Chapter 3
Logan
Logan took his place at the podium, aware that every eye in the room was on him and every hushed voice was talking about him. He didn’t mind. People always acted this way when he came to a new town. Change wasn’t something people readily accepted, but he’d seen firsthand what happened when someone refused to adapt.
“Mr. Mayor, council members, thank you for inviting me to speak tonight,” Logan said as he faced the crowd. He’d learned it was important to address the townspeople, not just the elected officials. He had to make people feel they were part of the process, that their opinions would be heard. And they would be, but he might also have to try to change a few of them along the way. Often they couldn’t see the forest for the trees because they were too close to the situation.
He’d seen city after city thrive after his plans were implemented. Municipal revenue went up, which meant better roads, improved schools, and infrastructure upgrades, and he always tried to accomplish his goals without disrupting anything with history or character. Preservation and progress didn’t have to be mutually exclusive, a fact he’d successfully convinced a dozen other towns to believe.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he continued, “my name is Logan Lancaster, and I’m here as a consultant with the town of Heron Isle to find a plan for the waterfront that benefits each and every one of you.” He paused to make eye contact with several people in the crowd. He wanted them to feel he saw them and understood them. “I know you’ve already seen three plans and that none of them fit your needs.” He paused as the crowd mumbled its disapproval of the previous plans. He then held up his hand.
“And that’s okay. I’m here to help you find one that does fit the unique attributes of your beautiful island. I’ve only been here for a few weeks—mostly holed up in my cottage reviewing your past meetings and proposed plans—but I’m already taken by what I’ve seen of your pristine sandy beaches and your beautiful historic architecture. I can see why you all love it so much and want to protect it. I promise you, I’m not here to destroy that. I simply want to find a way to enhance what you already have in a way that benefits the city financially so your island can continue to thrive.”
And so I can get the heck out of here as fast as possible, he thought, but didn’t say.
This job hadn’t been his first choice or even his third choice. It had been his only choice after he blew his last job in San Diego. None of the other big cities would touch him in the immediate aftermath, and he’d had to practically beg for this job since he didn’t have any small-town experience. He’d played up his small-town upbringing, which had done the trick only because his favorite professor called in a favor to an old friend, Mayor Jenkins. It was his sister Carly’s idea, urging him to put his ego aside and use the connections he had to help him get back on track. It had been humiliating to ask for the favor, but she had been right, as usual. If he could just put an impressive win here between him and his failure, he could land the next big job.
Logan started picking out additional faces in the crowd to make eye contact with—his goal was to reach at least half the people in the room by the end of his presentation. Since the chamber only held about seventy-five people, that shouldn’t be a problem. The redhead in the front row to his left was scowling when he first locked eyes with her, but he saw her face and shoulders relax when he flashed a smile her way.
Reaching down in his bag next to the podium, he brought out a stack of large folded-up renderings and began to unfold them.
“I’ve looked at the three plans that were submitted, and I agree with you all. They’re not right for Heron Isle.” He made a big show of ripping the plans in half and then in half again. “Do we have a trash can?”
As if on cue, the bailiff standing next to the platform where the councilmen sat lumbered over with a waste bin. Logan dramatically tossed the papers. The redhead was so excited she began to clap. Score one for the eye contact, but he could see the rest of the room remained skeptical.
“We’re starting over. Sure, there are some elements we might take from each of those plans, but the slate is wiped clean. We can do anything we want.” He emphasized the “we” to further cement the notion that they were part of a team here, the council, the townspeople, and himself. “I get it, though. You don’t trust me yet. So let me tell you a little bit about myself so we can all start to get to know one another. I’m a local-government consultant with nearly fifteen years of experience. I have a law degree with a certificate in land use, and my undergraduate degree is in urban planning. I’ve helped cities far worse off than yours find ways to boost their budget and create spaces to be enjoyed for generations to come.”
He made eye contact with a well-dressed man to his right, noting he was the only person in the room in a full suit. Logan was glad he’d ditched his usual suit for a more casual look of khaki slacks and a checkered button-down he knew brought out his best feature, his green eyes.
