“Not even as far as I can throw you,” Frank muttered under his breath.
Cassie hid a smile. Just a few short years ago, Frank would’ve been the last person to champion their bucolic way of life. An infamous recluse, he rarely left his house, let alone frequented the quaint mom-and-pop shops lining the four cobblestoned streets framing the town square. Now, despite his somewhat crusty and cantankerous exterior, he’d become a beloved member of the community. And although he was old enough to be her grandfather, he’d become the father figure she’d never had.
A sudden surge of emotion swelled in her chest at the thought. She’d never met the man who bore her DNA. She didn’t even know his name. Despite her many attempts to learn more about him, her mother had doggedly kept his identity a secret, for reasons she wouldn’t divulge. A microscopic seed of resentment burrowed in Cassie’s heart. What would she say to her own son or daughter one day when they asked about their family tree?
“The fact is,” Burns said in an authoritative tone, tearing Cassie from her melancholy musings, “the library can’t keep up with its lease payments, and I’ve been lenient for as long as I can. If it’s not this developer, it will be someone else. I, for one, want to see Poppy Creek grow and thrive, not shrivel into a ghost town like so many others before us.”
A somber hush settled over the room as his ominous words sank in, permeating the air with a thick haze of hopelessness.
There had to be something they could do. Cassie couldn’t bear the thought of Poppy Creek changing, possibly losing its very essence, purely for the sake of perceived progress. While big corporations could provide jobs and cheap goods, and they weren’t evil in and of themselves, there was something special about their way of life. Poppy Creek was a tiny pocket of tranquility in a tumultuous world, and now more than ever, she wanted it to stay that way.
As if driven by an internal force greater than herself, she rose from her chair. Her cheeks colored as everyone turned toward her, waiting for her to speak.
Mayor Burns glowered as if he could force her back into her seat with the harsh angle of his eyebrows, but her feet remained rooted to the floor.
“What if we use the festival as a fundraiser for the library?” Her voice shook with nerves, and she gathered a breath to steady it. “We could hold a silent auction, sell raffle tickets, and whatever else we can think of. If we raise enough money to pay off the debt and cover a rent increase, will you honor the library’s lease agreement?”
The mayor’s brown eyes muddied, and a muscle in his jaw flexed almost imperceptibly. Was he angry? She couldn’t tell for sure, but her heart sank.
The room rumbled in support of her proposition, and the mayor’s sharp, chiseled features melted into a smooth, syrupy smile.
“Of course. I only want what’s best for the town.”
His response was met with applause, which he accepted with exaggerated humility.
Cassie subconsciously placed a protective hand over her stomach.
Although she’d gotten the answer she wanted, something in the mayor’s gaze left her feeling oddly unsettled.
CHAPTER2
CASSIE
Cassie stared out the passenger window, barely registering the silvery, moonlit tree line as their faded red pickup rattled down the rugged two-lane road pitted with poorly filled potholes.
“Hey,” Luke said, breaking the silence. “You made the right decision.”
She shifted in her seat to face him, suppressing the urge to fling her arms around his neck in a grateful embrace. How did he know her so well? “Are you sure? I keep wondering if I should’ve accepted Landon’s offer.” Landon Morris, a billionaire entrepreneur and newcomer to Poppy Creek, had approached her privately after the meeting and proposed buying the library from Burns and donating it back to the town. On the surface, it seemed like a simple solution to their problem, but she’d ultimately advised Landon against making the generous offer.
“You made the right call,” Luke assured her. “Having Landon whip out his checkbook every time the town has a financial need sets an unhealthy precedent for everyone involved, but especially Landon. It would change the dynamic, turning him into an ATM, and people would stop viewing him as an equal member of the community. The issue concerns all of us, and it’s important we take ownership and solve it together.”
Cassie couldn’t help but smile. That was exactly how she felt about the situation, and hearing Luke voice her thoughts helped ease some of her doubts. “How do you always know the right thing to say?”
“I think it has something to do with the mind meld that happened when we got married. The one that lets us finish each other’s sentences and read each other’s thoughts.” He flashed her a grin—the one that usually made her stomach flutter—but this time, her stomach lurched at the terrifying prospect. What if he reallycouldread her thoughts? Would he think less of her?
“Besides,” he added as if they’d never changed topics, “I have no doubt we’ll be able to raise enough money. It’s just unfortunate we even need to. I still can’t believe Burns wants to sell the library to a developer.” He briefly dimmed his headlights for a passing car then flicked them back to brights, illuminating the shadowy silhouette of the surrounding pine trees.
“To be honest,” Cassie admitted, “I’m not surprised. I don’t know him well, so maybe this is uncharitable, but something’s always seemed a bit off about him.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. He’s never been the town’s most popular mayor.”
“How does he keep getting reelected?”
“Lack of competition, I guess.” Luke shrugged. “There’s some old bylaw that stipulates the mayor has to be from one of the founding families. Billy and Gina, the last of the Hasketts, didn’t have any children. Billy’s in his late nineties now—and thinks wearing pants is optional—so that rules them out. The Cunninghams and the Burnses came to blows over something several years ago. No one knows for sure what happened. Frida Connelly swears they argued over which color to paint the gazebo in the town square, but that seems unlikely. At any rate, now the Cunninghams either raise armadillos in Oxnard or oxen in Amarillo. I can never remember which. Rod and Anne Burns only had one son, Bryce. So, I guess you could say he’s our mayor by default.”
“That’s kind of sad. Can’t the bylaw be changed?”
“Probably. Bryce took over after his dad passed away, and as far as I know, no one ever questioned it.”
