Читать книгу Matinees With Miriam - Vicki Essex - Страница 12

CHAPTER FOUR

“MIRA? HONEY, ARE you okay?”

“I’m busy.”

Arty stared around the empty theater, the aisle lights and dingy stage floods the only illumination. “Where are you, girl?”

“I can’t talk right now, Arty, I’m concentrating.” The echo of her voice gave him some inkling of where she was. He sighed, cursing his old bones as he climbed the ladder into the fly loft above the stage. Sure enough, he found Mira hanging from one of the cables, strapped into a well-used nylon harness, tinkering with the sliding mechanisms. He gripped the railing. “I wish you’d stop playing on this old thing. It’s not safe.”

“It’s fine. I made modifications so I don’t need anyone else to help me use it,” she said as she took a grease gun from her tool belt and applied a glob to the track.

“I’m not worried about you needing help to use it. I’m worried about you getting hurt.”

“This was a state-of-the-art rig in its day, Arty. I can’t let such an investment go to waste.”

“‘Its day’ was over twenty-five years ago. It’s almost as old as you. It’s never going to get used again, Mira.”

She glared at him defiantly. “No? Then what do you call this?”

With a heart-lurching lunge, she flung her whole weight to one side. Arty yelped as she dived toward the ground headfirst, but at the last minute, she flipped around and lightly touched the floor with her toe before ascending once more. Her path around the stage stopped abruptly, however, as the rig juddered. She gave a little oof, then laughed as she took up the slack from a connecting rope and dragged herself back to the platform Arty clung to.

“Are you crazy?” he screamed. “Do you have a death wish?” His heart pounded. “Get down from there this instant!”

“Relax, Arty. I’ve been playing on this thing nearly my whole life. Grandpa taught me how it all works and I’ve made it so it’s perfectly safe.”

“So it’ll be your grandpa’s fault when you fall and crack your skull open. I’ll be sure to thank him when I die of a heart attack.”

She pouted. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You scare me all the time, Mira. I worry about you.” He wiped a hand over his brow. “What happened tonight? You haven’t had a panic attack like that in years.”

She climbed down the ladder ahead of him so he couldn’t read her expression. “That school brings out the worst in me.”

“Mira...”

“It wasn’t a panic attack. I’m too old for those now.”

Arty sighed. She acted tough, but he knew she was fragile inside. Jack had always indulged her because of it. “You got pretty upset.”

“I’m upset because Shane Patel won’t get the hint.” She started taking the harness off. “I can’t sell the Crown. This place is my home. It’s all I have left of Grandpa.”

“That’s all well and good, honey, but it doesn’t explain what happened to you out there.”

Her shoulders sagged. “It was nothing. You know I don’t like it when people pressure me. Or stare.”

Yeah, he knew. Miriam’s parents had been a couple of deadbeats from the start, and when they did pay attention to her between drunken binges, they either berated her ruthlessly or expected her to perform like some kind of circus monkey. Jack had pulled her out of that hellhole away from his no-good son when he’d discovered they’d been leaving her alone for days at a time. That rough beginning had made her an easy target for gossip and bullying in school, too.

“I didn’t think you’d show,” Arty said.

“I didn’t, either. But I had to make myself clear to Mr. Patel.”

Arty studied the flush in her cheeks when she said his name. He knew Janice had brought that orchid to her from a nonexistent secret admirer. It seemed Mira had fallen for the ruse. “He’s not a bad guy. Used to spend his summers in Everville. He’s practically one of us.”

“He isn’t.” She said it so sharply, Arty wondered at her hostility. He decided to push the matter.

“I don’t know. He’s easygoing, knows the terrain, the people. For a kid who only spent two months a year here, he’s got a better memory for folks’ names and occupations than most.”

She made a dismissive “Pfft” sound, but didn’t say anything to contradict his claim.

“Y’know, I don’t think he’s going to stop trying to convince you to sell.”

She paused. “I know.”

“So...what? You gonna call Sheriff McKinnon to kick him off your property every time he comes around?”

“Ralph has better things to do.” She turned, a shrewd look in her eye. “No, I’ve got better ways to stop him in his tracks.”

“They don’t involve more weapons, do they?”

“Give me some credit. There’s more than one way to crack a nut.”

* * *

“MS. WELKS.” SHANE greeted Everville’s mayor. She looked up from her paperwork, smile lines radiating around her face. Her dark red hair was the color of a banked ember. He was put in mind of a lioness watching her cubs from a hot, flat rock.

“Mr. Patel, thank you for coming.” She gestured at the visitor’s chair across from her cluttered desk. “Can I offer you some tea? Coffee?”

“Nothing for me, thank you.” He wasn’t sure the tiny “mayor’s office” even had room for an electric kettle. There wasn’t much in the way of a town hall in Everville. The main administrative building housed a bevy of municipal functions, but Ms. Welks’s office was barely the size of his living room in his Brooklyn condo. Filing cabinets stacked with bulging folders and yellowing binders surrounded the perimeter. An overgrown mother-of-millions plant by the window spilled out of its cracked pot, its progeny scattered over the water-stained credenza and linoleum floor.

