"I think it's bad form." Megan crossed her arms.
I tried to catch Beck's eye. When he finally looked my way, he flinched and turned back to the front. My stomach dropped.
"Who's that?" I whispered to Megan, nodding toward the skinny man.
"Probably a lawyer."
The lawyer seemed to have a permanent smirk on his face. He kept leaning back to listen to someone behind him. I craned my neck to see who it was: Rob Cooper.
Something wasn't right.
Mayor Mavis stepped to the podium and tapped the microphone. "Alright, everyone. Let's get started."
The room went quiet. Mavis adjusted her glasses and shuffled her papers.
"Thank you all for coming. I know parking was a mess." A few people laughed. "We're here to discuss the proposal from King Development regarding our recreational facilities. I'll turn the floor over to their representatives."
I expected Beck to stand. He didn't.
The man with the thin hair rose instead, buttoning his jacket as he walked to the podium.
"Good evening. I'm Sidney Mouser, legal counsel for King Development Corporation. I'll be presenting the proposal."
I looked at Beck. The muscle in his jaw twitched. Before he could look away, I mouthed, "What the hell?"
He mouthed two words back: I'm sorry.
The projector hummed to life, filling the screen with a glossy rendering of a massive sports complex. "The King Sports and Recreation Center will be a world-class facility," Mouser began. He clicked through slides of economic projections and job numbers. "Construction will bring millions of dollars to your community."
I started to relax a little. This was the plan Beck had described.
Then Mouser got to the numbers.
"Ice time will be available at market rates of two hundred dollars per hour, with priority booking for our premium members..."
Two hundred dollars? Nobody in this town could afford that.
"...membership packages starting at five thousand dollars annually..."
I waited for the rest. The subsidized time, the figure skating program, the kids who couldn't afford gear. He kept clicking. Job numbers. Maintenance costs. A for-profit model. There was nothing about the community.
Then he got to the townhome slide. Cookie-cutter townhomes sat on the corner of Maple Street, the address of the Chance Rapids community rink.
I was on my feet. Megan tugged at my hand, but I swatted her away.
"What the hell is this?"
The room went silent. Mouser's smile stayed perfectly in place. "I'm sorry, and you are?"
"Clara Dalton." My voice quivered, but I continued. "Beckett Shepherd told this town that the community programs would be protected. Where is the clause for subsidized ice time?"
Mouser looked at me like I was a confused child. "Ms. Dalton, I appreciate your passion. However, Mr. Shepherd is not authorized to make commitments for King Development. Any informal assurances he gave were not sanctioned by the corporation."
I looked at Beck. His face was gray.
"Beck, tell them." My bottom lip trembled.
Beck stood and looked at the back of the room, past every single person there. "The clause regarding community programs has been removed from the proposal."
