She clicked off as Ford stowed their gear in the back of the truck and secured the kennel on the bench seat, wedged between the driver’s seat and the passenger side.
“Do you—”
She held up a finger, stalling him, and he realized she’d made another call. “Yes, hi, Owen. Yes,” she said. “It’s true. I know, I—thanks. I really appreciate that, it means a lot. Listen, I’m going to be heading over to the park in the next half hour. Could you meet me there? There’s something I want you to see.” She grinned. “You rock. See you then.”
She climbed in the passenger side and pulled her seat belt across her lap with a sharp little click. It took her a moment to notice that Ford was staring at her from his spot on the driver’s side.
“What?” she asked when he simply kept staring.
His smile was slow, and wide, and he was surprised again by how good something as simple as a grin could feel. “You’ve found your track,” he said.
She looked at him quizzically, but smiled along with him. “I don’t know about that, but I do know that Mayor Davis will have to own up to what he’s done, and the good folks of Blueberry Cove are going to see firsthand how their town council golden boy plans to do business if he’s elected mayor. Also, everyone is going to know that Brooks Winstock might have a vision of a better Blueberry Cove, but he’s not going to get any support if he plans to completely ignore the folks who already live here by stomping on them to get his way. And if a few other news outlets happen to spread the word of his plans to folks who might not be as happy with his expansion ideas . . . well, that wouldn’t break my heart.”
Ford grinned. “Like I said. You’ve found your track.” About time, he thought, relieved to see the Delia he knew come fully back to the forefront. He put the truck into gear and pulled out of the lot. Look out, City Hall. You’re about to find out what happens when you mess with a local icon.
Chapter 20
Delia’s palms were sweaty as she steered her SUV onto Front Street, toward the park. She wasn’t second-guessing the little maneuvers she’d pulled earlier, when they’d docked at Blue’s. She understood business was business, but she’d been raised to understand that treating people with decency and kindness was the best way to do business. It was time someone reminded the mayor, town council, and even Brooks Winstock of that little fact. She was just nervous about facing everyone, having to tell them that the good fight was over.
Her nerves were forgotten a moment later as she slowed to a stop a good block away from the park. Not because she’d changed her mind, but because she simply couldn’t get any closer. The streets were jammed with cars, media trucks, and people. So many, many people.
When Peg had called her out on the island, Delia had had a vision of some ragtag group of her most loyal regulars, sporting homemade signs as they marched in a little circle in front of the courthouse. She’d pictured Old Lou, Stokey, Arnie, maybe even Peg and Pete out there. But that vision paled, significantly, in the face of reality.
She pulled onto a side street and parked, and could hear the shouts even as far away as she was. Was that—was that Peg? Using a bullhorn?
Delia clicked the remote lock, stuffed her keys in her pocket, and hurried toward the courthouse. She had to duck and weave through people in order to see what was going on. A murmur started in the crowd around her and suddenly, like a magical parting of the seas, folks moved back as word spread that she had arrived.
Then, quite abruptly, she was almost stumbling out the other side of the crowd and into the small park. Which was filled, body to body, with people from the Cove. Faces she recognized, people she’d fed, listened to, grown up with, for God’s sake. Every last one of them had signs waving in the air, most saying things like SAVE THE DINER and NO YACHT CLUB! Though she did particularly like the one that said, DELIA’S HAS HEART! MAYOR’S GOT NO SOUL!
They were all shouting “Save the diner!” and her heart swelled almost to bursting with the love she felt for each and every one of them. Fruitless as their endeavor was going to be, it was still a good thing that the town’s constituency was being heard, that Ted and Brooks realized they couldn’t just bulldoze the whole town the way they were going to bulldoze her diner. The townspeople had woken up now, seen what was going to happen firsthand, and they weren’t going to just roll over and let Winstock do whatever he wanted. And if Ted had his eyes on anything bigger than being mayor, he was going to have to win back the people whose trust he’d lost the moment he’d tacked that eviction notice on her diner door. And that, she thought, is the victory I’ll take with me from all this.
She spied Owen over by the courthouse doors, talking to Peg, who had mercifully put down her bullhorn for the time being. But before Delia could make her way over there, or figure out how she could address the crowd and let them all know how deeply touched she was by their support, a news reporter shoved a microphone in her face.
A perky brunette in a navy blue suit asked her, “Ms. O’Reilly, is it true that local magnate Brooks Winstock is forcing you from property that the city encouraged you to build on twenty years ago? The same property that you’ve run a very successful business on for all of those twenty years?”
“The city has decided not to renew my lease,” Delia began, speaking the simple truth. “So as of the fifteenth of next month, the property will no longer be mine and the city can do what they want with it.”
“And why did they decide to shut down a prosperous business, one I understand is a favorite of many of the locals here?”
“Mr. Winstock made them an offer that I can’t come close to matching. It’s almost triple the current market value.”
“Why would he do that?”