“Sorry about the mess,” she said, noticing his silent assessment. “Life of a municipal bureaucrat.”

“I’ve seen worse,” he said, though the paperwork was usually spread over offices ten times this size in other cities he’d worked in. And there were usually assistants to help with this kind of thing. The mayor of Everville didn’t even have a secretary. “You wanted to talk?”

She nodded. “I heard you made quite an impression with your condo presentation at the high school.”

“I sure hope so. The people who attended certainly made a good impression on the food tables.” He studied her surreptitiously, trying to gauge her feelings. Certainly there were some who’d voiced their concerns to her over the past two days.

Mayor Welks chuckled. “Sorry I couldn’t make it myself, but I have to appear somewhat impartial. I’ve been hearing talk around town. You’ve got people buzzing, which is always good. Well, usually.”

“You heard about Bob Fordingham?”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s a man of his own convictions, even when he’s contradicting himself.” She sniffed. “I won’t be coy about it. He hates me for winning the election. He’ll do anything to undermine my administration.”

“I’ve dealt with guys like that before. He’s just one man, though. It’s really a matter of who he’ll sway to his way of thinking.”

“He has the ear of some more conservative thinkers. Older folks who haven’t appreciated the way the town’s changed over the past few years.”

“I’ve dealt with folks like that, too.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Mr. Patel.”

“Shane is fine.”

She nodded. “Unfortunately, Bob Fordingham isn’t the only one I wanted to talk to you about.” She slid a folder toward him. “Miriam Bateman’s lodged a formal protest to Everville’s town council against the rezoning of her property.”

The pit of his stomach swooped at the mention of Miriam. “But the zoning board hasn’t even voted on this yet.”

“Seems she’s getting a jump on it. She’s really not keen on selling the theater.”

“Do you have any insight into her reason?”

“I don’t know her personally, and I never knew Jack Bateman. From what I hear, he was a good man.”

He hesitated. “Do you know how he died?”

“You’re referring to the suicide rumors.” She shook her head. “I don’t know if they’re true. Stories get conflated around here. All I do know is that he left everything to his only grandchild, Miriam.”

He added that to his mental file on Miriam. He’d ask Arty or someone else about Jack Bateman. Getting to the root of Miriam’s attachment to the Crown was key to taking it off her hands.

“You understand that you’ll probably have to defend your project at the next town meeting. Miriam’s protest will likely be followed by others.”

“You’ve had success changing people’s minds before,” he noted.

“I don’t change minds, Mr. Patel. I support projects that will ensure Everville endures and grows.” She dropped her pen on the notepad in front of her. “It’s not my job to convince people what’s good for them. All these infrastructure projects I’ve supported are about shoring up the foundations of this town, prepping it for growth. Your condo is one of the first major private investment opportunities the town has seen in years. But no matter how good it looks on paper, I serve my constituents.”

“And does the project still look good to you?” he asked carefully. He’d heard from Laura that former mayor Fordingham hadn’t been coy about seeking a bribe from Sagmar in exchange for his support. The company had already offered other cosmetic and peripheral infrastructure incentives—a splash pad and playground, a new park, all kinds of beautification—but Big Bob had wanted his fat palms greased.

“I think affordable modern housing is what this town needs. The jobs and new blood it’ll bring in will benefit the whole community. Nothing is worse for the economy than stagnation. Nonetheless, my job is to serve the people.” She paused, gazing out the window. “The zoning meeting is about a month away. I’ll listen to any and all concerns the townspeople have, as will the other members of the board. You’ll understand if I tell you now that we should limit our private meetings until the zoning board vote is over.”

“Of course.” After all, optics were important. Everyone in town would know by the end of the day that he’d been by to see the mayor. She rightfully wouldn’t want anyone thinking those visits had affected her decision.

“I’ll ask that you conduct yourself professionally while you’re in town. It’s hard not to trip over elected officials here.”

“I understand.” Plenty of council members had businesses in town—he’d have to be careful about who to patronize. He didn’t want to be seen as favoring a few shops or services over others.

“Good. Nothing’s more important to me than the relationship between people and community, and I believe in good, democratic governance. The foundation for that is trust, transparency and truthfulness. That is something I will not jeopardize.”

“I hear you loud and clear.”

They parted ways soon after that. Shane headed back for the B and B, chewing over the mayor’s words.

She was a woman of strict morals—honest, dutiful and clearly intelligent. It was no less than he’d expected, considering the thoughtful, articulate emails and phone calls they’d exchanged. There’d be no bribing her or the other council members. Not that Shane would resort to that—not ostentatiously, at any rate. Miriam Bateman was a different story, though.

A month. He hadn’t thought he’d have to wait quite that long, though he supposed he could head back to New York in that time and return for the zoning board meeting.

Then again, he hadn’t yet secured the Crown, and from what he could tell, he would have to work hard to pry it from Miriam Bateman’s claws.

