She patted my hand. “You spoke from your heart, my darling. They’ll listen.”
Sally gave me a big kiss on my cheek and whispered in my ear, “Your speech was perfect, and you look divine.”
We sat back down when Mr. Meers yelled for quiet again. “One more warning, and I will personally throw all of you out of here.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Kate muttered under her breath. She sat behind me. We both giggled so hard our shoulders shook. Stress induced but still pretty funny.
“If there is no one else left to speak, the council will adjourn to a private chamber to vote on this matter.”
Mr. Meeks looked around the room. His mouth set in a hard line, and he was about to raise his gavel when I heard someone shout from the back of the room. “Wait. I have something to say.”
We all turned around to see Matthew walking down the aisle. He wore a beautiful suit, and his hair was pulled back in a tidy ponytail at the nape of his neck. He looked less like a sexy French pirate and more like a cover model for GQ.
His eyes met mine as he passed our seats. He leaned over to whisper in my ear, “Don’t worry. It’s going to be fine.”
I wanted to pull him aside and talk to him but couldn’t. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.” My voice was a worried hiss.
He flashed me a smile. “I live for trouble. That’s why I like you so much,” he said, winking at me.
Mr. Meers glared at Matthew. “And who are you?”
“I’m Matthew Monroe, sir.” Matthew’s voice was deep and confident. He wasn’t shaking. He didn’t even seem nervous. “I would have been here sooner but was instructed to go to the conference room upstairs and got locked inside. Since I had no cell phone reception in this building, I couldn’t call for help. Fortunately, I found a window and slipped out.”
Mr. Meers seemed skeptical. “From the conference room . . . on the second floor?”
“Yes. There was a tree near the window. I used it to climb down.”
“Who would lock you in that room and why?” asked Mr. Meers. He looked like he could use a drink.
Matthew’s gaze went to the row of men from Anderson Solutions. Scott and Harrison slouched down even deeper in their seats, and I rolled my eyes. They’d locked Matthew in that room. The people from Anderson seemed to know it as well.
Matthew turned to me, a bunch of emotions flickering across his face. This was the moment of truth, and we both knew it. “People who didn’t want me to speak,” he said. “Because I’m here to represent Mr. Alexander McAlister. I’m his grandson.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
A woman is like a tea bag. You never know how strong she is
until you toss her in hot water.
~Aunt Francesca~
I sat as still as a stone. Matthew’s gaze stayed on my face, and he spoke directly to me. “My grandfather wanted to find out what was happening on his block, and he needed to hear about it from someone he trusted.”
I nodded, even though I wasn’t thinking clearly. Matthew gave me a little smile. Auntie Mags reached over me to grasp mom’s hand. “Claire, he’s Anna’s boy.”
“Anna?” I asked.
Mom got teary. “Our friend, the one who died in that car crash so many years ago.”
“She was Mr. McAlister’s daughter?”
Auntie Mags nodded. “That’s why Matthew looked familiar to me. He’s the image of his mom.”
Mr. Meers’s attitude toward Matthew changed immediately. I guessed that happened a lot when a person had a billionaire for a grandfather. That thought made me a little nauseated. I could handle the hippie musician I’d fallen in love with and the talented architect I’d gotten to know. I wasn’t sure how to handle someone of Matthew’s obvious wealth and status. It was way beyond my comfort zone.
“Has your grandfather made a decision yet, Mr. Monroe?” asked Mr. Meers, giving Matthew an extremely ingratiating smile.
“Yes, indeed he has, Mr. Meers.” Matthew turned, and his eyes rested once again on my face. “The South Side has always held a special place in my grandfather’s heart. This was where he came when he emigrated from Scotland. He raised his family here. He made his fortune here. But he left when my mom died because the memories were too painful for him.”
This elicited another round of weeping from my mom and Auntie Mags. I gave each of them pats on their backs, trying to comfort them.
Sally cried too. “I can’t help it,” she whispered. “I’ve been so emotional lately. And this is better than a soap opera.”
