Page 68 of Sugar & Shadows

His response was surprising. I expected him to argue with her. To try to win the moment. But he just absorbed her criticism and pivoted.

Standing, I nodded at Harper, signaling to her that I was ready for our first slide. Once I’d greeted the crowd, I cleared my throat. “My team and I have outlined several initiatives that will help us rebuild the local tourism industry, increase small business revenue, and create year-round economic opportunity.”

Half turning, I pointed at the slide on screen.

“Our short-term plans should initiate regrowth. The medium-term plans are the projects we’ll tackle within the next six months. And then the long-term initiative. Obviously, that will take longer, but it will build toward a more sustainable economic future for everyone.”

A man in his fifties near the back raised his hand. “What’s a maple cam?” he asked, pointing to the top of the slide.

“Glad you asked.” I gave him a wide smile. “It’s the cornerstone of our social media campaign and short-term economic push. We’re currently live streaming from three farms.”

I turned my smile on Gabe. “And thanks to the tireless advocacy of our mayor, we’re expanding to six next week.”

The man blinked a few times, his lips curving down. “People are watching trees?”

I nodded at Harper, and as we planned, she approached.

“We got seventeen thousand views in the first twelve hours. We’re making the sap run an interactive digital experience.”

She beamed at me, the look sending an unfamiliar surge of maternal pride through my body.

“This slide,” she said, nodding at Nina, who’d taken over and was clicking through the presentation, “details our cross-platform engagement. Also, the Lawrence Farm, where we installed our first maple cam, has already received over a thousand email signups from consumers interested in purchasing syrup.”

A woman in the back gasped.

“Yes,” I said, tempering my enjoyment. “Our strategy centers the farmers, the process, and the history. The goal is direct sales for our farmers and merchants in the short term, and more curated on-site experiences for interested tourists long term.”

“We’re building momentum,” Harper explained. “Treating this like a massive event. People will have FOMO if they miss the first drops of sap.”

“It could be any day now,” a craggy old voice cut in.

“Exactly,” our resident techie said. “That’s what drives the engagement. And that’s just the live stream. The new Maplewood TikTok account I set up and filled with content about maple syrup and photos from old harvests has over thirty thousand followers.”

“Creating interest in the town is a net positive,” my mom said from her seat next to the other ladies who worked at the library. “We bring people here digitally first. Get them hooked. Then they will visit. Not just for a festival weekend, but all year long.”

Bitsy’s hands were fisted on the table and a vein in her forehead bulged like she was about to explode.

“That’s so nice, dear,” she said, her tone dripping in condescension. “But how could your little cameras replace the festival?”

Harper had frozen, her eyes wide with apprehension behind the lenses of her glasses.

I reached over and squeezed her arm, then focused on the old bag beside me. “I’m so glad you asked, Bitsy,” I said. “I’ll walk you through it.”

The slides were thorough, spelling out every detail. But I went through them slowly to ensure everyone could follow along.

Bitsy remained unsatisfied, her face sour and twisted.

“What if it doesn’t work?”

“Based on what Harper has shared, it is working,” I told her gently.

Jowls quivering with what looked like rage, she asked, “Who authorized this? You can’t just buy cameras using tax dollars.”

I rolled my shoulders. While the rest of the room seemed intrigued, my competence only seemed to make Bitsy a bit more unhinged.

“We haven’t done any of this without authorization from the mayor, and he’s been a key player, helping us get much of this off the ground,” I said. “The equipment was funded through the public relations budget, which, frankly, is ridiculously tiny. The rest was paid for privately.”

“But you can’t just put up cameras,” she argued.