“What is the TV doing on? Go brush your teeth. Now.”
Make his lunch. Grab his backpack. Then run back inside for the books that go in the backpack.
“Did you get your lunch? From the counter? Now why would I pick up your lunch for you when you have two eyes, two arms, two hands, two legs, and two feet?”
By the time he dropped him off at school, he was ready for a nap. But Caleb banked on Bentley getting used to the routine and executing things on his own.
Caleb cruised by One More Cup for a latte and egg frittata before heading home to wrap up the last of his work for Jenny Finch and then prep something for Simon and the town councilmeeting. He’d hacked together a rough budget last night while watching college basketball, but he needed to design a couple of examples.
In Seattle, Caleb worked on restoration projects whenever he could. He felt like he was saving history, saving the dreams of those who’d given blood, sweat, and tears to building the country.
In the afternoon, he picked up Bentley, ran to Biggs for a few groceries, then came home for an after-school snack and homework. Bentley talked nonstop from the moment he got in the truck—about his classes, roller-skating, Grandma’s chili, his latest level on Minecraft—until Caleb said, “Buddy, I’ve got to get some work done. Remember you’re going to Grandma and Grandpa’s tonight. I’ve got a meeting.”
By six o’clock, he was satisfied he had enough to pique town interest. Then he packed up his laptop for the presentation, walked with Bentley to the folks’ for dinner, and headed to city hall. He’d tried to entice Mom or Dad into going, but they refused.
“The members from the West End control everything. It’s heartbreaking.”
“Then come with me. Fight for our side.”
“They never listen,” Dad said.
Simon met Caleb in the foyer. It was a beautiful space with Italian marble floors, a staircase constructed with ash wood, and a chandelier of handblown glass. Caleb had written a paper on the interior for his senior high drafting class.
“Are you ready?” Simon ran a handkerchief over his forehead. “It’s like 1987 all over again. When I ran for mayor three years ago, I wanted to help the East End, unify us with the West, and end the competition, but the divide is wider than ever.”
“It’ll be all right. We’re just getting started.”
“I’ve roped you into my efforts. Now they’ll label you as my ally and their enemy.”
Someone called for Simon, so he excused himself. Caleb made his way into the meeting room, where a couple dozen citizens talked among themselves in groups of two and three. Emery sat alone in an aisle seat of the second row. Caleb slipped in next to her.
“Are you new here?” he said, extending his hand. “Caleb Ransom, architect, befuddled uncle, single.”
Emery grinned and shook his hand. “Emery Quinn, editor, befuddled sister, single.”
“Sister? Weren’t you an only child?”
“I was ... I am ... sort of, but not anymore. It’s complicated. Well, not complicated technically,” she said in a low tone. “It only feels complicated. Is there a way to make me stop sayingcomplicated?”
Up front, Simon called the meeting to order.
“Ah, saved by point of order.” Emery tapped on her phone to record the meeting, then opened her Notes app.
“Did you see the carnival is in town?” Caleb whispered.
“Hard to miss with all the lights and sounds.” A message pinged on Emery’s phone. She swiped it away, but not before Caleb sawQuinnFamas the heading.
After the Pledge of Allegiance and Pastor Troy’s opening prayer, Simon moved through old business before addressing new. Since all business these days seemed to revolve around the West End, there were no objections.
“Onto the matter of the old homes in the northwest corner of town,” Simon said. “I’ve asked Caleb Ransom—”
“Who’s Caleb Ransom?” Mac Diamond made a show of looking round the room.
“I’m Caleb Ransom.” He rose up, waved, and sat back down. “Architect. Just moved back to town. We’ve met before, Mac.”
“So what do you want him to do, Simon? Have we approved this?”
Simon already looked defeated. “I’ve hired him to work on a refurbishment budget for the Org. Homestead. Show a couple of designs that fit the era of the homes. They’d make great low-cost housing, which we need. I’ve also asked Caleb to work on a Main Street initiative.”