Matthew continued. “I’ve been in constant contact with my grandfather. I told him about what I’ve seen on the 1600 block, including the historical architecture and sense of community Ms. Campbell spoke so eloquently about.” This caused me to blush yet again, and Matthew continued. “I also witnessed firsthand the relentless and undeserved bullying the Campbells have endured from the people at Anderson Solutions.”
Mr. Smith stood up, veins bulging in his neck. “Those people have poisoned you with their lies.”
“Those people had no idea who I was, Mr. Smith. They found out about a minute ago. I speak from my own observations, and I have every right.”
Mr. Smith looked like he wanted to say a lot more, but Mr. Meers shut him down. “You had your chance to speak, Mr. Smith. The floor belongs to Mr. Monroe right now.”
Matthew gave Mr. Meers a gracious nod. “I owed it to my grandfather to find out the real story. I promised him I wouldn’t tell anyone, and I kept that promise, even when it was difficult. And thanks to all of you, I finally found out the truth.”
He looked over the crowd. “The South Side has gotten a lot of bad press lately. It seems like people want to focus on the bars and the drinking and all the ugliness that can come from those things. But when I stayed in the South Side, I discovered so much more. It is a thriving artistic community. A place where holistic and alternative medicine practitioners offer their services, and vintage clothing can be purchased. It is a place with unique shops and wonderful restaurants.” He winked at Rosie. “I had the most delicious pancakes at Pamela’s, and the best coffee in the world is served at the Enchanted Garden.”
Mom gave him a tremulous smile. Matthew grinned at her. “As Ms. Campbell told you, the Enchanted Garden is a designated historical landmark. I strongly suspect the other buildings on the 1600 block are eligible for that status as well.”
This caused some grumbling from the Anderson group. Matthew held up a hand to silence them. “As an architect who has worked almost exclusively on restoring buildings of historical significance, I can attest I have carefully inspected these properties, and almost every single one of the buildings deserves historical landmark status. I plan to personally submit a petition to the National Park Service to create a historic district in the South Side that stretches from the 1400 block to the 1800 block so the entire area can be preserved for future generations.”
This made the crowd jump to their feet. Mr. Meers didn’t threaten them or ask them to sit down. He sat back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach. It was Matthew who made the crowd quiet down, simply by raising a hand.
“And so, it is my honor to tell you that my grandfather will not sell these buildings to Anderson, and we are in the process of creating a trust so they cannot be torn down at any time in the foreseeable future.”
My heart felt like it was going to explode in my chest. I rose to my feet with the crowd as they clapped and cheered.
Mr. Smith was not pleased. He rushed on stage and leaned forward to speak into the microphone. “What about the city ordinances? The Enchanted Garden will still be closed, and if the council decides the parking lot is necessary, it doesn’t matter if your grandfather wishes to sell or not, Mr. Monroe.”
Janet ran to the podium. She squeezed in between Mr. Smith and Matthew. She was so tiny her head barely reached Matthew’s shoulder, and she had to stand on her tiptoes to reach the microphone.
“I am ha
ppy to say you are incorrect, Mr. Smith. The new ordinance you so blatantly tried to sneak past us is invalid in the case of any building that is a historical landmark because the National Park Service designates landmarks, not the city. Federal statutes, in this case, supersede local ordinances since Ms. Campbell had the foresight to apply for federal funding.”
“But she doesn’t even know if she’ll get it . . .”
“It doesn’t matter. As soon as the process begins, the status changes. As did the status of the Enchanted Garden Café. At exactly three o’clock this morning.”
I looked at Ralph. “You were up until three applying for the grant? You’re a rock star.”
He wiggled his eyebrows at me. “Yes, I am.”
Janet continued, her gaze on Mr. Smith. “I would think your lawyers would have told you that, especially after you attempted to hide the landmark status from my client.”
Mr. Smith glared at her. “This is an outrage.”
“That’s one thing we can agree on.” Janet took a deep breath. “Officer Belfiore. It’s time.”
