Emma wanted to tell him, I don’t leap without looking. But he wouldn’t believe her. He’d spent nearly fifteen years forming an impression of her as someone he and his sister should avoid. Emma wanted to tell him, You can’t cover yourself in bubble wrap the rest of your life. Instead she said, “You can’t hover over Tracy the rest of her life.”
“Why not?” He held himself very still, as if he wanted to be swayed by her logic.
“Because she deserves the right to choose her own road, be it safe or risky.”
Will shook his head. “She tried your way, Emma. It’s better if she stays on my road from now on.”
“Don’t do this.” Emma touched his shoulder as he turned to go. “You’ll lose her.”
Will turned back, his gaze anguished. “Can you guarantee I won’t lose her if I let her go her own way?”
Emma couldn’t. No one could.
CHAPTER SIX
WILL WAS THE first to arrive in the small, one-hundred-year-old church where the town council held its meetings. He’d tried all afternoon to shake off Emma’s warning that his form of protection would push Tracy away. He’d attempted to forget the sincerity in Emma’s explanation, to ignore how listening to her threatened to erode his sense of purpose. What he felt didn’t matter. Keeping Tracy safe did.
Would Tracy forgive her, even if Will couldn’t? He feared the answer was yes.
The meeting started in less than an hour. Will forced himself to shut out thoughts of Emma and concentrate on the task at hand. He needed the council to set aside their no-growth policy and rezone their land for commercial use so that Harmony Valley could thrive another one hundred and fifty years.
No sound disturbed the church. The sun elbowed its way through the grimy side windows, past ancient wooden pews, flooding the entry with dust motes and light. The church had been built so the morning sun would illuminate the minister delivering his sermon. The altar was shadowed now and the place smelled musty. No matter. Will planned to set up his laptop and projector so his PowerPoint presentation could be seen on the wall behind the now-gloomy pulpit.
Flynn and Slade came in behind him, their feet echoing on the wooden planked floor.
Slade paused to give each of them a brief once-over. It wasn’t every day Flynn and Will wore suits and ties.
“About time you guys showed some class.” Slade approved their outfits with a nod.
The three men proceeded up the aisle to set up the presentation.
While they worked, nerves wavered in Will’s gut. There was more at stake than a new business venture, but he had to appear confident and put forth their strongest arguments.
Once the laptop was powered up, the projector connected and the PowerPoint presentation showing on the front wall, Will flipped through a few pages, including their architectural renderings of the new buildings. Since the wall behind the pulpit had been plastered over, it wasn’t the smoothest of screens or the sharpest of images, but everything was visible.
“Oh. My. God,” Tracy said from the back of the church.
“I thought this was a small winery,” their dad added, coming in behind her. “And why does it look like a mission? The Franciscans never settled this far north.”
“The mission style says California.” And Will liked how the arches resembled those at Stanford—orderly, established, impressive.
“Wrong. For H-H-Harmony. Valley. Too big.”
“There goes another supporter,” Slade muttered.
“It’s not too big.” Will spared Tracy a glance that he hoped disguised his irritation. He was tired of fighting with her on everything.
“We’re not going to build a mom-and-pop operation,” Flynn said, as if sensing Will needed backup.
“Too big,” Tracy repeated.
The door to the church opened and Emma blew in, as if ushered forward by a strong wind.
* * *
“TRACY!” HEART POUNDING apprehensively, Emma nearly bowled Tracy over as she enveloped her in a tight hug.
Tracy’s halfhearted reception doused Emma in doubt.
Was Will right? Was Tracy not ready to see her?
Will stood at the altar, as still and silent as if he were a religious relic. Only his eyes gave away his feelings. Don’t hurt her, they said.
Emma nodded, ever so subtly, to let him know she understood. And then she let Tracy go.
Granny Rose stepped through the doorway. “It’s our precious Tracy.” She gave Tracy a hug. It was hard to tell who was thinner or frailer.
