Page 110 of Holding Ground

My heart rate climbs, and my breaths become shallow.

“Emelia moved into my bunkie, and I wanted her gone. She sat across from me and ate dinner, and I wanted her gone. She sat on the end of my dock, and I wanted her gone.”

The only sound in the room is the buzzing of the fluorescent lights above us.

“She’s not the one who did this to us. The developer is. They used her the same way they were trying to use us—as a means to an end. But she figured it out and risked everything to be here, telling you about it so that the council can vote accordingly next week. When, if she wanted, she could’ve gotten in her car and driven back to Boston after this was all said and done and never thought about Echo Lake again.”

“How do you know that?” Greta asks. She doesn’t sound as certain anymore.

Elliott turns and meets my gaze. “Because I know her.” He says it the way he says most things—plain and direct. “And because she’s here.”

And it’s in that nod that I know he understands. Understands that I needed to do this on my own and see where he landed after I broke the news.

I can barely breathe, and my eyes burn as I try not to let the tears gather.

Jimmy stands slowly. “I’ve been sitting outside the Bait & Tackle for damn near twenty-five years now. Watched a lot of people come and go. Some of them want something from us, some want something for us. Emelia’s the second kind.”

Sam stands up beside him and nods once, but enough for everyone to know that he’s signing off on what Jimmy just said.

Clyde is already halfway out of his chair when he speaks. “Now, I’ve known a few developers in my day, but when I was running the marina⁠—”

“Clyde,” Jimmy says.

Clyde sits down, but he points at me first. “I’m with her. For the record.”

Then Roy stands, wearing a Taylor Swift T-shirt, and that makes the lump forming in my throat grow to painful levels. “I talked to Emelia before she even came to town, back when I rented her the bunkie, and I knew she was good people then. Since Emelia came to town, she’s sat across from me and played poker with me, she’s spent time with my grandniece, and she’s brought something back to my nephew’s life that was missing for a long time.” He pauses, his eyes moving to Elliott. “I’m not an easy man to fool, and neither is Elliott. If she says she didn’t know, she didn’t know.”

Hollis doesn’t bother standing, instead, speaking from his seat. “She ruined her career in order to stand in this room tonight and tell the truth. Why would she do that other than wanting to protect this town and do what’s right?”

The question lingers, but no one answers it.

Ansel stands, grinning at me over the heads of everyone else. “She’s one of us, whether she knows it yet or not.”

My vision blurs, and I have to grip the podium even harder.

Dottie stands to address the crowd. “Greta, sweetheart, you got your work done a couple of months ago and came back looking fantastic, though a few cup sizes larger, and no one said anything to you. We were all just happy for you. Let’s extend the same grace to the woman who just blew up her whole life to protect ours.”

Greta opens her mouth, closes it, then sits down.

Deacon stands and crosses his big arms. “I’ve named something after everyone in this town who matters. She’s had a pastry in the case for three weeks, so that should tell you how I feel about her.”

Old man Gilroy sets his hands on his hips and sighs before meeting my eyes. “Guess I was wrong. Suppose I owe you an apology.”

“You were scared. I can understand that.”

I look toward Elliott. He’s still watching me in that steady, intense way of his. I gather my folder, full of evidence I apparently didn’t need, step away from the podium, and make my way toward the door.

Dottie is waiting there when I reach it. “Mascara’s holding up. Impressive.”

I laugh, but it comes out broken.

“Come by the café tomorrow. Pancakes. On me. You look like you’ve lost ten pounds from stress.”

“I could always use pancakes.” I start to walk through the door, then pause. “Why did you leave Vegas again?” Maybe now she’ll tell me the truth.

“Tax reasons.”

I guess not. I give her a watery smile, then walk out the door. The air is cold, and the sky is black, only a few stars shining through the gaps in the clouds.