There were worse things than hanging out in Everville during the summer. Reacquainting himself with the town that had been like a second home to him wouldn’t be a trial.

* * *

MIRA FINISHED HER last blog post for the day and hit Publish. It’d been a grueling week with her deadlines. While she appreciated how much her editors liked her work, writing ten or more pieces daily was exhausting. The money was too good to turn away, though, and she needed every penny to pay the property taxes.

She frowned at the time—almost eight. She’d thought she’d be able to water her garden, but she preferred not to climb up to the roof in the dark. She thought again about the never-ending list of repairs and improvements and where “install rooftop patio lights” fell. Too far down, unfortunately. Working locks, busted plumbing and wonky electrical were top priority. While she could do a lot herself—the internet was great at teaching her all the DIY she needed to maintain the theater—she wasn’t stupid enough to think she could take on a job that required a certified professional.

“Don’t worry, Grandpa, I’ll get it all done, starting with the wiring,” she promised to the empty room as she got up to heat a can of soup in the little pot on the hot plate. “Or do you think the leaking urinals in the men’s room are more important?”

A hollow whistle broke the silence as changing air pressure creaked through the cavernous building. The wind outside was picking up—she knew the sound of every groan and thump like the beat of her own heart. She sighed. “I know, I don’t need to use them, but I’m worried about the pipes cracking in the walls, leaking all over the place. You know what water damage does.” Water was the most patient and most destructive of the threats to the Crown.

Well, except maybe for Shane Patel.

The man was insufferable. She hadn’t seen him since that presentation at the school gymnasium. Filing that formal complaint to the mayor must have finally put him off. Thank God. She wasn’t sure she could deal with his big, stupid smile, as if he was friends with everyone in Everville...

If the movies had taught her anything, it was to never trust handsome charmers.

She screwed up her face. “He’s not handsome, he’s just...new and different.”

The theater’s old ventilation shafts shuddered softly, as if with laughter, and she glared up at them. Tightening the bolts on the shaft brackets moved up the to-do list. Shane Patel was nothing more than a novelty, and an unwelcome one at that. He was like Harold Hill in The Music Man, a huckster after every red cent he could get, or in Mr. Patel’s case, her building. He would get what he wanted and be out of there as soon as the deal was done.

Well, that deal was never going to be done. She’d make sure of it.

Her perimeter alarm chimed. She checked her phone, wary about who was on her property at this time of night. She grabbed her paintball gun as the shadow moved across the security camera’s view, but then paused. She recognized that broad-shouldered silhouette and wide-stepped saunter. The figure banged on the front door.

With a disgusted grunt, she put the gun down, hastened toward the entrance and opened it. “What do you want?”

Shane’s eyes twinkled. Was he laughing at her? “Sorry for coming by so late. I wanted to talk to you before I left town.”

She blinked. “You’re...leaving Everville?” She didn’t know why her stomach dipped, or why disappointment pricked her so keenly.

“Just for the weekend. I’m heading back to New York for a family gathering, but I should return Monday. Tuesday at the latest.”

“Oh.” It came out stupidly. She wished she had some witty, cutting remark.

“I spoke with the mayor the other day. I understand you’ve filed a formal complaint against the development of the condo.”

She straightened, unsure why she felt a surge of guilt. “I have. And I won’t be the only one.”

“I didn’t think you would be. I’ve encountered plenty of resistance to other Sagmar projects, but we’ve always managed to address community concerns.” He held out a thick file. “I wanted to give you this. It’s a portfolio containing the specifics of the Sagmar condo we’re proposing for the site—almost identical to the one I filed with city planning.”

She glanced between him and the file warily. “I don’t need that. I already got all your emails. This won’t change anything.”

“Maybe not, but you might find the information helpful for your deputation.”

“Deputation?”

“At the next town meeting. You submitted a formal complaint, so you’ll get to give a five-minute presentation to the council about why you don’t want a condo here.”

She stared at him, feeling as though a trap were closing around her. She didn’t need to speak publicly about why she didn’t want the condo there. The Crown was her home. Not that anyone openly acknowledged it. Then again, Shane Patel probably didn’t know she lived there.

“But...why would you give me this?” She nodded at the folder. In her experience, opponents didn’t try to help each other.

Shane gave a light chuckle. The sound brushed against her senses with a featherlight caress, and her skin prickled. She liked that sound too much. “I don’t want to hide anything from you. I’m giving you this information so you can do your research properly. No one at Sagmar will hold any nonprivate information back from you, either. The company firmly believes in working with the community so that we can make sure we have the best fit, the best use of space, the best mix of business and residence. We don’t just drop concrete boxes into towns so people can spend years complaining about how they look or how terrible they are. We build homes.” He held the file out to her. “I want to work with you, Miriam.”

Awareness shimmied through her. He sounded sincere, but she didn’t always trust the way things sounded. She couldn’t let him past her defenses. Not for a second.

“I’m sorry—” his nose lifted as he looked past her “—but is something burning?”