by D. F. Jones
“Son, I admire your willingness to help a friend. But the contract has gone up for a bid to expand the parking lot. I don’t have the power to stop the process. If we had alternative parking, that might be an option. But it would have to be adjacent to the park. And the negotiations and financing would take several months, anyway. I’m sorry, but there’s not much I can do.”
They discussed the process for filing an objection, which would likely result in another, but a more official apology from the commission. Once the contract was awarded, the construction company would immediately begin cutting up the park in preparation for laying the asphalt. He didn’t have much time to fight this thing and keep the Food Truck Coalition happy too.
He left Pritchett with a handshake and a heavy heart. His picnic with Rachel was bound to be a disappointment when he gave her the news. He’d have to think of something to cheer her up.
Because Rachel Diaz didn’t like to lose.
Her third day in the park was the most pleasant so far. She should be getting tired of sitting under that tree, but it had become an old friend once again. Even the scratchy rope was a comfort, because for the first time in years, she had hope.
Hope that she was doing the right thing.
Hope that she might win this fight and save the park from being desecrated.
And most of all, hope for her and Cash. Last night, he had been so sincere, so attentive. Maybe they had both matured enough to give their love another try.
Bella sat nearby, sipping coffee. Some of Rachel’s new friends, folks who frequented the park, had come to check on her and say hello. Even the grumpy old man who had warned about the folly of her stunt waved a cheery hello as he walked by with Stella, his dog, on their morning walk.
It was going to be a good day. She felt it in her bones.
It was close to noon when she saw Cash, and her heart rate accelerated. The chief cause was how well his blue polo shirt with his food truck company logo fit across his chest, and how his biceps were displayed as he carried a small cooler. Those arms had held her tight last night as they kissed. And kissed and kissed….
Making up for lost time, indeed.
She smiled as he approached, but he didn’t return her enthusiasm. In fact, he looked as though he’d rather be anywhere else. Had she misread him?
He placed the cooler on the ground and knelt on the edge of the beach towel Rachel sat upon. He leaned in for a quick kiss, and she acquiesced, still curious as to his strange demeanor.
“What’s wrong, Cash?”
He sighed. “That obvious, huh?”
“Yes. Having second thoughts?”
His blue eyes widened as he realized the import of her question.
“Huh? No, not at all. I met with a man on the planning commission this morning. I tried every angle, but it looks like they are going ahead with the parking lot expansion. Everything is already in motion. I’m sorry.”
Her hope deflated. She had known it was a long shot. They were going to kill her family’s tree. Would their luck be swept away along with the debris?
“I don’t care. I’m staying.”
Cash’s eyes spoke volumes, but he said nothing. Bella spoke, breaking the strained silence.
“She was on the news last night, and we’re over a million views of her videos. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“Nope. The commission gets flack for most of their decisions. He said an alternative parking lot might help, but there was not enough time to negotiate for and purchase one, if it even existed.”
Rachel leaned back against the tree. She hated to give in when there was still a shred of hope.
“I appreciate that you tried. But I can’t give up yet. There has to be another way.”
She had never felt like more of a fool than she did at that moment. She had lost, but her pride and her sense of duty wouldn’t let her walk away.
Chapter 7
Cash had brought sandwiches and chips for lunch, but none of them had much of an appetite. His news had put a damper on the day, despite the brilliant sunshine and cool, dry weather. Later, he kept busy to stave off the blues—he made the rounds at his trucks, handled some banking, and shopped for supplies.
His heart broke for Rachel. It was true they were at odds in their goals, but somehow, that no longer mattered. He would find a way to soothe her when her beloved tree was destroyed. He wasn’t sure how, but he would make it up to her.
As he approached the park to check on her, he noticed an empty lot on the corner adjacent to the park. A lone figure stood among the overgrowth of bushes, next to a sign that read, “For Sale By Owner.” Cash made a U-turn and headed for the lot.
Either he was a fool or a genius. Only time would tell.
A week had gone by since Bella had first tied the ropes, binding Rachel to the Love or Money Tree. She had come to the park on this Tuesday morning, not to be bound but to say goodbye. A surveyor and some men from the construction company had been to the park the day before, preparing to begin clearing this section of the park to make way for a bigger parking lot.
Paving paradise to make room for business. How cliché.
A crowd had gathered, alerted by Bella’s social media posts that a ceremony would be held for Rachel to give up her campaign to save the tree. Bella, Trista, and Luke stood by while Rachel walked to the tree.
A hush fell on the small group when she literally hugged the trunk, laying her cheek against the bark—bark that was now multicolored with symbols—evidence of wishes for true love, money, and whatever else people had hope of obtaining.
Rachel’s pain was lessened by the knowledge she had touched some hearts, had given people a reason to believe in the power of desire.
Speaking of desire, the only light in her life now was Cash, and he had yet to appear. He had seen her every day, but she sensed he was holding back. She’d asked repeatedly, but he’d assured her everything was fine. Once this ordeal was over, they would have a serious talk about their relationship. It was too precious to mess up, and they were going to make it work this time.