Officer Belfiore came from the back of the room, all eyes on him. He whispered something to Moses, and Moses nodded, looking a bit perplexed. Officer Belfiore patted him on the shoulder and wheeled him out of the room.
As soon as the door shut behind them, Janet looked straight at Harrison. “Tampering with the US mail is a federal offense, and I am going to suggest strongly to my clients that charges be filed immediately, but I have a feeling there are other charges you should be worried about, Mr. Philips. Like assault and attempted homicide. You can take it from here, Officer Miller.”
“Attempted homicide? What are they talking about?” Scott asked as Officer Miller approached from the back of the room.
Harrison was so pale the freckles on his cheeks stood out like polka dots. “Shut up, Lipmann, before you make it worse.”
“You think this can get worse?”
Officer Miller stood at the end of their row of seats. “Come this way, gentlemen.”
“Wait. Both of us?” asked Scott.
“Both of you,” said Officer Miller, acting less than amused.
For a second, Harrison looked like he might run, but he soon realized there was no way out. He’d have to fight his way through a mob of hippies from the South Side to even get close to an exit. Scott’s face grew positively green, and I thought he might throw up. It was painful to watch.
After they left the room, Mr. Meers looked at Janet and his fellow council members. “Well. That was an unusual council meeting. I think it’s safe to say we’ve heard enough on this matter, and we should take a vote. Would you feel comfortable voting here?”
The ten members of the council nodded, and Mr. Meers asked them, “Should Anderson Solutions be permitted to buy the 1600 block of the South Side in order to build their parking garage?”
He called each member by name, and each stood up to say, “Nay.” By the fifth vote, the Anderson people gathered together their things. By the eighth vote, they slithered out of the building. I ignored them. I only had eyes for Matthew.
He shook hands with Janet and each of the council members and then ran down the steps two at a time to reach me. He lifted me up into his arms and swung me around. I clung to him, my hands on his shoulders and my feet dangling above the ground. His strong arms were wrapped around my waist as I gave him little kisses all over his face.
He looked up at me, his eyes shining. “Tell me again.”
I giggled and whispered in his ear, “I love you, Matthew Monroe.”
“I love you too. And that was a brilliant move with the grant.”
“I got lucky. Ralph, it turns out, is a professional grant writer. And you gave me the idea.”
He kissed me so thoroughly I forgot we were in front of a room full of people. It wasn’t until I heard catcalls that I realized we had an audience. Again.
Matthew laughed and spun me around once more before putting me back on my feet. He didn’t let go, though. He kept me tucked close to his side. Right where I belonged.
Mom and Auntie Mags came over and kissed him on the cheek. “Matthew. Our hero. And we loved your mom so much . . .” Mom cried again and couldn’t continue.
Auntie Mags tried to finish for her. “She would have been so proud of you today.” Her face crumbled, but she took a deep breath and managed to stop it from becoming a complete weep fest.
Janet and her father, Paddy, came up to us. Paddy rolled his eyes. “Bunch of emotional women,” he said with a thick Irish brogue. He reached out to shake Matthew’s hand. “Your mom worked with both of these sobbing ninnies to save my shop when you were just a wee babe. We would have lost everything if not for them, and we never would have been able to afford that fancy law school for our Janet.”
Janet gave her father a punch on the arm. “What my dad is trying to say is years ago your mom saved our pub, and today you saved the whole district. Thank you, Matthew.”
As they talked among themselves, I pulled Matthew’s head down to give him one quick yet thorough kiss.
“What was that for?” he asked, his eyes bemused. The fire burning between us was constant. It only took a tiny spark to make it ignite.
“Nothing.” I gave him another quick peck. “I can’t seem to stop kissing you.”
“Don’t ever try,” he murmured against my lips, and I grinned.
I grabbed the garbage bag with the shoes in it out from under my chair. Matthew looked at it curiously.
“What is that?” he asked.
“Um. Scott’s shoes. He thought he lost them. I found them. Sort of. Harrison stole them.”
“What are you talking about, Fiona?”
I winced, pulling him aside. “I may have broken into Harrison’s apartment. Well, it wasn’t exactly breaking in. We had a key.”
