by Kait Nolan
“Thank y’all for coming out tonight. As you all know, tomorrow is the public referendum wherein the citizens of Wishful have the opportunity to cast their vote for or against a statute that would institute a size cap on businesses operating within its boundaries. I urge you all to uphold your civic duty and hit up the polls.” She paused, scanning faces. “But that’s not what we’re here to talk about tonight.”
The PowerPoint presentation popped up on the screen behind Norah, but she didn’t give it a glance. “There’s been a slow erosion of the tax base, of profit margins, of straight up population in Wishful for the last twenty or thirty years. What we’re here to talk about is how it got that way and what we can do to stop it.”
Quick and efficient, she spouted relevant statistics, citing the change in population and work force through various stages of the town’s economic downturn as the furniture manufacturing industry, and all the peripheral manufacturing that went with it, moved elsewhere. The malaise that seemed to settle over the assembly was palpable. Cam knew her tactics, trusted they’d work, but he wasn’t any more immune to the spell she was weaving than anyone else.
“Efforts have been made to recruit other industries that could piggyback on the existing infrastructure and workforce remaining from the manufacturing base. But Wishful is having to compete with larger micropolitans, like Lawley. And even if such an industry set up shop, they could leave. Exactly like Heirloom. And then where would Wishful be? Exactly where it is now. Maybe worse.” She paused to take a sip of water and let that sink in.
“More recently there’s been the issue of GrandGoods. A big box store that’s made a lot of empty promises about the benefits it could bring to this community. Now it’s true, if they came, there would likely be some possible short-term benefits. They agreed to contract for local labor to build the store, to use local suppliers for materials where possible. They’ve even agreed to pay for the necessary infrastructure upgrades to accommodate the exponential increase in traffic and utilities. But that’s a slippery slope. Once a place like GrandGoods gains a foothold, then come other chains. Big businesses that don’t know us, don’t care about us, and don’t add value to the quality of life in this town. With that comes the same kind of sprawl, traffic congestion, environmental degradation, loss of community, and the economic and social segregation that’s seen nationwide. And that’s touted by many as progress.” Her eyes narrowed, her voice dripping with a disdain that had the crowd shifting.
“But I’m here to present to you a different vision of progress. One that plays to Wishful’s strengths. The solution lies not in bringing in outsiders to save the town but in leveraging the resources the town already has.”
The first glimmer of positive had the crowd’s focus sharpening. Bodies leaned forward, attentive.
Reel them in, sweetheart.
“So we’re a little caught in the past. We can play to that. Focus on the glory of bygone days and ramp up the nostalgia. Wishful is a little slice of Southern Americana. A place where people can come and remember what life used to be like. A place that's about community and, most of all, about family.” Cam saw her search out Miranda’s parents and nod. “It's something that people in this country so desperately long for in a society that's over-connected and simultaneously as isolated as it’s ever been. Wishful is a place that can remind people of what's really important in life. It can give the most vital resource and commodity of all: hope. Because Wishful is the town where hope springs eternal. Literally. And we can capitalize on that with a fully developed rural tourism campaign.”
Listening to her outline the concept, the assets already in place, and how they might be utilized, Cam recognized the disservice he’d done when he’d pushed her into a quick and dirty presentation for the Council. This was so much more full-bodied and emotionally-charged. All around the room, he could see and sense the tide turning, exactly as she’d said it would.
“Rural tourism has positive benefits for the economy. Most of the revenue generated from outside visitors would stay within the local economy—unlike GrandGoods, whose profits would be returned to the parent company and spent on foreign suppliers. Beyond the gains from direct sales of goods and services to visitors, tourism creates new jobs within the community, which helps prevent population drift and maintains the tax base. Income derived from tourism can help maintain and improve local infrastructure and services, which in turn, improves the quality of life for the community at large. Rural tourism also promotes environmental conservation and protection. GrandGoods came here planning to buy Abe Costello's land and build their store right on the shores of Hope Springs, one of Wishful's greatest assets. Well, that’s not going to happen. I believe so much in what we’re trying to accomplish here that I bought it myself. The property will be donated to the city with express instructions that it be preserved and cultivated into a public park that will benefit locals and tourists alike. Landscape architect Campbell Crawford is here to present the design.”
Norah stepped back, arms open to welcome him onto the stage. With a bracing breath, Cam joined her. Feeling the weight of so many eyes, he wished desperately for something to do with his hands. He took up a position behind the podium and gripped the edges to keep from shoving them in his pockets.
“Those of you who know me know I’ve wanted to put a park out at Hope Springs for years. I’ve toyed with the design off and on, but I never truly thought I’d get the opportunity to make it a reality.”
He shared a long look with Norah that had his nerves smoothing out. She’d done this as much for him as for the town. She’d given him this dream and inspired bigger ones.
“Tonight, I’d like to give the rest of you a glimpse into that reality.”