“He wants to build a yacht club, bring in deep pockets to help grow the economic foundation of the town. My property—I mean the town’s property, where my diner is located—is the only prime spot left on the harbor with deepwater docking suitable for such a club.”
“So, he pushed you out.”
Delia shrugged. “I was informed by a letter from the land manager’s office two weeks ago my lease would not be renewed. And this morning there was an eviction notice on my door. I have sixteen days to vacate.”
There was a collective gasp and mutters of disgust from the crowd.
“So, you’re telling me that after operating a business here for twenty years—two decades”—she intoned, with the kind of gravitas only a seasoned news reporter could—“they are forcing you out and didn’t even have the decency to inform you in person? Pick up the phone and make a call?”
Delia smiled thinly. “It would appear so, yes. The mayor is retiring this fall and from what I understand, he didn’t wish to end his tenure by making an unpopular decision. However, as I imagine he also wants to be a charter member of the new yacht club, his hands were somewhat tied. The notice on my door, though, was signed by our mayoral hopeful, town council leader, Ted Weathersby. Who also happens to be Mr. Winstock’s son-in-law.”
The folks from the Cove booed that comment loudly, and all those who had come in along with the news truck caravan gasped again and started a murmur running through the crowd.
Delia had said all she needed to say. The media could take that and run with it, or not. She wasn’t interested in getting folks any more worked up than they already were; she’d just wanted the truth out there. “Thank you,” she said politely to the news reporter.
The brunette tried to collar her for a few follow-up questions, but Delia had already ducked away, intending to find Owen, and Peg, too. More microphones were stuck in her face, but when she kept on moving, those reporters turned to other locals to get their reaction to what their local politicians and business magnate had done.
Delia lost count of the number of hugs and handshakes she accepted and offered as she made her way closer to the courthouse. She was glad she’d done what she’d done. It wasn’t about changing the course of things. The yacht club was going to happen; she was resigned to that
, and she’d done a lot of thinking about it on her way back into town. Once again she’d found herself at a crossroads on her life path, but this time she was much better prepared to make decisions on what to do next. Her thoughts went to Ford, and she smiled. She also had a lot more to consider this time, too.
Before she could figure out the next step, however, there was one last thing she had to do, or at least try to do.
She found Owen still by the courthouse doors, but Peg had lost herself back in the crowd. Delia gave a quick scan, and then grinned as she spotted her faithful employee sharing her two cents with one of the reporters. “You want your reaction sound bite, you’ll get it from her,” Delia murmured, and then said, “Owen,” before he could turn away and be lost from sight again.
“Delia!” he said, looking relieved and a bit overwhelmed.
“Hi,” she told him, and then gave him a quick hug. “I really appreciate your coming. I had no idea—” She waved her hand behind her at the crowd. “I mean, I knew there was a little demonstration going on, but—”
“I’m so sorry,” he said, “about what the town council is doing. It’s not right.”
“Thank you,” she said. “It’s just how things go, I’m afraid. But they should have handled it better.”
“You think?” Owen said, sounding uncharacteristically worked up. “I mean, I think about if someone did something like that to me, to the hardware store. It’s not just a store, it’s part of Cove history. I mean, I know change has to happen, growth, but it needs to be responsible. Or at the very least handled with dignity and compassion.”
“Fortunately,” Delia said, happy to hear him say that, “you own your property, so you can rest easy. But you’re right about the rest. Some of us, most of us—shopkeepers I mean, business owners—rent or lease our property. Many of us have done so for generations. In some cases the sons and daughters are leasing their shops from the sons and daughters of the original owners of those same shops. It is important that we pay attention to what’s happening, that we speak up, not just when we disagree with what is being done, but how it’s being done.” She held his arm. “What did Lauren say? About you running?”
“She’s for it,” he said, looking both sheepish and proud. “I’m still getting used to her coming back. Wanting to come back. I had sincerely hoped she would take this degree and do something with it. She’s the first one in my family and her mother’s family to get a degree and, well—”
“But she is doing something with it, Owen. She’s coming back to the Cove and bringing all those book smarts with her. We can’t stay the same, but when we grow, we need to grow responsibly. Lauren will be ready to do that. I think you should be proud of her. It must be a wonderful feeling, knowing she loves you and loves what you’ve built, what her ancestors built.”
“It is,” he said, pure pride shining in his eyes. “And thank you. I am proud of her, don’t get me wrong.” He smiled. “And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy to have her back home again. I’ve missed her. So much.”
There might have been a little shine in his eyes behind his glasses, and Delia wanted to hug him all over again. He was honest, sincere and, most important, real. “Now that you’ve seen what’s gone on here today, and heard how city hall has handled things, are you sure I can’t convince you to reconsider running for mayor? We need you, Owen. You’re the perfect person for the job. You’ve done what we business owners have done and, just as importantly, you have a real and abiding knowledge and respect for the history of this town, while at the same time being young enough to see the potential it has, too. You’ve got Lauren to help you with the store, and being mayor isn’t a full-time job, unless you want it to be.”
