EVE
Iarrive at the town council meeting early with my signed and dated historical paperwork filled out for review during the closed session.
I don’t usually come to these smaller meetings since there are generally only a handful of small issues to tackle before the town council retreats into their back room to approve contracts and presumably practice witchcraft.
But since I actually have a stake in today’s meeting—the historical designation of my water wheel—I come with a bag full of snacks, prepared to wait it out so I know now, rather than in two weeks when Margie’s notes will finally be uploaded, whether my water wheel was successfully approved.
I meander through the front doors of the municipal building and spot Margie up front, her glasses low on her nose as she reads through a document on the table in front of her. Her deep red hair is piled in a frizzy bun on top of her head, two little tendrils hanging in front of her face on either side. She glances up at me when she hears footsteps,a smile coming to her face when she sees the papers in my hands.
But before I can march my application over to her, I’m intercepted.
“Hey,” Ryder says, that flannel snug over his broad shoulders. He has a brown paper bag in one hand.
I stop in my tracks. “Hi.”
We parted as apprehensive friends the other night, but I haven’t seen him since.
And his presence here, at a mostly closed town council meeting, has me wondering whether he got wind that I was filing for historical status tonight.
He must see the question in my face, because he quickly explains, “I wanted to submit that draft of the building plans to the town council. Make sure everyone is on the same page. It’s not an official document or anything, but you seemed okay with it, and I’m okay with it. Just want to get the town council on board too. If I get some semblance of a blessing from them, I can charge full speed ahead with this concept.”
“Ah,” I say. “Well, good luck.”
“Thanks.” He gestures to the documents in my hands. “Historical?”
I let out a long sigh. “Yes.”
“Congratulations.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“I’m sorry for your loss?”
I shrug. “Somewhere in between the two. I’m glad the water wheel will be recognized as the historic landmark it is. It really should be. But I’m apprehensive about the cost of maintenance. It’s been a tank these past hundred or so years—the only time it’s ever really had trouble was during a bad storm when I was inhigh school and a log got stuck in the mechanism—so I’m just nervous that the second I file this paperwork, it’s going to break in some way and I’m going to end up begging on the streets just to get it fixed. Or worse, the mechanism itself will break and it’ll lose all functionality but because it looks aesthetically the same as it did, I’m going to end up going through five hundred different approvals for it, you know? Most of the concern with historic buildings in this town is around the facade. But the water wheel is functionalandaesthetic, you know?”
I only realize I’m rambling when I glance behind Ryder and see Margie, eyebrows raised, staring at me.
“Am I wrong?” I ask her.
“Honey, is the function of that water wheel really your biggest concern right now?” She makes no effort to hide the way her eyes travel up and down Ryder’s body. “Really?”
He struggles to hide his snickering as he elbows me gently. “Yeah, Eve, really?”
I roll my eyes at him. “You’re enjoying this too much. And Margie, don’t you have a closed session to get to?”
She leans back in her chair. “I do, Evie. And it’s going to take a while, so why don’t the two of you head down the street and grab some dinner while we discuss?”
“Oh, aren’t notes posted online after the meetings?” Ryder asks.
I snort. Margie raises one eyebrow.
“Yes, Ryder. Notes are posted after the meetings,” Margie says.
“Usually it takes about two weeks,” I tell him.
“Might take three or four, this time,” Margie says with a sly smile.
“Margie,” I warn.