Behind him, the screen flashed to the first of his slides, and the crowd burst out with audible ooos and ahhs. Through some serious graphic design mojo, Cecily had turned his concept renderings into art that the audience could almost step right into. And that was why someone, someday, was going to pay her the big bucks.
Cam lost himself in the presentation after that, taking his audience on a virtual tour of the park that would both enhance and respect the environmental integrity of his favorite place on earth. By the time he handed the reins back to Norah, he held the assembly in almost as much awe as she did.
“Thanks Cam. That’ll be beautiful.” She waited for him to step down before she continued. “Now I know this may seem pretty out there to some of you, but the fact is that successful small-town development has mostly shifted away from traditional strategies and is now being driven by smaller, local efforts, with a very inward focus. Those towns that have managed to reinvent themselves aren't focused on luring huge corporations that could pick up and leave exactly as Comfort Coil and Heirloom Home Furnishings did. While funding may be national, regional, or state level, the knowledge base and the action is very much local. Small towns are the heart of the South. While other parts of the country are trying to recover a sense of pedestrian scale and small town life, Wishful is right here with all these qualities intact—just waiting for revitalization. The success of such a revitalization will be as a result of historic preservation, sustainable new development and planning. There has, up to this point, been a significant lack of technical planning skills and resources in city government. That’s not meant as a criticism of the system, but a statement of fact. The world has changed and Wishful hasn’t had the economic resources or support needed to change with it.
“That changes today. I stand before you as an authorized representative of Peyton Consolidated. Through their non-profit arm, Peyton Consolidated has been at the helm of numerous urban renewal projects around the country.” Behind her, the slides flashed by as she listed each, showing the dismal befores and the astonishing afters. “With Wishful, Peyton Consolidated wants to expand its mission to include the revitalization of small town America. The Mayor’s Office has been provided with a Memorandum of Understanding from Peyton Consolidated, outlining,
in very clear terms, the funding and resources the company is prepared to leverage in support of this venture. In addition, Wishful has been presented with a mentorship agreement with Balenmore, Colorado, a small-town that’s made rural tourism a rousing success. They’re eager to partner with us in order to help us realize our own rebirth.”
Norah spread her hands, the picture of transparency. “There are no strings here. No hidden agendas. Just the support and resources Wishful needs to bring itself back to life. So think about what you want Wishful to be. Another cookie-cutter, homogenized town, with no cultural identity. Or a beacon of hope in a world where that’s an increasingly rare commodity. The future and the decision are in your hands. Please remember that as you head to the polls tomorrow. Thank you.”
Thunderous applause followed her off the stage and trailed them out the door into the hall.
“You nailed that.”
Norah slipped her hand in his. “We nailed that.”
“You ever think about going into politics? You’d be great at it. Eloquent. Magnetic. Persuasive.”
She shuddered. “No thank you. I’ll leave that to you and your mom.”
“I’m pretty sure all of them would follow you into war.” He tugged her to a stop and pulled her up against him. “I know I’d follow you anywhere.”
“Well they don’t have to go to battle, just to the polls. Let’s hope they turn out in droves and vote the way we want.”
Chapter 25
“It’s a really important vote today. We’ve got volunteer-driven Pollmobiles running in every voting precinct in town until the polls close tonight at nine, so we’re expecting unprecedented turnout.”
Cam did his best to keep his eyes on the reporter interviewing him rather than letting them stray to the enemy camp set up at the other end of the green, but it was a tough thing. The bright orange tents emblazoned with the GrandGoods logo screamed look at us! So did the steady stream of people circulating through them.
“Tell us what the store size cap would mean for Wishful.”
He explained the proposed statute as simply and briefly as he could, thinking Norah would’ve done it with more flare. But the reporter wanted someone from city government and his mother was MIA at the moment.
When he finished, the reporter turned to her cameraman. “Nearly every business in town is displaying posters in support of the size cap, and as you can see from the sea of red YES caps behind me, the proposed law has a lot of supporters. We’ll be back this evening with an update on this important referendum. WTVA News. Deanna Fossett reporting.”
Cam didn’t get to drop his public face once the camera stopped rolling. They needed the press on their side, so he added a layer of charm to go with the serious. “We appreciate y’all coming out to cover this. Can we offer you some coffee? It’s fresh from The Daily Grind.”
“Love some,” Deanna said.
He directed them into the command center tent the Chamber of Commerce had set up at the fountain end of the green. Inside, Norah was running things with her usual efficiency. Behind her, a markerboard held a running tally of total number of voters going through each polling station. It was being updated on the hour. A few hundred so far, but it was early yet. The real rush would be during the lunch hour and after five.
“How did the interview go?”
“Fine. You’d have been better.”
Norah waved that off. “They’ll probably do an update for the noon news, the five o’clock slot, and preliminary results for the ten. We’ll see if we can’t slot your mom in for at least one of those. Maybe Molly for another.”
“What are we going to do about GrandGoods?”
“I’ve sent spies to find out exactly what they’re up to.”
“Spies? I’m afraid to ask.”
“Who do you think volunteered for that task?”
