Chapter 8 #2
He surveyed the room. Damian and his assistant were nowhere in sight.
Still filming in Chitina probably. Poor Scottie.
What a long day. His feelings for her made this whole situation extra complicated.
What would she think of him campaigning against her reason for being here? He scrubbed his hand over his face.
Mrs. Dawkins, sitting two seats away, was making her opinions well known. “This so-called quest to find the ultimate Alaskan is irresponsible. Reckless.”
A few people murmured in agreement.
“Oh, it’s just for entertainment. You know that. These Hollywood types can’t be the ultimate Alaskan,” Laura, who owned the gift shop on Main Street, said. “Besides, we need the publicity.”
“Publicity?” Mrs. Dawkins barked out a laugh, then pulled her leopard-print cardigan tighter around her. “We’re already the town that nearly got washed out to sea. You want the whole lower forty-eight to see us as a punchline too?”
The room stirred, voices rising. Tate pulled out his phone and scrolled through his notes. He wasn’t supposed to give a speech. He didn’t plan to speak at all. Mostly just wanted to attend a meeting as an observer. Hear what folks had to say.
“Well, I’ll tell you one thing that would make this town better is if Gary Sheridan would do his part to help with ongoing recovery efforts,” Laura said.
Oh boy. The air in the room shifted. The rumble of voices grew louder.
Tate glanced at Hank and Willa. A muscle in Hank’s cheek jumped, and he sat up a little straighter in his chair.
Willa kneaded the muscles at the base of his neck.
Hank typically stayed out of dicey conversations.
He and Willa were known for being two of the sweetest people around.
Nobody wanted to tangle with Mrs. Dawkins.
Or Laura. But it wasn’t right that she’d attacked Gary. The guy wasn’t here to defend himself.
Gary had been the only one to receive his settlement from the oil company after the ’89 spill, and half the town still wasn’t over it. There were lots of big loud opinions about how he should spend the money.
“Lainey’s really got her hands full, taking care of him and running that bed-and-breakfast.” Laura shook her head. “Too much to ask of one person.”
“And now her stepsister’s back,” Mrs. Dawkins said. “Those two get along about as well as oil and water.”
Tate bit back a groan. What a poor choice of words. He couldn’t just stand by and let these two run their mouths. “Ladies, hi. How are you? I couldn’t help but overhear what you said. Have you considered volunteering to help Lainey or Scottie care for Gary?”
Mrs. Dawkins and Laura swiveled in their chairs, mouths turned into U-shaped frowns.
The room went silent.
His heart hammered.
Mrs. Dawkins tipped her chin up. “Tate, so nice of you to join us. Since we hear you’re nominated for the empty seat on the council, tell us—should we allow outsiders to trample through town? Or is it time somebody finally took a stand?”
“You’re going to need to prove you can handle yourself,” Laura said, her green eyes flashing. “What’s your plan? Or are you going to sit back and let someone else hash out our future?”
The chamber quieted. All eyes locked on him. If he didn’t respond, he’d look weak. But if he spoke out publicly against the show, he risked disrupting Scottie’s job.
A gavel tapped on the table at the front of the room.
“Folks, I apologize for the delay.” Doug Lyons, Redemption’s mayor, sat down and slid his reading glasses into place.
“I now call this meeting to order. If time allows, we’ll open the floor for further discussion at the end of the meeting.
Right now, the first item on the agenda is policies and procedures regarding a waiting list for a slip in the harbor. ”
A young woman sitting next to Tate leaned closer. “You’ve got your work cut out for you. That Joanna Peters is a force to be reckoned with.”
Tate hesitated. “Who?”
The woman lowered her voice. “Oh, she moved here just about a year ago. Her husband’s the woodshop teacher and wrestling coach. She posted on social media today that she’s running.”
“Good to know,” Tate said. “Thanks.”
“I was in the café this afternoon and I heard Zeke Moeller say he plans to run as well. Only needs eight more signatures on his petition,” she said. “Just FYI.”
Before he could respond, his phone buzzed against his thigh. Once. Twice. A text from Luke lit the screen.
Luke
Van wreck. Scottie was in it. Everyone’s mostly okay but the vehicle is totaled. She and four others need a ride back. They’re on the highway about twenty miles this side of Chitina. Can you go?
His chest clamped tight. Scottie—hurt? He reread the text. What did “mostly okay” mean? He looked up. Hank glanced back at him, his brows raised in concern.
Tate surveyed the room. The mayor and another council member were still going over the issue with the boat harbor slips.
If he stayed, he’d demonstrate that he had a vested interest in the issues Redemption wrestled with.
And Mrs. Dawkins and Laura were right. Voters needed to see if he had the backbone to lead.
But then someone else would have to help get Scottie home.
He couldn’t possibly let her sit stranded, miles from Redemption. So now he had to decide what mattered most.