Emma drew a breath and held on to her carefully honed patience. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you. I felt so bad about the accident.” She hesitated. She didn’t want to hurt Will, not now that she knew why he’d kept her away, but she had to let Tracy know she hadn’t abandoned her. “I’ve been trying to come visit, but no one would let me in.”
“No. One?” Tracy glanced at Will and then her father, her mouth pulling to one side in the start of a scowl.
Will’s scowl was already in place.
“But none of that matters now.” Emma smiled gently. “You’re here and I’m here.”
Other residents streamed into the church before Emma could say anything more. They also greeted Tracy, who acknowledged each with a small smile and a nod.
“Do you want to sit together and catch up before the meeting?” Emma asked her as soon as there was a break.
Tracy cast a nervous glance around the church. “No.”
Emma had lost her.
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. She could only stand and stare at the woman who used to be the one person she shared everything with.
“Not. Here.” Tracy turned back to Emma. “My h-house. Tomorrow. Nine.”
Emma had researched aphasia when Granny Rose had told her that was what Tracy struggled with. She knew it affected her speech. But listening to her friend was different. Each of Tracy’s labored words cut a tiny piece from Emma’s heart.
“Thank you. Oh, thank you.” Emma hugged Tracy again.
But this time Tracy stood as stiff and unbending as the old oak tree in the town square.
* * *
“MADAME SECRETARY, DO we have any old business?” Larry Finkelstein, Harmony Valley’s mayor, spoke with all the enthusiasm of a clairvoyant foretelling bad news on the cloudy horizon. From the council’s table on the altar, the gray-haired former hippie’s words reverberated through the church as the sun dipped behind the mountains bordering the valley.
Emma shifted in the creaky front-row pew, looking at Tracy, who sat on the opposite bench with Will, Flynn and Slade. Her cheeks were pink, but sunken. Her faded jeans and pea-green T-shirt hung off her bony frame, the drab clothing breathing more life than Tracy herself.
After agreeing to meet, Tracy had stayed as far away from Emma as possible. Was she embarrassed by her condition? Or, as Will implied, was their friendship irrevocably broken and tomorrow’s meeting just a formality?
Emma’s fingers twined tightly together.
Unanswered questions lined up like planes waiting to land at the airport. Did Tracy bear any other physical effects from the accident? She hadn’t limped. Did her aphasia limit her ability to text or type? Had she thought about returning to work or their shared apartment in the city? Was she confident enough to try?
Emma would have to wait until tomorrow to find out.
She hoped Will would let her in.
Will. He sat ramrod straight, as if he were a general about to rally the troops.
Emma’s pulse kicked up in artistic appreciation. Will’s profile was worthy of a talented sketch artist. Straight nose, strong chin, every blond hair in place. His charcoal pinstripe suit and soft gray shirt blended together with just the right pop of color from a swirling-patterned burgundy tie. Dressed for business,
Will embodied everything cold and calculated about corporate America.
In her scuffed shoes, pink cotton skirt and green blouse, Emma felt positively dowdy. But she and the town didn’t have to spruce themselves up to present a good image. Harmony Valley was a last, rare slice of Americana, as untouched by corporate America as Granny Rose.
Still, Emma had to give Will some respect. He hadn’t made a scene when she’d talked to Tracy. He’d stood his ground and accepted Tracy’s decision, which must have been hard for him considering what he thought of her and the lengths he’d gone to all these months to keep her away.
Will caught Emma looking at him. He quirked an eyebrow as if to say she shouldn’t get her hopes up.
She smirked at him before glancing over her shoulder, counting nearly forty people in the six-pew church. That was more than half the town. She hoped none of them liked whatever Will was about to say.
Mildred Parsons, the council’s secretary, cleared her throat. “Mr. Jackson’s zoning permits are up for review tonight.” Mildred patted her white, teased curls and gave Will a broad smile that traced the round lines of her oval face. “Do you have anything new to present to us today, Mr. Jackson?”