His cheeks had taken on a ruddy hue at her effusive praise, but she’d meant every word.
“Peg already cornered me and gave me pretty much the same speech.”
“Owen—”
He raised his hand. “And I told her I’d think about it.”
Delia’s face lit up. “You will?”
He nodded. “No promises, but—oomph!” Whatever else he’d been about to say was cut off by Delia’s tight hug. And his ruddy face went deep red when she gave him a resounding kiss on the cheek.
“That’s all we can ask, Owen. I’ll cater meetings, whatever you need. Well, I will as soon as I figure out where I’m going to start over.”
“Are you then?” he asked, looking greatly relieved.
Delia wasn’t sure if the relief was that she was planning to relaunch her business, or that she’d stopped hugging him. “I am. Or I want to. I’ll figure something out.”
“You tell me when and where and I’ll get the word out.”
“Thank you, Owen. That means a lot.”
“Dee?”
Delia turned to find Ford emerging from the throng behind her. “Ford,” she said, happy to see him, feeling that last piece click into place, settling the part inside her that she couldn’t settle herself. She wondered if it would always be like that. If you’re really lucky, it will be. She rose up on her toes and kissed him. “Can you believe this?” she whispered.
“Frankly, no. I didn’t even know there were this many people in Blueberry Cove.”
He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, and it occurred to Delia this was probably the most folks he’d seen in one place in a very long time.
“I don’t think there are, but it sure looks good on camera.” She smiled. “Have you met Owen Hartley?” But when she turned to make introductions, she saw that Peg had come and steered Owen over toward the row of reporters and news trucks at the edge of the park. Delia wasn’t sure if that was such a great idea, considering Owen’s interest in running was fledgling at best, but she trusted Peg wouldn’t let him get overwhelmed. She turned back to Ford. “He said he’s considering running for mayor. Isn’t that great? If Brooks Winstock thinks he can just bulldoze the Cove into his own personal vision, at the very least he’s not going to have the mayor in his pocket any longer. There needs to be some accountability.”
“Do you think Hartley can stand up to him?”
“You’d be surprised. When Owen is passionate about something, and no one is more passionate about the Cove than he is, he can get pretty worked up. But just having Teddy not in office is a huge thing. And since he’s already tossed his hat in the ring for mayor, he’s off the town council as of election day. If Owen were to run and win, Teddy would be looking for new employment.” Her eyes lit up. “This is very small of me to say, but it just occurred to me that would also mean that for the first time ever, Cami Weathersby won’t have any political clout in this town. I mean, she’ll always be a Winstock, but—”
“Being knocked down a notch or two wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen to her,” Ford finished. “Might improve her.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Delia said wryly. “But a girl can dream.” She slipped her arm around his waist and leaned into him, surprised at how natural it felt. Then, realizing it might not feel as natural to him, and they were literally standing in the middle of the Cove’s entire population, she started to pull away, but he tugged her right back next to his side.
He leaned down and said in her ear, “Don’t abandon me to the horde. I’m going to need tethering at times, too.”
She tipped her face up to his, kissing him hard and fast on the mouth. “Deal,” she said, loving that she was finally able to give back to him even a small fraction of what he’d already been providing for her.
“I came to find you because Grace wanted to talk to you,” he said.
Delia’s grin grew wider. “And here we were worried about her rally idea, right?” She gestured around them. “Ha!”
“Well, she’s quite happy about how things turned out. In fact, she’s already delivered her sisterly I-told-you-so.” At Delia’s confused look, he added, “Her whole reason for wanting to have the party, or rally, was in hopes that if you saw how much you mattered to the town, it w
ould help you figure out what you wanted to do. And . . . I hate to admit it, but she might possibly have had some small smidgen of a point there.”
“Maddox insight,” Delia said. “Sounds like it might be genetic.” She smiled. “I’ll have to keep that in mind, moving forward. I’m outnumbered.”
“Funny,” he said. “I was thinking about you and Grace together and feeling the same thing.”
“Ah! Good point!” She slipped her arm around his waist and turned to look at the crowd. The chanting had stopped, and folks were milling and talking now that she’d made her speech to the reporters. She didn’t imagine they’d see Brooks, Teddy, or Mayor Davis poke their heads out, but as the news ran the stories, there would be demands for statements, and they’d have to at least own up to their roles in the situation, facing more than just their constituents, but also their neighbors. And in the case of Winstock, if she were lucky, some of his business partners farther down the coast. “What does Grace want? Do you know?”
“Delia, there you are!” As if on cue, Grace came all but bursting through the throng of people closest to where they stood. She immediately wrapped Delia up in a tight hug. “I’m so sorry. That was a crap thing they did, on top of all the other crap things they’d already done. I’m so sorry I didn’t see this coming after what they did to me and Brodie.”
Sandpiper Island (The Bachelors Page 28