“Cassie. She’s not what you call subtle.”
“Neither is Mamie, who went with her. But this isn’t full scale espionage. It’s just two members of the public cruising through some public event they’ve got going on.”
Those same two members came into the command center at a hustle, not a pace Cam generally associated with Mamie. Cassie was practically bouncing, and Mamie’s bouffant trembled with her agitation.
While the older woman caught her breath, Cassie saluted. “Agents Callister and Landon reporting.”
“I’ve really got to get you walkie talkies.” Norah laughed. “Report in.”
“They’re giving away free stuff.”
“Like koozies, pens, hats?”
“And t-shirts, yeah. But they’re also giving away store memberships and discounts that can be used at any existing store.”
Norah frowned. “Are they asking for anything in return?”
“Just that people hit up the polls, same as us. They’re not even asking for proof in advance.”
“Did they indicate there’s some limit to the number of memberships? Like the first fifty people or whatever?”
“No limit,” Mamie said. “They said they want to support the community and are willing to give out free memberships to back that up. The only thing they’re having people do is show they have a Wishful address. I got a membership myself. Don’t have a clue what I’ll do with it when they don’t come, but I didn’t figure it’d hurt anything.”
“They’re also giving out free pastries,” Cassie added. “Store bought, of course.”
“Oh, hell no.” Carolanne joined the conversation from where she’d been helping coordinate Pollmobile service. “We can do better than that. Give me a team, and I’ll bring my entire inventory out for the cause.”
“Do it.” Norah called in half a dozen volunteers and dispatched them to Sweet Magnolias.
Once they’d gone, Cam did the math. “At, what, fifty bucks a membership, with a potential for up to maybe a couple thousand people. That’s a hundred grand loss right there. Plus whatever they’ve put into their branded merchandise.”
“A hundred thousand dollars is a drop in the bucket for a company like that. They’d make exponentially more than that if they secured a place in the region. Plus, if they don’t end up coming, they haven’t truly lost that much because many of those people won’t ever go to one of the other GrandGoods stores before the annual membership expires. It’s a smart tactic.”
The whole thing had Cam worried.
As usual, Norah read him like a book. She moved in, slipping her arms around his waist. “It will be all right. You just—”
“Have to have a little faith. I know. I’ve got all the faith in the world in you.”
“Then it’s time you put your faith in them.” She nodded toward the masses.
That feat would’ve been considerably easier to accomplish had his nemesis not chosen that moment to stroll into the tent. Vick flashed his too white teeth like a shark. “Well good morning to you Councilman, Miss Burke.”
“Burgess,” Cam said.
“We’re having a fine turnout to the polls and an exceptional response to our promotion. Why, everybody’s jumping at the chance for a free year’s membership to GrandGoods. We’ve given away six hundred memberships already today.”
A number almost equal to the last hour’s tally at the polls. It didn’t mean anything. Logically, Cam knew that. There’d be people who’d take the deal and vote for the size cap anyway. There would likely even be people who’d take the membership and not vote at all. But some would feel that psychological contract and vote in favor of the store. The question was how many would be wooed.
“It’s still early. There are nearly three thousand more people who can vote in this town. And I promise you, the majority won’t care about GrandGoods’ empty promises.”
Vick shook his head in pity. “When are you going to get it through your head, Crawford? GrandGoods is going to be good for this town.”
“They’ve certainly been good to you, haven’t they, Vick?” Sandra stepped into the tent, trailed by a handful of other
people. Leigh Billingsly, the City Comptroller, looked pissed. Jay Quimby, the resident tech guru, looked smug. Officer Judd Hamilton looked deceptively at ease, but beneath the calm exterior, Cam recognized the same coiled readiness for action he’d displayed on the defensive line of the Wishful Stars football team back in high school. Not until the appearance of Chief Curry, bringing up the rear, did Vick’s confident expression falter.
“I beg your pardon?” he asked, innocence with a layer of affront.
“Well, you know how we’ve been doing system upgrades at City Hall the last couple of weeks?” Sandra asked. “Jay, here, found some…concerning emails on your computer.”
“Email is private.”
“In fact, it’s not. Everything you do on your work computer is technically the business of the city since your business is to help run the city. So imagine our surprise when Jay brought to our attention a string of emails between you and Bill Sutto, making it clear that you’ve been taking kickbacks from GrandGoods.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Vick began to tug at his collar.
Cam was dimly aware that everyone in the tent had fallen silent, watching the show.
“Turns out, that was plenty of evidence for Judge Carpenter to let us subpoena your bank records,” Chief Curry said. “You’ve been a bad bad boy, Vick. Our forensic accountant is still going through it to determine the total amount, but at first pass, it looks like, in addition to getting all cozy with GrandGoods, you’ve embezzled over a hundred thousand dollars from the city.”
“This is ludicrous!”
“What’s ludicrous is the fact that you are sworn to work in the best interests of this town and its people and instead you’ve been abusing your position to line your own pockets.” Sandra’s voice crackled with temper.