“Yes.” Will’s confident voice rang up to the church rafters.
The crack of Mayor Larry’s gavel on the council table echoed through the church. “Mr. Jackson has the floor for ten minutes.”
Will stood, holding a remote control device smaller than Emma’s car-key fob.
Given Harmony Valley’s sleepy character, Emma expected this to go about as well as a Democrat presenting at the Republican convention. But then she happened to glance at Mrs. Chambers, who’d been sitting behind Will. The older woman’s wrinkled, full-cheeked smile was positively dreamy. And aimed directly at Will. Other gray-haired women in Mrs. Chambers’s vicinity looked at Will with the same worshipful expression. What was going on here?
Considering Granny Rose’s comments, Emma hadn’t expected much support for the winery. Now she wasn’t so sure.
Will thanked the council and the town for the opportunity to present to them again. His practiced smile elicited sighs from many of the female members of the audience.
Granny Rose scowled. Mayor Larry tugged at the neck of his blue tie-dyed T-shirt and studied the crowd as if gauging their reaction. Twenty years younger than Rose, he’d always been one to follow popular opinion, hence his eight terms in office.
Emma looked to Tracy to see what she thought of Will winning over a gaggle of grandmas.
Tracy blessed her brother with a sisterly eye roll.
Will noticed. His smile dimmed. “Harmony Valley was established in 1851 by a group of forty-niners who hadn’t had much luck panning for gold anywhere else.” Will brought up a faded picture of two bearded gold miners and their pack mules.
A series of faded black-and-white photos depicting the town’s history followed in a slow slideshow on the wall. “Through the years, Harmony Valley has been a trading post, a sheep ranch and eventually was subdivided into smaller family farms, one of which was an outlaw’s hideout.”
“That’d be my great-grandfather Nedderman.” Councilwoman Agnes Villanova was so short she looked like a child sitting at a table of adult councilors. She stretched her short frame pridefully upward until she almost reached Rose’s shoulder. “They called him Big Nose Ned.” She beamed at Will, who proceeded to talk about several slides that looked like eye charts with tiny numbers showing years of neglect to infrastructure, declining tax revenue and negative population growth.
Emma’s eyes glazed. She crossed one leg over the other, bouncing her foot lightly to keep herself awake. The figures Will showed were like Greek to Emma, but his verbal summary was depressing. When had things gotten so bad? She’d known the population had declined significantly, but she hadn’t realized Harmony Valley was on the brink of becoming a ghost town.
Emma shot another glance Tracy’s way, but Tracy was studying the charts with a frown.
“Historically, Harmony Valley has changed in response to the times.” Will worked the audience with eye contact as he paced the space in front of Emma’s pew. For a man who’d made his fortune designing programs for computers, he was surprisingly at ease in front of a crowd. “The stimulus for that change has always been the local economy. When the gold didn’t pan out, ranching took over. When ranching played out, the grain mill opened. And then there was an accident at the grain mill.” Will paused.
Collectively, the town seemed to honor their dead with a moment of silence.
“Now, ladies and gentleman, it’s time for Harmony Valley to make another change—to become an exclusive wine destination.” Will stopped in front of Emma, blocking her view of the presentation.
She stopped her foot from bouncing and craned her neck so she could see around him.
With a click of a button, Will brought up an architect’s rendering of a huge California-style mission dominating a small vineyard. It was as if extraterrestrial missionaries had landed their mother ship. Gone was the hundred-year-old Henderson farmhouse. Gone was the Hendersons’ red barn with its metal corrugated roof. Gone was the quaint, small-town charm of Harmony Valley.
Pews creaked as bodies shifted for a better look. Unintelligible murmurs filled the church like an out-of-sync choir.
Larry rapped the gavel against his palm. “Is that your corporate office or the winery? In either case I don’t want it near my house.”
“I can’t tell what it is.” Mildred squinted at the wall, rotating her head as if trying to focus her thick trifocals.
Next to Mildred, Agnes was frowning.