Next, he walked them through his successful redevelopment projects in Baltimore, Phoenix, and St. Louis. He left out San Diego. No one needed to be reminded of what happened there, least of all him. He moved his gaze past the man in the suit a couple rows back, and saw familiar brown eyes framed by blonde curls. The charming bookstore owner who’d told him about the dentist office. Sure, she’d been talking about the history of dentistry, but she’d been downright adorable doing it. Then she’d nearly been tackled by the skateboarder, and the memory of the coconut aroma of her hair as she’d clung to his chest might have mesmerized him had the notification on his phone not gone off to remind him of this meeting. He was here for business, not pleasure. He’d learned the hard way the two should never be mixed.
It certainly wasn’t pleasure he was feeling now, though, as the warm brown eyes he’d studied earlier were replaced by a gaze so cold it felt as if the air-conditioner had just come on above him. Her arms were crossed stiffly across her chest, her mouth pulled into a tight line. He flashed her a smile, nodding to acknowledge her, but her expression remained unchanged. Forcing himself to look at the other faces around her, he noticed they were all equally cold.
He’d miscalculated. This wasn’t a crowd that would be impressed with his work in cities. The kind of people who lived here were here specifically because they didn’t want a big-city life. He should have known better, given his hometown was even smaller than Heron Isle, but it had been a long time since he’d actually spent any time in a small community.
Yet he was nothing if not adept at reading the room and making adjustments.
“Heron Isle is different though.” He extended his arms as if to encompass the whole room. “This isn’t some major metropolis where we’re going to throw up new apartments downtown and try to attract Fortune 500 companies. I’m here to figure out what your vision is for the waterfront and then bring it to life.” A few faces in the crowd relaxed. They weren’t exactly hanging on his every word, but at least they no longer looked as if they wished they had rotten tomatoes to throw at him.
“I’ve already had the chance to meet some of you, and in the coming weeks I hope to meet many more of you.” He looked right at the woman he’d met earlier, willing her smile to brighten her features, but her face remained unmoved. He carried on. “I’ll start by visiting the downtown businesses and dropping in on the Rotary club, the Lions club, and any other club that will have me.” He laughed, trying to lighten the mood, scanning the crowd, trying to gauge if there was anything else he could add to ensure he got off on the right foot with the townspeople.
His eyes kept returning to the woman who’d found such joy in telling him about the history of the bay window earlier, who’d been so flustered after the encounter with the skateboarder that she’d lost her shoe as she stepped off the curb. He’d felt a spark in the brief moment he’d touched her, pulling her away from his chest so he could see if she was all right. Had she felt it too? Even if she had, his charm was clearly lost on her now. She sat like a statue, arms still crossed, and her cute little mouth still pulled in that tight line. It was time to wrap it up.
“That’s it for now. I look forward to speaking more with you all soon.” He turned back to the commissioners, giving them a smile that was far more confident than the looks they were returning. He reminded himself not to sweat it. Every project started out like this, and he always managed to turn the tide of sentiment before he was packing his bags to move on to the next one.
As they opened for public comment, Logan moved to the back of the room to listen as the townspeople got up one by one and gave a range of opinions. It became clear there was a contingent of folks who built houses and commercial buildings outside of the island’s historic district who were salivating at the idea of working on a new project, but they were outnumbered by the two groups Mayor Jenkins had warned him opposed all three of the previous plans: the conservancy group and the downtown business owners.
When the woman he’d met earlier rose to make her way to the podium, he stood taller and waited impatiently to hear her name as she read herself into the record.
“Lucy Sullivan, owner of Beachside Books and president of the Downtown Business Owners Council.”
His heart sank. She wasn’t just any business owner; she was the leader of the opposition.
“I think I speak for all my fellow downtown business owners when I say I’m amazed that instead of taking the time to consider why the first proposals failed, you all have decided to bring in yet another outsider”—she gestured in his direction, her narrowed brown eyes cutting through him even though her voice was shaky—“to tell us what we should do here. I respect Mr. Lancaster’s experience, but haven’t we all learned that no one understands what Heron Isle needs if they haven’t lived and worked here?” It was a rhetorical question she didn’t pause for anyone to answer. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I feel misled.”
She turned to the crowd, acknowledging those who were nodding at her. She turned back to the commission. “We thought tonight was about tabling this whole waterfront discussion until the proper research was done on the impact any development would have on the environment and the existing downtown businesses.”
The mayor began in a soothing tone, like a father talking to his daughter. “We appreciate your concern, Lucy, and that of everyone else here tonight. Mr. Lancaster is here for exactly that, to help us facilitate the needed research and discussion. His job is to balance that against the city’s need to generate more revenue. Our waterfront is one of our greatest resources, and the councils that have come before us have admittedly done a poor job of maximizing it.”