She addressed the crowd as she had rehearsed.
“Thank you all for coming and for your support throughout my vigil. I am saddened to say goodbye to my family’s beloved tree. But I’ve learned one thing since I started this—maybe you can’t fight city hall, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. Don’t give up fighting for what you know is right, because sometimes, you will win.”
A lone tear slipped from her eye, and she brushed it away. The crowd clapped and whistled, gathering around her. At least she had given it her all, and for that she was proud.
“Do not disperse. We have an announcement.”
The loud voice had boomed over the din, and all eyes turned toward the parking lot. There, Rachel saw Cash and two men walking their way. One of them she didn’t recognize, but the elderly man was the dog walker she had seen every day since her campaign began.
The smile on Cash’s face caused a tingle up her spine. Did he have good news?
When he reached her, he hugged her briefly, leaving his arm about her shoulder. The unknown man introduced himself to the crowd.
“My name is Tarkington Pritchett, and I represent the Kennesaw’s Planning and Zoning Commission. With me are Cash Bradford, and Barton Billings, a local resident. I am pleased to announce these two have developed a plan that will make the destruction of green space and trees in the park unnecessary.”
There was a gasp and discussion among the group assembled, but Rachel stood silent, praying. Had Cash really found a solution?
Mr. Pritchett gestured for the older man to speak. Billings addressed the crowd, still wearing his rumpled clothes and old ball cap, which he removed to reveal a shock of white hair.
“Mr. Bradford here approached me last week just as I put my vacant lot up for sale. He suggested it might be worth something to the county as an annex to the park. What he said made sense, but that wasn’t what finalized my decision.�
� He paused, then pointed at Rachel. “This young lady, she’s the one who convinced me. I lost my wife recently. We’d been married over fifty-two years. We walked in this park often and loved it. Our dog, Stella, loves it, too.”
Several words of appreciation and sympathy were murmured, but the man continued. “I’m selling everything I own and moving to Florida to be near my daughter. That vacant lot will do more for the community by being donated to this park, so folks like all of you can continue to enjoy it. And I have no doubt Rachel will find everything her heart desires.”
The tears flowed, and she didn’t try to stop them. She had already found what her heart desired, and he was smiling down at her with love in his eyes. Cash had gone above and beyond for her, and it meant more than she could ever express.
Epilogue
Six months later
Rachel hurried from the parking lot, across the street, and to the park. Cash’s new food truck, his third, was having a grand opening today, and she had promised to help out. She had spread the word through her blog and on social media, and Cash had reported a record crowd when they opened that morning.
Bella had commented recently that Rachel was now “living her best life.” Before saving the Love or Money Tree, she had been aimless, dissatisfied. Now she had a purpose. Using her influence and her voice not only to bring attention to her causes, but to tell the world that her family ran the finest gift shop in Kennesaw, and her boyfriend’s trucks served the best food anywhere. It was a win-win, and the people had responded with vigor.
As she reached the new truck, which offered up comfort foods with a twist, she was startled to see her parents and Bella there. They must have closed the gift shop in order to attend.
“What’s going on? I thought you guys were busy.”
Bella smiled, looking like a modern-day Mona Lisa. Something was up.
“We didn’t want to miss the big event.”
“That’s great, but it’s his third truck. No big deal.”
Just then, Cash climbed down from the truck, and the crowd milling around stepped back. His grin was positively wicked, and she wondered what he was about to do.
When Cash got down on one knee in front of her, she knew. The air left her lungs, and she swallowed, hard.
“Rachel Maria Diaz, will you marry me?”
She wanted to clock him for embarrassing her in front of her family and strangers, but she was too overjoyed.
“Yes, Cashiel Derek Bradford. I will marry you.”
He slipped a dainty platinum ring on her finger, the diamonds sparkling in the sun. They kissed, and the crowd cheered.
When they stepped back to face everyone, she knew she had been right. Hope and dreams were powerful, and fighting for hers had been so worth it.
About Renee Regent
A true believer in the power of love, Renee writes stories of mismatched people who beat the odds to be together. Whether fighting the supernatural or their own inner demons, her characters will always find their way to a happy ending.
Renee lives in Atlanta with her husband, three cats and four turtles. When not working or writing, she can be found sitting on her deck enjoying nature. Wine may or may not be involved….
Check out Renee’s website.
Also By Renee Regent
Buy Renee’s Books
The Lover Grows Series
(Contemporary Romance):
Not So Broken, Book 1
Not So Wrong, Book 2
Not So Far, Book 3 (Releasing Soon)
* * *
The Higher Elevation Series (Paranormal):
Unexplained, Book 1
Untouched, Book 2
Undeniable, Book 3
Running In Snow, A Holiday Novella
Redemption by Savannah Kade
Chapter 1
Chloe Bell sat bolt upright in the motel bed, tossing her covers off even as she gasped for air. She would have screamed if she'd had the breath to do it.
