The Man Harbor Cove Remembers #2
"Good," Emily called back. "Make it a note."
Nathan took in the clipboard tabs, the rain on her sleeve, the bank logo behind her in the mud. She wasn't only busy. She was triaging in public, and every bystander believed concern counted as assistance.
"I saw the banner," he said.
"Temporary gravity issue."
"And the sponsor email?"
Her eyes narrowed. "I don't remember adding you to that list."
"You didn't. The bank did, indirectly. The Inn review affects community confidence. Community confidence affects Atlantic Coast. Atlantic Coast affects your festival."
"A tidy chain. Did it come laminated?"
"Three emails and a call from their risk officer."
Her mouth tightened. Not fear. Calculation.
"Then un-call him," she said.
"That's not how risk officers work."
"Fine. Un-help."
Leo coughed into his coffee.
Nathan looked at Emily more carefully. Most people in town had looked at his folder first. Emily had looked at his hands, his shoes, the car across the street, the bank banner, Leo, then his face. Inventory, not admiration.
Useful quality. Irritating delivery.
"You think I'm here to take advantage of your festival problem," he said.
"I think you're here for the Inn, and the Inn has never been separate from this town's problems." She shifted the clipboard under her arm. "I also think men with folders tend to call things opportunities when everyone else is still mopping."
Leo made a low sound. "Clean hit."
"Not helping," Nathan said.
"No, but accurate."
Emily's phone buzzed. She glanced down, then ignored it. "Are you planning to tear it down?"
"No."
"Condos?"
"No."
"Luxury wedding venue that charges local people to look at their own shoreline?"
"No."
"That's three noes. Harbor Cove will expect paperwork."
"Harbor Cove can attend the public review."
"Harbor Cove will attend the public review whether invited or not."
A teenage volunteer approached with a coil of wet rope. "Emily, Pete says he can fix the banner if you let him use the ladder."
"Tell Pete he can use the city-approved ladder from the maintenance shed or explain workers' comp to the mayor."
"He said the maintenance ladder has bad vibes."
"Tell him lawsuits have worse vibes."
The teenager nodded solemnly and jogged away.
Nathan looked toward the festival arch. "You need money."
Emily turned back to him. "That's quite an opening line."
"It's an observation."
"From a man everyone is watching to see whether he brought a checkbook or a wrecking ball."
"If I wanted public approval, I would have brought muffins."
"You underestimate Chloe's standards."
"Apparently I got free coffee."
Emily glanced at the cup in his hand. "That's not approval. That's surveillance."
A laugh escaped Leo before he could disguise it.
Nathan set the coffee on the café's outdoor table. "I can make a call to Atlantic Coast."
Emily went still like a person who had found a cracked board and was deciding whether to step around it or mark it with tape.
"No," she said.
"You haven't heard the offer."
"I heard enough nouns."
"If the bank is questioning sponsor release, a private guarantee could buy time."
"And attach your name to my festival before the town has finished deciding whether to boo you in public?"
"It's already attached. The Inn review is in the same board packet."
"Then let's not staple it harder."
He had expected suspicion. He hadn't expected refusal to be this organized.
"You're protecting optics," he said.
"I'm protecting the festival."
"From help."
"From becoming the welcome mat you wipe your reputation on."
Leo stopped pretending to drink coffee.
Chloe, still in the doorway, said, "I have biscotti if this becomes a formal hearing."
Emily didn't look away from Nathan. The set of her shoulders gave away the morning, but she had disciplined the rest of herself into motion. She wasn't being reckless. She was doing math that excluded the easiest money because easy money came with hooks.
He respected the math.
He didn't enjoy being one of the hooks.
"My inspection starts in fifteen minutes," he said. "If the Inn is unsalvageable, this conversation changes."
"The Inn has survived storms, three bad owners, a raccoon in the linen closet, and your father. Don't flatter your inspection."
Aunt Mabel appeared from nowhere on the sidewalk, a skill Nathan remembered from childhood. She wore a festival visor and carried a tote bag full enough to contain either paperwork or evidence.
"Nathan Brooks," she said, pleased and dangerous. "Well. I suppose Harbor Cove does get dramatic reveals."
"Mrs. Whitcomb."
"Mabel, dear. I'm old enough to be informal and young enough to weaponize it." Her gaze zipped from Nathan to Emily, then Leo, then Chloe. "Are we arguing or negotiating?"
"Neither," Emily said.
"Shame. Both photograph better than banner repair."
Nathan checked his watch. If he didn't leave now, he would be late to his own inspection, which was amateur. If he left without answering Emily, she would decide his silence confirmed something. If he offered help again, she might hit him with the clipboard.
Not physically, probably.
"I'll be at the Inn until four," he said. "Public review materials go to Town Hall after that. If your bank problem becomes arithmetic instead of politics, call Leo. He has my number."
"My problems are rarely that polite," Emily said.
"Then call when they're impolite."
Her expression changed by a fraction. Not appreciation. More like she had heard a door click open and disliked where it led.
"Mr. Brooks," she said.
"Ms. Hart."
He turned toward the Inn with Leo beside him.
They had taken six steps when Mabel's voice carried behind them, bright enough to cross the street.
"Emily, dear, did Nathan just offer to save the festival?"
Nathan stopped.
Emily answered too fast. "No."
Chloe said, "Define save."
Leo looked at Nathan. "That's going to be a version by dinner."
Nathan looked back once. Emily stood under the crooked festival arch with the damaged bank banner behind her, one hand on her clipboard, eyes on him as if he had personally rearranged the laws of public embarrassment.
By dinner, Harbor Cove would improve the story.
By Tuesday, it would probably have a ring.