by Chant, Zoe
CHAPTER FOUR
Matthew, silently but gleefully, said, Oso, she thinks I'm attractive!
Mates do, his bear replied with unshakable calm. Matthew knew the bear was an inseparable part of him, but when he'd been very small, before he knew he was a shifter, his mother had given him her own beloved childhood teddy bear. She had only ever called the stuffed animal 'Bear', and Matthew, not to be outdone, had called it Oso, the Spanish word for bear.
As his own bear had come to life inside him, he had associated the two, and although it had been many, many years now since the old stuffed bear had retired, Matthew still thought of his bear self by the fond childhood nickname.
Narrowly avoiding speaking aloud, Matthew squeaked, She's not my mate! She's just a very attractive woman who lives in the town I'm working in this month!
Home, his bear said agreeably, and Matthew bit back a groan.
Not home. Port of call. Although he had to admit, Virtue seemed pretty great at first glance, even though he had never thought of himself as a small-town kind of person. But there was obviously a vibrant community spirit—as evidenced by the gathering of thirty or more people, some of whom were, in fact, parked in the road to block traffic—and it appeared Sarah Ekstrom was at the heart of it.
She'd strode ahead of him, calling greetings and listening to summaries of the situation, all while sizing up a couple of men in dark suits who looked uncomfortably hot in the late afternoon sun. By the time she reached them, Matthew, trailing in her wake, had been introduced to seventeen people, and could remember none of their names. They made him feel unexpectedly welcome, like he was an old friend who hadn't been home in a long time. He'd felt that way as a child, in the village he'd grown up in, but not, he realized, since. It surprised him to recognize it, since one of the things he particularly loved about big cities was blending in with the crowds and becoming an anonymous one of many.
He stopped several feet back, not wanting to interfere with Sarah facing off against the suits, although—having known her roughly half an hour—Matthew couldn't really imagine anything interfering with what this woman wanted.
One of the suits was saying, "We have eminent domain—" to which Sarah snorted loudly enough to be mistaken for a bear herself. Matthew bit back a grin and the suit, apparently accustomed to demure women, looked taken aback.
"You can keep your eminent domain," Sarah told the suit, briskly. "We'll lie in ditches until the cows come home if that's what it takes to keep you from tearing up Jenny's land."
A child's voice howled, "Horses, Auntie Sarah, until the horses come home! Ms. Minor has horses!"
For all her obvious well-honed and well-directed vitriol at the suit, Sarah's whole body telegraphed charmed amusement at the correction. She lifted her voice, bellowed, "Right, until the horses come home!" in response, and the man she was facing flinched like he'd never heard a woman yell before. In a more normal tone, Sarah went on, "You're wasting your time trying to develop Virtue, Mr...I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."
Somehow she said it in a way that implied his name wasn't worth her time to remember. The man stiffened and said, "Harsnick. Pat Harsnick."
"Mr. Harsnick." Somehow the name itself sounded distasteful, in Sarah's tone. Matthew had never heard anybody put so many subtle digs into so few words. "Why don't you take your tractors and your bulldozers and your strong-arm attempts at eminent domain and go bother a landfill, Mr. Harsnick? I'm sure your company could be put to much better use trying to improve an old environmental disaster than creating a new one in Virtue."
"You can't stop progress," Harsnick said with a degree of calm that suggested this, at least, was familiar territory for him to tread. "Virtue has gone undeveloped for decades, missing out on a—"
"Tell it to the town council." Sarah stopped him with a raised palm. "With an appropriate appointment, of course. In the meantime..." She turned that palm outward, encompassing the gathered townsfolk. "You're not digging up anything."
"You can't stay here forever," Harsnick said patiently.
"I think you'd be surprised." A woman in her early thirties swung over the fence at the side of the road, all long legs and blue jeans. An hour earlier, Matthew would have thought she was immensely attractive, but he'd met Sarah Ekstrom since then, so the newcomer only struck him as generally pleasant to look at.
Shush, he said to his bear, before it had any opportunity to comment. Its cheerful silence was almost worse than commentary, though. This is a summer job, he told the bear again. I have a dream job waiting for me in the city next month!
