My grandmother broke her hip a few months ago, and though we’ve been managing with a bus service that I’ve generously been floating for the entire senior community that lives with her, it would be ideal if we could finish the damn road work so she can walk to the park that’s a tenth ofa mile from her apartment. Shelikeswalking, but when she’s home, she can only do loops around a tiny courtyard. And sheneedsto walk to build up her strength again.
But her goddamn sidewalk has been blocked for the better part of a year, with no active work being done.
And despite sitting through five town council meetings at this point, I still have no idea why.
So rather than getting answers, I asked for solutions.What could make this go faster? Who can I talk to? How can I help?
And apparently the answer all along was that Mayor Reed—the prickly dick—was just waiting for someone to come along andaskbecause as soon as the question left my mouth, a grin took over that smarmy face of his.
“Well, Mr. Blackwell. Glad you decided to contribute to our community for once,” he said, turning his attention to me.
And in that moment, I knew I was fucked.
We only knew each other in passing as I was growing up—my best friend Aiden dated his daughter and he wasnotpleased—but my proximity to their tortured relationship landed me solidly on Mayor Reed’s shit list.
I spent my childhood in this town. My teen years running away from this town. The period of time after my mom left holding onto all the wrong pieces of this town. And the years after my dad’s death cautiously dipping my toes back in.
And now, apparently, an entire foot.
Mayor Reed wants a new community. Something charming but affordable that fits with the town’s landscape.
So, I bought a plot of land.
A plot of land that just happens to butt right up against Evelyn Harper’s sunflower farm.
And if this morning is any indication of how the rest of this project is going to go, I’m probably, most likely,extrafucked.
Because if I want the road outside my grandmother’s apartment opened again, I have to officially start work on this project.
And if I want to start on this project, I need Evelyn Harper to agree to an easement.
“I’m going to charm her or die trying,” I tell Steve, and he only shakes his head, chuckling as he takes a few careful steps forward for his next measurement.
“Well, she’s certainly charmed me,” he says.
I give him a look, crossing my arms over my chest. “She’s charmed you?”
He shrugs. “What? You have eyes, don’t you? She’s cute. Little bit of attitude like that keeps things interesting. You could do well with somebody like her.”
“Steve,” I say, gesturing to the bungalow she disappeared into. “I have enough people in my life who would like to see me crash and burn. I don’t need another one.”
He stands up straight, pocketing his notebook and stepping out of the stream. “She’s just protecting what she loves,” he says, brushing my statement off. “That’s a great person to have in your life, you know.”
“I’m trying to have her in my life as briefly as possible.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Well, ‘brief’ is probably going to be at least two years.”
My nostrils flare. “It’s going to be a long two years.”
He claps me on the shoulder. “Well, pucker up, Princess. Looks like you’re going to be kissing a hell of a lot of sunflower ass.”
When we finishup at the stream, I take one last look at the bungalow Evelyn disappeared into. It’s a beachy pink color with white trim, and the whole thing is covered in painted sunflowers.
As if there aren’t enough around here to begin with.
Steve waves over his shoulder as he heads back down the road to the small, unkempt dirt parking lot where his muddy work truck is parked next to my… also now very muddy BMW.
I know I should march up to her door, knock, and make another attempt to forge a healthy working relationship with her.
