18. Miles
18
MILES
J ackson sauntered into my office. He looked as if he was the cat that got both the cream and the canary. He was even humming.
“What’s gotten into you today?” I asked. “Or should I ask who have you gotten into?”
He smirked and shook his head.
“This is satisfying, but not that satisfying.” He cut a quick glance over his shoulder. “Don’t let her hear you saying anything like that. You’ll have an HR report up your ass for harassment.”
It was my turn to shake my head. “I know better than to say shit within earshot. But you do look very self-sure this afternoon. If it wasn’t a little dirty action during lunch, what’s up?”
Jackson sat in one of the low chairs in the conversation area. He propped his feet on the coffee table and crossed his ankles. “You’re going to want to give me a raise.”
“Unless you are delivering property title deeds, you’re dreaming about that raise,” I said as I crossed my office and joined him on the more comfortable chairs.
He laced his fingers together and put his hands behind his head. “I’ve made friends in small-town places.”
“I’m intrigued,” I admitted. “Are you going to tell me, or do I have to coax it from you?”
“Pour me a drink and I will spill it all,” he said.
“You sound like a cheap date,” I said as I pushed to my feet. I poured two bourbons on the rocks and handed Jackson one of them.
“I have an insider in Brookdale. And I didn’t even have to play super spy and seduce them,” he said as he took a sip.
“Impressive,” I said. I rubbed my hands together eagerly. “Give me everything.”
“The guy would love nothing more than to sell out and get out of there. Says the winters are too much for his old bones. But he also knows if no one else sells, then he’s got no hope of selling his place. And he can’t afford to relocate someplace warm on what he knows he would get if he put his home on the open market.”
“Sounds like a motivated customer.”
Jackson shook his head slowly from side to side. “You thought the kids wanted to get out of that town. Nope, it’s the people on the other end of the work spectrum. The retirees want out. The kids have romantic delusions of that town. They think it could become something that the older generation just doesn’t believe is possible.”
I let out a long breath. Romantic delusions that described Lydia perfectly. She had dreams of making her little hometown something straight out of the movies, perfectly picturesque, quaint, and full of eccentric characters.
They were well on their way to filling out the character list for a show. They had a waitress at the local diner who called everyone hun and served the best damned cherry pie I'd had in my life. I should not have been so impressed with a fruity dessert that didn’t involve alcohol.
The librarian wore thick glasses and dressed like she was eighty, while it was clear she was only in her mid-twenties. If she was thirty, color me surprised. Behind her thick glasses and geriatric fashion choices, she wasn’t unattractive—just not my type. The librarian was already the prime candidate for the town sleuth.
Of course, the local inn was run by the town goddess. She was sweet and sexy and probably didn’t realize how stunning she really was. And if Brookdale was a show, she would have a man who knew exactly how special she was. He would not take her for granted and would do everything he could to make her smile.
For some reason, I could picture myself as that man. My character would only wear jeans, those yellow Timberland boots, flannel shirts, and baseball caps. The shirts would always be red, unless there was something special happening and then they would be blue.
Of course, there was the mayor who tossed up decorations around town for any reason possible. All Brookdale needed was a soundtrack and a plot twist to get everyone together and organized. They needed a murder mystery, or to come together to fight off the… well, fuck.
They were coming together to fight off the big city corporation that wanted to swoop in and change everything. I was not thrilled to identify JM Carlisle Group as the big city bad guy in this scenario.
My mood soured immediately. I took a long pull on my drink. I much preferred myself as the love interest and not the evil corporation coming in to destroy everything.
With a quick shake of my head that rolled down into my shoulders, I shook off the daydream of Brookdale as some kind of movie or weekly television show. This was reality, not TV. And in the real world, real estate development brought good changes. Opening a resort in the town of Brookdale would not only change the economic landscape of the town, but of the region.
I wasn’t the bad guy. But I also wasn’t the flannel wearing handyman who got the girl.
“Miles?” Jackson called my name, pulling me out of my reverie.
I blinked a few times and let my vision return to what was in front of me. Jackson. He no longer looked so cocky and smug, but was that confusion and concern I saw?
“What did this contact tell you?” I asked, ignoring the expression I saw on his face.
“They’ve been holding what amounts to town meetings. Apparently, everyone has been showing up.”
“You said meetings? More than one?”
Jackson nodded. “Apparently, they had one meeting where the mayor shared our plans, and he even mentioned the new post office and equipment. People had so many questions, they ended up having to roll everything into a second meeting.”
“Questions?”
“Yeah. It seems like people are very interested in the benefits the resort might bring. We might actually have ground swell. Most of the homeowners are older, and they are apparently interested.”
“According to your source,” I said.
“Exactly, according to my source. Also, there seemed to be serious interest in the jobs the resort would bring in. Lots of questions as to the types of jobs available. Of course, the mayor and his committee?—”
“Committee?”
“They have a newly formed historical preservation group. Apparently, that’s who hosted these meetings.”
I started to laugh. “The historical group hosted a town meeting and instead of raising pitchforks and torches to come after us, they got people asking about jobs and timetables. I love it.”
I wasn’t the bad guy, after all. No, I was the charming out of towner who would come in and save the day. My vision would bring in jobs and give an older generation a chance to enjoy their last days instead of being financially trapped in a place that no longer served their needs.
And I would take away the one thing that Lydia seemed to love above all else. The town would sing my praises, but if I were being honest with myself, Lydia was never going to forgive me for leveling her beloved Sweet Mountain Inn.
“Did you get a sense of how receptive they would be if we went up and made a more formal presentation?” I asked. “Maybe if they get the details from us directly. We are better positioned to be able to answer a lot more of their questions. Reach out to the mayor, see if he’s open to a town meeting with us.”
Jackson shrugged. He was still nursing his drink. “I’m under the impression that the mayor is still Team Save The Old Buildings. I don’t know how receptive he would be to putting us in front of everyone,” Jackson said.
“You think he might stab us in the backs if the town starts cheering us on?” I asked.
“I don’t think the mayor has enough personal fortitude for something like that. But that little librarian, certainly. She scares me. I wouldn’t put it past her to either sabotage us or literally sink a real knife in. She’s vicious and is prepared to fight to the death for that library of hers,” Jackson pointed out.
He wasn’t wrong, and I expected Lydia would be the same, fiercely protective over her property and not welcoming if we came up to make a presentation.
I set my empty glass on the coffee table before standing. I paced around the seating area before crossing the office to stare out the window. “We can wait to see if your contact up there reports any other meetings while we can continue to move forward.”
“Forward?” Jackson asked.
“I have a feeling we’re going to need more investors. Maybe if we flash higher buying prices at the homeowners, they’ll be willing to sell.”
“Is throwing more money at Brookdale really the answer? What if we started researching some other towns in the region?” Jackson asked.
“No,” I snapped. “Brookdale. It needs to be Brookdale.”