Mmhmm, said his bear, and Matthew decided he'd better stop arguing with himself before he lost the argument.
"Jennifer Minor," the newcomer said to Harsnick. "This is my land you're trying to take over. You know I've filed an injunction against you."
Harsnick's smile was surprisingly oily. "Just getting our ducks in a row, ma'am."
They weren't, though. Matthew had seen enough strong-arm tactics to know that Harsnick, and the developing company he represented, hoped a show of strength right now would cow the people of Virtue into giving them what they wanted.
But an awful lot of people had obviously dropped what they were doing in order to come out and stand up on their neighbor's behalf. From the kids in the field—observed by a few watchful adults—to 'protesters' sitting on the hoods of their cars and chatting while things got sorted out—it was clear to Matt that this was a town determined to show it couldn't be pushed around, and a developer annoyed by that revelation.
"Well, your ducks are blocking one of the two roads leading in and out of Virtue on this side of town, so you'd better move them," Sarah said briskly. "Because I assure you—and I mean this in the best possible way—you're between a hard place and a town full of rock-hard-headed individuals who will absolutely camp out along this road all winter, if necessary."
"You know," Harsnick said, "I almost believe you. But I've been down this road a lot of times, Ms..."
"Ekstrom," Sarah replied icily.
"Ms. Ekstrom," he echoed. "Small towns like Virtue almost always end up deciding it's in their best interests to go ahead and allow the development. Progress can't be stopped, you know. I think we'll just leave these tractors here, for the time being. The weather's meant to be fine for the rest of the week, after all."
Matthew, under his breath, murmured, "Mighty nice tractor you've got there, mister. Be a shame if anything...happened to it...," and although he didn't think Sarah could have possibly heard him, she gave him a sudden, bright smile over her shoulder. It warmed him all the way through, as if, after a lifetime of searching through the night, he'd finally found the sun.
That was possibly the most romantic thought he'd ever had in his life. Matthew blinked at himself, wondering where that had come from, and tried to ignore the exasperated look his bear gave him. Another vehicle, this one marked with a sheriff's crest, pulled up as Matt tried to shake the thought off. A uniformed man got out and approached the crowd backing up Jennifer Minor.
Matthew didn't think he would want to cross that crowd, and hoped the sheriff didn't, either. They didn't seem exactly unfriendly, but they were definitely focused, and all on the same side. Jennifer handed Harsnick a sheaf of paperwork that soured his expression as he rifled through it. "This isn't the end of it," he warned Ms. Minor.
The sheriff, having edged through the crowd, said, "I'd like to have a look at that," with the kind of calm that came from being accustomed to being respected.
Harsnick's mouth pinched, but he gave the paperwork to the sheriff, who looked through it more carefully than Harsnick himself had. Then he offered the papers back with an edge to his smile. "All of this is in order. I'm afraid you'll have to leave until the court case is settled."
Anger flared in the developer's face, but he turned away and circled a hand in the air, indicating to his people that they had to leave. The gathered community pulled their vehicles out of the way and drove off, waving and chee
ring, and those closest to Jennifer embraced her, murmuring congratulations before they left.
"Told you," Sarah said happily. "Thanks, Sheriff."
"Only doing my job," the man said with an air of satisfaction. He, too, got in his vehicle and drove away again, and Jennifer sagged as she turned to Sarah.
"It wasn't that I didn't believe you..."
Sarah chuckled. "I know. Don't worry, though. Judge Owens has got our back. Virtue is her town too."
"They shouldn't be able to do this at all," Jenny said bitterly. "Their paperwork says the state gave them eminent domain rights because they'll be developing a series of walking trails and open land use for their resort. How much do you want to bet those walking trails will 'accidentally' end up behind locked gates or high walls?"
"It won't," Sarah promised. "We're going to fight this all the way. Won't we, Mr. Rojas?"
Alarm sparked through Matthew, though it came out as a laugh as he pushed his glasses up. "We? I'm not sure about that, Ms. Ekstrom. It's clear this development company won't know what hit them, but I'm not really here to get that involved in local politics. I wouldn't presume to have an opinion about it all."
