s synergy.”
I laughed. Actually barked out a laugh. A ninety-year-old woman was lecturing me about synergy?
“It’ll also be a big old fuck-you to Birch Hollow,” she said. “And at the end of the day, isn’t that what we all want?”
Every person at the table nodded sagely.
“Oh shit,” the woman on the phone almost shouted.
A door slammed and a dog barked in the background, and when she spoke again, her tone was urgent.
“I forgot to tell you. George Redgrave bought the biggest estate in Birch Hollow last week. A four-million-dollar property. Gated, cameras, panic room, helipad, the works. One of those ‘I know where the bodies are buried’ types of places.”
“Who’s that?” Sabrina asked.
“Chief finance officer at Arcadian Biotech,” Meg said.
Sabrina’s eyes widened. “They own AgriNova.”
My mind flashed to conversations I’d had with Josh not all that long ago. A guy named McDevitt pressuring local farmers to try some new product. Rumors of some kind of partnership with Sugar Moon Maple. Reports from Canada about yield issues last year.
“It’s not that suss,” Nina said easily. “Fancy rich people buy weekend and ski properties up here all the time.”
Birch Hollow, which paled in comparison to Maplewood in every other way, had one major advantage. It was within twenty minutes of several of the top ski resorts in the state.
“Yes.” Meg’s typing echoed from the speakerphone. “But this isn’t ‘random exec. buys ski chalet.’ This is more ‘shady finance bro quietly acquires strategic asset.’ Different genre altogether.”
More typing, the speed of which was impressive.
“And,” she continued, “he also invested in the new hotel in town. He bought a boat for the lake. And, two months ago, he made a five-figure donation to a very specific cause.”
“Donation?” I asked.
Meg hummed. “To the Birch Hollow Maple Festival Committee.”
“But they only moved the festival a couple of weeks ago,” Laurie said innocently.
All around the room, eyes darted from person to person.
“Motherfucker,” Marigold shouted. “They were in on it.”
“The town has the cyber security infrastructure of a middle school drama club, so I’ll keep digging. I should have no trouble getting a clear picture—”
“Nothing illegal.” I was still working to process all this information, and knowing that the change of venue had been set in motion for a lot longer than I’d realized knocked me back a little.
So many parts of this were connected. The festival. The agro products. A four-million-dollar property.
What the hell? We were just a small town in Vermont.
“I’m insulted,” Meg said. “I operate within nuanced legal framework.”
I dragged a hand over my face. “What does that mean?”
She let out a sigh. “It means I don’t do anything that would trigger a grand jury indictment. I may cause concern and tiptoe in ethical gray areas, but not enough to convict.”
Nina snorted. Marigold’s brows shot up like she was impressed.
“My methods are flexible,” Meg explained. “And I once helped a Sicilian municipality recover three years of tax revenue stolen by the mafia, so technically I’m a public servant.”
I cringed. “I don’t want to know what that took.”
“Hacking a foreign government is easier than you’d think,” Sabrina explained, as if that would make me feel batter.
“They emailed me a thank-you note,” Meg said cheerfully. “And a twenty-pound wheel of aged Parmesan. So we’re good.”
Good? I wasn’t so sure. In fact, panic had set in. What had I gotten myself, and this town, into?
“I’ll just poke around. See if anything was accidentally left unlocked,” Meg continued.
“Focus on your to-do list, Mayor,” Laurie said with a smile. “We’ve got the rest covered here.”
“I’m not sure I can tackle all this.” The weight of the binder in my hands was suddenly overwhelming. “I’ve still got a job.”
“You do,” Sabrina responded without hesitation. “This. This is your job now.” She met my gaze, her dark eyes unflinching. “Your job is to save the town.”
I looked around the room and sighed. Everyone here was working around the clock. Giving up their lives and their time in service of Maplewood.
For so many years, I’d felt alone. Like I was single-handedly in charge of keeping this place afloat.
But it was more apparent than ever in this moment that I was just one cog in a big wheel. And a lot of people needed that wheel to spin smoothly.
Sabrina patted me hard on the shoulder. “I suggest you get started.”