His face darkened. “Was this before or after he attacked you?”
“Before. But I don’t think he has any idea it was me. I’m not stupid. I didn’t give my name or anything.”
He looked inside the bag. “But you stole a dirty pair of shoes?”
I tucked a lock of hair nervously behind my ear. “They had my mom’s letter. I wanted to see if they’d taken anything else. I found these by accident. Are you mad?”
His mouth was set in a grim line. “Furious. The idea of you going into that apartment . . . what if he’d been in there, waiting for you?”
I reached up to stroke his cheek. “He wasn’t and I’m fine, but I’ll stick to baking from now on and leave the crime solving to the proper authorities. Although it was kind of fun, the whole breaking and entering thing.” He gave me a sharp look, and I giggled. “I’m kidding.”
We walked out of the town hall hand in hand. When we got outside, we stood next to Mom and Moses. Harrison was being read his rights, and Scott stood next to him, his back to us, running a shaking hand through his hair. Moses stared first at Harrison, but soon his gaze went to Scott.
“Officer Belfiore,” he said. “May I please have a word?”
“Certainly.” Officer Miller waited with Harrison, and Officer Belfiore came over to speak with Moses. “What is it, sir? We’re nearly finished here. I need your statement before I take Mr. Philips down to the station.”
Moses sat up straight. “There is a little problem with that plan,” he said softly. “Mr. Philips isn’t the man I saw in Claire’s office. He is.”
He pointed straight at Scott, and Scott’s eyes widened in surprise. “Me? I wasn’t even there that night. It’s not possible.”
“You were there all right,” said Mindy. “And as drunk as a skunk. You both took off and left me standing in front of the café alone. I had to get a cab home.”
“You’re a liar, Mindy,” said Scott.
“No, she’s not.” They swung their heads to look at me. Suddenly, it seemed so clear. All the puzzle pieces had come together. “And I have proof.” I held out the garbage bag and handed it to Officer Belfiore. As soon as Har
rison saw it, he got so pale I thought he might faint.
“What is that?” asked Scott. He had no idea what was going on.
“Ask Harrison,” I said. “He knows.”
Scott looked at him, and Harrison shook his head. “I have no idea what she’s talking about. I’ve never seen that bag in my life.”
Officer Belfiore opened the bag and showed Scott the contents. He frowned in confusion. “My shoes? Why would you have my shoes, Fiona?”
“Harrison stole them from you. I have a feeling you were too drunk that night to even notice.”
Scott ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Why would Harrison steal my shoes?”
“To cover your tracks. And his. Do you remember when you lost them? It was the night Moses was attacked.”
Harrison’s face turned so red it was nearly purple. “You little . . .”
He couldn’t finish his sentence. Officer Belfiore pulled him away. Office Miller cuffed Scott, pulling his hands behind his back.
“It looks like this is a twofer,” he said with a chuckle.
“Wait,” said Harrison. “Why am I still being taken in? He said he saw Scott, not me.”
Officer Belfiore took notes. He answered Harrison without looking up. “Mr. Richards saw Mr. Lipmann in Claire’s office, but that doesn’t mean Mr. Lipmann is the one who hurt him.”
Harrison spluttered. “He said it was Scott. You heard the old man. We all heard him. And his blood is on Scott’s shoes, for God’s sake.”
We all froze. “It’s interesting you know what’s on his shoes, Mr. Philips,” said Officer Miller. “Considering we never showed you what is in the bag.”
Harrison’s eyes widened in panic. “That doesn’t prove anything. You have no right to take me in. I’m calling my lawyer.”
“Go ahead,” said Officer Belfiore. “But we have enough cause to bring you in with or without the shoes. They are the icing on the cake.”
“What do you mean?” asked Harrison.
“Mr. Lipmann stood at the desk. Mr. Richards was hit from behind. Unless Mr. Lipmann can be at two places at once, I’d say he’s the thief and you’re the assailant.”
The Enchanted Garden Cafe Page 26