A flash of something—disappointment?—darted through Sarah's eyes, although her smile remained friendly enough. "Right, of course not. I forget that I get a little over-involved sometimes."
Someone walking by laughed. "You don't get over-involved, Sarah. You run this town. I don't know what we'd do without you."
Sarah called, "Mayor Lind runs this town!" after them, and shrugged at Matthew with a rueful smile. "Well, this didn't turn out to be the dramatic all-night face-off I imagined it would, so do you want to get dinner? The Silver Dollar Diner does great burgers."
"I'm starving," Matt admitted. "I didn't think about dinner when you suggested we drive out here. I'm kind of glad it hasn't turned into an all-night thing."
"Oh, we would have ordered pizza. 'Deliver it to the protest on the road out to Jenny's house'. But I'm glad Sheriff Brown showed up and headed that off."
Jennifer Minor put her hand out to Matthew. "Hi, we didn't meet earlier. I'm Jenny. You must be the new archivist. Thanks for calling all the phone trees, Sarah. I think half of Virtue would've been out here by sunset if Harsnick hadn't slunk off."
"Any time. After that crap Preston pulled trying to get Mabs's place last year, I feel like everybody around here is on high alert. Virtue's been a township since before the Revolution," Sarah told Matthew. "Nobody here wants it turned into a cookie-cutter copy of every other upstate town, but Harsnick's not wrong, either. It's hard to hold progress back."
"Nobody wants to hold progress back," Jenny objected. "We just don't need the big box stores or the generic hotels—"
"Or the faux-old-timey Kellerman's Resort taking over your hills," Matthew finished, and both the women looked at him with a degree of admiring awe.
Jenny, quietly, said, "Did he just drop a Dirty Dancing reference on us with no warning?"
"Yeah," Sarah said with a wicked grin, "but I saw him first."
An unexpected thrill shot through Matthew. She sounded so possessive He could think of any number of ways he'd like to possess, and be possessed by, Sarah and her strong arms and wicked smile. Most of them weren't suitable for mixed company, but standing with his arm around her shoulders, and hers around his waist, sounded wonderful all by itself.
It did not need to sound wonderful. He wasn't in Virtue for a summer romance any more than he was here to find a community and a home. He had a month-long temp job and long-term employment in another city at the end of it.
He'd wanted the New York City job his entire life. It struck him as ridiculous that he'd had to remind himself of that several times in the hour he'd been in Virtue.
Jenny laughed out loud, apparently not prepared to fight Sarah for Matthew. "Well, nice to meet you, Mr. Rojas. Since it looks like we don't have to be out here all night, I'm going to head home and feed the dogs. I don't guess we know how long it'll take Judge Owens to come through with anything?"
"No idea. I'm sure it'll be as fast as she can, but..." Sarah spread her hands and shrugged.
"I'll check in with her tomorrow," Jenny decided. "Thanks again, Sarah."
"Any time. You know that." Sarah waved as Jenny went off to her truck, then arched her eyebrows—dark, well-formed, and with a bit of makeup to apply a modern-retro vibe to them—at Matthew. "So, dinner?"
Anything that let him spend more time with Sarah Ekstrom sounded perfect. Matt, smiling brightly, said, "Let's go."
CHAPTER FIVE
It wasn't, Sarah told herself, that she was disappointed in Matthew Rojas for not wanting to get heavily involved in Virtue's minor trials and tribulations. But even having just met him, the reminder that he wasn't in town for long, that he didn't need or want to become an intricate part of Virtue's community, had struck her like a sour bell. There was no reason for it to bother her, except he was so ridiculously handsome. So handsome. Maybe she could just sneak a lot of pictures so when he left she could still admire him.
Because that definitely wouldn't be at all creepy or weird.
Sarah, mostly to silence her own terrible line of stalker-friendly thoughts, said, "So I think you've gotten a snapshot of Virtue tonight. All those people showing up, that's kind of Virtue in a nutshell. Everybody's all up in everybody else's business, and mostly, people like it," as they completed the drive back into town. "They'll be up in yours, too."