Lucy crossed her arms, a disapproving frown taking over her features. He could hardly suppress the part of him that felt compelled to find a way to put the cheerful smile he’d seen earlier back on her face. He was the white knight for the town in this story, not the villain.
“Lucy, I would think you’d understand more than most,” the mayor continued. “You fought so hard to save the library, organizing all those fundraisers when the city couldn’t afford the maintenance on the building. You know what our budget looks like. What would you have us do?”
The exchange reminded Logan of his hometown in Wisconsin. It was as if they were discussing the matter over coffee, not on record in the commission chambers. He’d worked in big cities for so long he’d forgotten how small towns were more like navigating a family squabble than a commercial negotiation. He’d get his feet under him, though. And this time he’d be more successful than he had been with his father, who’d resisted Logan’s “adapt or die” warnings to his detriment.
Lucy’s delicate features had relaxed, although her shoulders still looked tense as she shifted from one foot to the other before dropping her arms by her sides. Her voice was quieter when she answered.
“I’m not trying to be unreasonable. None of us are. But this isn’t a decision that can be made lightly. It could impact us all for a very long time. I just hope he knows what he’s doing.” She flicked her head in his direction, but didn’t turn to meet his eyes.
Logan knew it wasn’t a good sign when someone couldn’t even look at him. He made a note to look further into the whole library story. He would learn as much about Lucy Sullivan as he could before they met again and be ready to show her how the influx of tourists his plan would bring would benefit her bookstore, not harm it. He’d turn on the charm and win her over. For business purposes only, he reminded himself. He couldn’t let his interest in a woman derail his work again. He’d had enough heartbreak to last a lifetime, both personally and professionally.
Several others got up to speak after Lucy, most echoing the same sentiments. As the meeting ended, he moved to the back of the room and positioned himself by the door so everyone would be forced to walk past him on the way out. He’d smile and shake hands, looking for the ones who seemed most receptive. He hoped no one would hear his stomach growling. He’d been in so many meetings with commissioners and other town personnel today he’d missed lunch.
David Stallings, as he’d introduced himself, made a beeline to Logan as soon as the meeting adjourned.
“My family has been building on this island for three generations. Let me know if you want to sit down and work on some plans,” he said, practically salivating at the idea of building something new.
David was the first and last friendly face Logan would see. Lucy’s speech had flipped the scales in her favor. Others passed by him scowling, shaking their heads.
“Outsider,” one elderly woman muttered as she passed him, spitting it out like a curse word. It was clear the town didn’t like outsiders meddling in their business, but it had been expected. It would just require a more personal approach.
Helen Bowman, head of the local tree conservancy, stopped next to introduce herself.
“Do let me know when you have time to meet. We have a few concerns I’d like to share with you.”
She was nice enough, but Logan wasn’t sure why the tree conservancy even had a dog in this fight. There weren’t really any trees in the area, just a few scattered palms in the parking lots that flanked either side of the marina. In his experience, tree conservancies were worried about things like live oaks and cypress. He’d never worked in Florida before. Maybe palm trees warranted some protection here, although he knew they weren’t that difficult to relocate.
Helen was in the middle of a lengthy explanation about the difference between a sabal palm and a sago palm when Lucy headed toward the door. She was surrounded by the same people he’d seen her sitting with, several of whom had gotten up to speak and introduced themselves as downtown business owners. He tried to catch her eye without being rude to the tree conservancy woman, but Lucy seemed to be making a concerted effort not to look at him. Before he could break free from Helen, the business owners group had slipped out the door.
Logan went outside as soon as he finished with Helen, hoping Lucy had stopped outside to talk to someone. He was disappointed to find the sidewalk empty in both directions and none of her group in sight. His shoulders slumped, but his stomach reminded him he didn’t have time to hang around. Besides, he needed more time to research Lucy Sullivan and find out what made her tick. Then he could figure out how to get her—and the other downtown business owners—on his side.
So what if that meant he had to spend a little extra time with this particular resident? It was just business. Sure, it was business with a woman he hadn’t stopped thinking about since she’d tripped off the sidewalk and scurried across the street earlier, but it wasn’t like he could avoid working with the president of the Downtown Business Owners Council just because she had a cute smile and smelled like a sunny afternoon. He was a professional. A professional who had this one final shot to salvage his career. Nothing—and no one—was going to get in the way of that.