Rose crossed her arms over her skinny chest. “In this case, young man, size does matter.”
The crowd’s rumblings built, popping like kernels of popcorn.
Emma couldn’t contain her grin. Where were Will’s supporters now?
If Will had any doubts, he didn’t show it. He spoke in an authoritative voice that carried over the crowd and drew their attention back to him. “In addition to the winery, our partnership is willing to invest in town, opening businesses in the town square. A gift shop. A five-star restaurant. And a wine-tasting shop.” His renderings showed soulless glass windows, modern interiors and a stark-white tablecloth establishment with a sleek bar. “This will move us to a tourism-based economy that will take Harmony Valley into the current century. Other businesses will return. In five years, we’re projecting we can attract contractors to build a new housing tract, perhaps as large as one hundred new homes.”
At the town council table, Mayor Larry pounded his gavel harder on the table, Agnes rubbed a hand over her forehead and Granny Rose’s mouth gaped open. Mildred still squinted at the wall.
Will was unflappable. “This increase in population and their need to be linked with the outside world will require changes to the town square.” A complete view of the new town square flashed on the wall. A chrome-and-steel gazebo with a towering pole replaced the oak tree. The circumference of the square was reduced by more than half in order to make way for extra parking and a stoplight. “Our communications tower in the town square will provide each resident with free wireless internet and make cell-phone service possible in the valley for the first time. And people will attribute this council with the imagination and confidence to launch that change.”
Someone behind Emma made a sound of disgust. A voice in the back muttered angrily.
At any moment someone in the pews would stand up and shout a protest. At any moment a council member would move to reject Will’s proposal. At any moment...
“What have you done to the town square?” Rose looked puzzled. “Where are we supposed to gather? To hold events like the Spring Festival and the Summer Fair? What you’re proposing is a complete change to who we are.”
Finally, the voice of reason. Seconded by many v
oices in the crowd.
But not by Granny Rose’s peers on the council table. They still seemed dumbfounded.
“Where’s the oak tree in the town square?” Rose demanded.
“We plan to replace it with a hot-spot gazebo.” Will kept smiling. It was a smile Emma recognized. The one the boss gave you when he told you he liked the work you’d done and then turned around and rejected it completely. Insert knife in back.
“A hot spot?” Her grandmother’s expression pinched with uncompromising wrinkles. “Young man, we don’t abide that kind of behavior in this town.”
To his credit, Will didn’t chuckle at Rose’s misunderstanding. “It’s a communications tower housed in a chrome-and-steel gazebo with a solar-powered fan. It’s called a hot spot because of the signal it sends out.”
Rose huffed. “The tree stays. And the lawn. And you can remove the traffic light while you’re at it.”
There were murmurs of approval.
“Is that the town square? All I see is gray.” Mildred squinted. If only she could see, maybe she’d regret asking Will and his friends to start a business in Harmony Valley.
“You’re trying to erase our history, not build upon our roots,” Mayor Larry said in a voice loud enough to reach those in the back of the church too proud to wear hearing aids. “When you first came to us with this proposal, I assumed you were talking about a small winery that would blend into the landscape, not change everything. What’s the square footage on that monstrous building you showed? How many visitors are you projecting each day?”
Emma wasn’t sure if Mayor Larry had read the mood of the room or was still offended by the mission-style mother ship being parked across from his house. Either way, Will wasn’t likely to receive approval to rezone his land. The council was clearly split. Emma attempted to signal Granny Rose to make a motion. But her grandmother had a faraway look in her eyes.
“We’re trying to turn the fortunes of Harmony Valley around,” Will insisted with the composure an experienced trial lawyer used with prickly juries. “Position it for future growth and sustainability. Bring back the medical clinic. Reopen our schools and fire station. Build parks and playgrounds for your grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Create a town where families don’t have to move away to chase jobs. Where generations of residents live together. Wouldn’t you like your family to live down the block?”
Dandelion Wishes Page 6
