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Charlie narrowed her eyes, taking a step closer in those killer heels of hers. The sound of her footsteps echoed in the small room.
She placed her portfolio down and grabbed a tissue from the box in the middle of the table to wipe the ink on her hands. “Now that we’re all acquainted, shall we get down to the matter at hand? That is unless you still want to pause for a coffee break, in which case, you can fetch some for yourself down the hall.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I spied Minnie biting back a bemused grin. It wasn’t the first time I’d faced a hostile real estate development tribunal. And I had the feeling it wouldn’t be my last in New Elwood. My gaze switched between the two women glaring at me. I may have been playing on Charlie’s home turf, but she didn’t know who she was up against.
Sebastian Anderson never crumbled. Unlike her flooring.
“Let’s get this over with.” The sooner we sat down and went head-to-head, the sooner I could wipe that condescending look off her pretty face.
The arch of Charlie’s eyebrow rose on her forehead. “Then let the games begin.”
I grinned inwardly. Something told me by the dark look in her eyes and clenched jaw that she wasn’t going to play nice. Good. A worthy adversary to make it interesting. So far, Charlie had been the only interesting thing in New Elwood. Not that that was saying much.
Why had my family invested so much into this small southern town? And to think I was born here. Spent the first eleven years of my childhood here. Even back then, everything from the houses and schools to the shops and restaurants were dated. And let me tell you, after thirty years, it had not aged well, and was in desperate need of a facelift.
Take the old courthouse conference room we stood in. The once glossy mahogany paneled walls had dulled to a dungeon hue, and displayed paintings of dead presidents in lusterless gilded frames. The lead paint on the colonial-style window grilles had chipped away to nothing and condensation bubbled along the window panes. Above us were a half a dozen ceiling tiles stained with swirls of brown, spinning into a deep moldy black, which explained the inescapable dank odor lingering in the thick, sticky air. This place made my skin crawl. I’d rather bulldoze this building than step foot in it ever again.
The four of us sat down at the conference table with a history of nicks and scratches. Mayor Greene sat at the head while Minnie prepared the meeting’s minutes next to my neighbor, Charlie, who settled in directly across from me. This would be quick. This town couldn’t turn down the pot of gold I was proposing.
I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms. There was no way I was going to let ole splinter-ass get in the way of me and my profits. Surely she believed that because she was the town’s heritage preservation officer, she was somehow in charge of the final say. But Charlie Washington Reeves, Esq. was about to watch the antique table turn in my favor.
She spoke first. “Well, I’ve done a thorough review of your proposal to overhaul our beloved Monticello Theater and turn it into a generic hotel?—”
“Pardon my interruption, but beloved theater?” I knew where this was going. Nowhere good. I had to put a stop to it. “I’ve reviewed the accounts, and the theater hasn’t turned a profit in two years. Before that, the numbers were dismal. With the advent of online streaming services, it doesn’t appear the public is very interested in frequenting a matinee at a moldy old theater. So I’m not sure beloved is accurate. It’s quaint, I’ll give you that, but it’s falling apart. And frankly, with ninety-year-old wiring, it’s a death trap. The theater is adding absolutely no value to the town at large. In fact, it’s detracting from it.”
Even the thought of being caught in that place with a single stray spark made dread walk down my spine. I’d already cheated death in another tinderbox in this town at the tender age of eleven; I wasn’t going to tempt fate again.
And if I could’ve dealt with my grandmother’s bequeathment without setting foot in this old town at all, that’s what I would’ve done. But as I faced off against the woman who’d just become Enemy Number One, I was glad I could take her down in person.
Charlie’s chest rose with a deep breath through her flared nostrils. She interlaced her fingers and settled them on the table. “Mr. Anderson, unlike you, the good public servants of New Elwood value its history. The Monticello is an important part of that. And as the town’s trusted heritage preservation officer, it’s my job to protect our history, not tear it down. Do you follow my lead?”
No way I was following her lead.
“You know, Ms. Reeves, it’s admirable how much you care about this town. But I think you’re under the impression I’m the big, bad developer who doesn’t. I’m only proposing to build this town up. Build the future.” I mirrored her position and looked her square in the eye. The humid air grew even damper. Thicker. “What Main Street needs is a massive makeover to attract the wine-guzzling tourists who will sustain this town. Which, by the way, has been in dire straits since the old cigarette factory moved overseas. The new hotel will be the start of a prosperous future for everyone. After all, it’s New Elwood, not Old Elwood.”
Her knuckles turned white as she tightened her fingers. The red stain on her silky blouse looked like blood spatter, like she was ready to fight me to the death over this. That made two of us.
The only sound was the click-clacking of Minnie’s diligent account. Let the record show that Charlie Washington Reeves would leave here with her tail tucked between her gorgeous legs.
“I understand this isn’t something you’re used to hearing, Mr. Anderson, but New Elwood isn’t interested in building a future with you at the cost of our heritage.”
“Your heritage?” I asked, ready to stake my claim. “What about my heritage?”
“What about it?” she demanded with clenched teeth.
“Now, Charlie, wait just a minute. Let’s not be so quick to throw out Sebastian’s proposal with the bathwater.” The mayor chimed in, and I flicked my brow at the mention of bathwater. The flash in Charlie’s eyes told me she knew exactly where my mind had traveled.
For a moment, I lost focus and let my gaze trail from her scarlet red lips to her delicate, porcelain neck. The ink stains had faded but a heated blush seemed to creep up her chest. My palm tingled, and I remembered the feel of her soft ass beneath it. Then the mayor’s booming voice brought me back as he continued, “He has a right to have a say in what happens to the theater.”
“What right? He’s just another city big-wig trying to destroy our home! Or have you forgotten what happened with Theo Sinclair?”
I frowned at the mention of the familiar name, but the mayor went on: “That was different. Mr. Anderson is also a Radcliffe. As in Lydia Radcliffe’s grandson.”
Minnie’s keyboard taps stopped dead. “Wait. The Lydia Radcliffe who owns the theater?”
“The one and only, along with the beautiful Radcliffe House Apartments,” I said and watched Charlie gulp something back. Pride, perhaps?
“She owns some of the best real estate in town. Well, did… Rest her soul,” Mayor Greene said.