Her brain raced, suddenly wide awake. The adrenaline taking over her system wasn't even her own—it was his. She'd been there, she'd seen him, and she’d felt his pain. She’d caught glimpses of the man though she wanted to scream at the boy, “Look up! Show me his face!”
But she couldn’t. The boy didn’t know she was there, didn’t know she could see through his eyes. Wasn’t that the way it always was?
Most of the time she only got useless information. Small things that meant Chloe got to see but couldn’t help. It didn’t stop the things she saw in her dreams. Tonight was one of the nights she wished she could put a stop to it.
Two nights ago, she’d seen the same boy—five years old at the most. Chloe had followed his abduction, trying not to scream in frustration as there was nothing she could do. She’d learned to observe everything and memorize it.
Now, she cataloged what she could from memory as she peeled off her nightshirt and quickly changed. Stuffing her feet down into boots that were inappropriate for the warming summer nights, she headed out the door, keys in hand. She already knew where the Redemption Police Station was, and she aimed her car that direction.
It was 3 a.m. and this was not the plan. She'd done this kind of thing before, but in a sane, orderly fashion. It was always difficult convincing the police to start looking for a missing kid.
“Can I help you?” The officer at the front desk looked up, unalarmed by the fact that Chloe was storming into the station in the middle of the night. Officer Balero, by her nametag, had soft brown eyes that had seen too much but still found the strength to be kind. Clearly, she’d dealt with 3 a.m. before.
“I need to speak to the detective in charge of missing persons.” The adrenaline still zinged through her system, and Chloe fought to slow her breaths.
“You have a missing person to report? We have a form for that. Let me get it for you.” She turned away, but Chloe stopped her.
“No. I have information about a missing person.”
“What's the person's name?”
Shit. “I don't know.” But she gave what information she did have. “It's a boy. About five years old. Blond hair, blue eyes. I'm not certain he's from around here.”
Now, the officer lost her cool, calm demeanor. Despite the perfectly pressed uniform and the badge, she was starting to eye Chloe sideways. “So you have information about a missing person whose name you don't know… who's not here? Then where is he?”
Chloe tried again. “He is here now. He's not from here. He's been brought here to Redemption. Kidnapped.”
“Oh.” The officer seemed to catch on, but then her words showed that she didn't. “You have information about the kidnapper?”
Not what Chloe really had, but she gave what she knew. “Male, average height, brown hair, brown eyes.”
There was a pause. “Name?”
“Unknown.” Chloe sighed. This wasn’t going well.
“Do you know where he lives?” To her credit, the officer was trying hard to make something normal out of Chloe’s very abnormal requests.
“No. I need to see a detective,” Chloe pushed. The sooner she got to the person she needed to, the sooner she could begin convincing that person that her information was legitimate and accurate. That person was not at the intake desk. She went five more rounds before—finally!—the officer sat back into her swivel chair, picked up the phone and said, “Let me get you Detective Tavares.”
Chloe nodded as though “Detective Tavares” meant something to her. All it meant was a real detective—someone who would actually investigate the boy’s disappearance.
Five minutes later, she was ushered to a desk in the bullpen. She sat in a straight chair, facing a dark-haired, dark-eyed man with a jaw that belonged on a Calvin Klein model. The tight clench of that same jaw told her he did not believe a single word she was saying. He seemed to understand that Chloe had been handed off to him.
“How exactly is it that you came by this information?”
Lord, she thought, an
d started all over again. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I dreamed it. I see it sometimes when I close my eyes. He's here.”
Detective Orlando Tavares took his own deep breath to steady himself. He had heard about this, but never had it happen to him before. He’d landed a genuine psychic.
Not an actual psychic, he knew. Those didn’t exist. But this woman sure seemed to believe she was one.
She had reddish-blonde curls coming out from under a knit cap that she’d clearly pulled on in a rush. Dark lashes framed wide, pale-green eyes. Her face was bare and her expression sincere. Maybe that was just because it was 3 a.m., and because everything else about her looked like your average college girl.
Lando decided to start with the basics. If he made her mad first, she likely wouldn't give them the information his captain would demand. “Name?”
“I don't know the boy's name or the kidnapper’s name,” she repeated, clearly fighting to stay calm.
“I’m sorry, I meant your name.”
“Chloe Bell.”
“Date of birth?” Good, she was answering everything he needed to shove her out the door.
She rattled it off, proving she was a good ten years older than he would have guessed. Interesting. “Where are you from?”
“Breathless, Georgia.”
“And you're in Nebraska because…?”
Taking a deep breath, she looked him square in the eyes. She might be the worst kind of crazy: the kind that seemed perfectly normal, except for the words coming out of her mouth. “Three nights ago, I dreamed of this boy being put into the back of a red sedan—dark red. I don't know the make, but I've been looking it up. I think it's a foreign made car, a Toyota or a Honda.”
Lando took copious notes and nodded along as she talked. Did she know that description fit a very large number of vehicles? Maybe. He motioned for her to keep going. Turning someone away—someone who was reporting a crime—required documentation. He wondered if he had enough information to 6404 her and get her committed.
