The rep is quiet for a moment, looking through the papers, and my heart starts to sink. I can see on his face that none of this really matters to him—that it will be easier for him to go along with what’s already happening than try to fight for what’s right.
Maybe McKay has even bribed him, like Carp told me McKay had tried to bribe the council months ago, when they first set the scheme up.
“You might be a total hermit,” Carp had said, his brow wrinkling when I confessed the plan Amy came up with to get everyone on our side, “but we never would have voted for you to lose your place, man.”
Now, I can feel the energy in the town hall start to dip. Brendon looks at me from the front row of the folding chairs set up for the meeting, and I realize the expression on his face is one of pity.
Everyone else is seeing the same thing I’m seeing.
“All right,” I say, letting out a breath, knowing that I have, at least, done everything in my power to stop this. Carp has already told me that I’ll be able to appeal, to fight it at the state level, but it could take months or even years for that to go through.
And if McKay gets involved, there’s sure to be plenty more backhanded bribes and hushed business.
Carp shoots me a look. My land is as good as gone.
CHAPTER 30
AMY
“Just a second!” a female voice calls from behind the door.
I stand on Kirstin’s perfectly cute porch, staring at the little American flags she has set out for Memorial Day, the gnome wearing a flag-themed Speedo. It’s a perfect blend of cute and silly, which is exactly how I’d describe Kirstin’s personality.
When my sister throws open the door, I know I’m not who she expected to see.
“You should always look through the peephole,” I say lamely. “You never know who’s going to be at your door.”
“I heard the weird sound of your car,” she says, gesturing to the driveway, where my EV sits. “I knew it was you.”
We stand quietly for a moment, and I take a deep breath, looking up at the underside of her roof before returning my gaze to her and saying, “I’m sorry, Kir.”
She leans against the doorway, crossing her arms, staring at me. The big-sister sign forgo on.
“I got drinks with Mom,” I say, as the introduction to my explanation, and Kirstin’s face shifts slightly to worry.
“And?”
“Oh, you know,” I say with a laugh, “the usual. She wishes she never had kids. Only has time for her career. That sort of thing.”
Kirstin presses her lips together and tilts her head at me, and I try to force down the sudden sob in my throat, but it rises up all the same, making me choke up.
“Sorry,” I say, putting my face in my hands. Kirstin is there in a second, putting her arm around me. “I’m sorry,” I say again, voice muffled by my fingers. “I don’t know why this is so hard for me.”
“Honey,” Kirstin says, and the next thing I know, she’s ushering me in through the threshold, leading me to the table, her voice dropping. “Rae and Jordan are down for their naps.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“It’s not a big deal to cry, Amy, we all do it.”
“No, I’m sorry for what I said to you. I know how hard you work with the kids, and I never want to imply that you’re not doing as much as I am.”
I hiccup a sob, then clap my hand over my mouth, the hysterics working up my stomach again, bringing back the nausea that just hasn’t gone away.
“It’s okay,” Kirstin says, rubbing at my back. Then, dropping her voice, she says, “You know, if you were like Mom, and you just wanted to have this awesome career, I would support you inthat. But I always got the feeling that you wanted family life, too. And you felt like you had to push that part of yourself away.”
I nod, my hand still on my mouth, and when I realize I’m going to be sick, I push her away, standing and hurrying to the little bathroom in the hallway, the one furthest from the kids’ rooms.
When I emerge, Kirstin is standing there with a cool cloth, her eyes trained weirdly on me.