Matthew cleared his throat, almost a laugh. Sarah mentally reviewed what she'd said, and winced. "All up in your business. Not up yours."
He laughed out loud this time. His laugh was as wonderful as his face, warm and inviting enough that it made Sarah smile even through her embarrassment. "I followed you," he said, smiling. "Don't worry about it. Whoa, what's this?"
Sarah lit up with pride. "That's where we're going to dinner."
The Silver Dollar Diner lay on Virtue's outskirts and was newer than most of the town's historic buildings. Which was to say, it dated from the 1950s, rather than the 1850s. The owner had kept the 50s style diner decor, too, right down to the neon and chrome name emblazoned above the building. The diner had a big parking lot, which most of Virtue's Main Street businesses didn't, and this evening, it was, to use the jargon of its era, hopping.
Teens on dates and adults pretending not to be their supervisors were everywhere, drinking milkshakes and chatting with each other over the roofs of cars. Kids on roller skates smashed into both each other and parked cars as they raced around like a miniature roller derby had come to town. Someone had set up an enormous screen behind the diner and impromptu drive-in movies were shown most summer nights. There were a few dozen cars parked back there right now, the laughter of their occupants drifting over the diner building.
It was all so wholesome it would make Sarah's teeth hurt, if she didn't love it so much.
"Look at this place," Matthew said in astonishment as they got out of the truck. "The job advertisement didn't say Virtue was storybook perfect, Sar—uh, Ms. Ekstrom."
"Sarah's fine. We're going to be working together, after all. And it's not, of course. We have our problems, just like everywhere else. But...yeah. It's pretty good. Our main street has taken some hits with the economic downturn, but I think things are getting better. My friend Mabs, you met her—"
"You're her maid of honor," Matthew supplied. "I remember."
Sarah hid a giggle of infatuated delight. "You were listening. That's amazing."
Matthew made a face as he opened the diner door for Sarah. "It shouldn't be, but thank you."
"Thank you," Sarah said, stepping inside and lifting her voice above the chaos and babble inside. "I mean, thank you for opening the door, not for listening, although that too. Anyway, Mabs wants to rent a place on the square to open her massage therapy center, and somebody just bought an old bar that's been closed for years, so I think we're turning the corner. And we don't need businesses like Stinkface Dev
elopers to do it! A table for two, please," she added as a waitress whirled by.
"Gimme five minutes," the girl said, and Sarah nodded.
"Stinkface Developers," Matthew echoed, amused. "Is that their formal name?"
"Probably. No, they're called Upstate Resorts Developers, URD, and we'd better look at a menu before sitting down or we might be waiting until ten p.m." Sarah took a menu from a box of them beside the door and handed one to Matthew, who glanced at it, but mostly seemed to want to look over the busy diner.
The Silver Dollar's interior matched its outsides, with a black and white checked tile floor, a dining counter with stools, and even an old-fashioned soda fountain. The decor was mostly chrome and fake red leather, with little jukeboxes at each table that took quarters and actually worked. The music was a constant, eclectic collection of hits from Sarah's youth mixed with some genuine oldies, and the occasional modern playlist takeover when somebody hijacked the wifi. Right now the place was packed, the larger booths stuffed with families or entire hordes of teenagers. The smaller ones were filled with people trying to have dates or quiet conversations beneath the general ruckus. Regular tables were bunched together or pulled apart to accommodate very small or very large parties, and there were at least six waitstaff on duty tonight, all of them looking hot but cheerful.
Sarah had worked here as a teenager, and knew that free milkshakes were one of the perks. She'd always been cheerful, too.
"I grew up in a village in the Andes," Matthew said. "It was nothing like this at all, but Virtue reminds me of it, a little. There seems to be a real sense of community."
"Ah, I'm exactly the opposite. We moved here when I was six," Sarah offered in exchange. "Before that we lived on a big city block that had a lot of old people and hardly any kids. I had neighbors to play with for the first time ever when we got here, so I thought I was in heaven."
"That's exactly it." Matthew smiled at her as the waitress came by to point them at a table. "It has that feeling about it. Like everyone is part of something."
