“You really should,” Colonel says warmly. “We need you.”
I meet Hunter’s eyes, and I would swear there’s a twinkle there, a yearning. He nods encouragingly.
And that’s what pushes me over the edge.
“I guess I’m going to give it a try,” I finally say.
The whole room erupts in applause. I haven’t felt this universally liked since I won the county spelling bee in second grade with the wordahoy.
“That’s great news, Rhea. We’re all so glad.” At Nick’s raised voice, the room calms down a bit. “So will you keep running the video emporium or try something different?”
I take a deep breath.
Saying it out loud makes it real.
Once it’s out there in public, not just an idea but a declaration, this decision will be heavy, demanding…something Ihaveto do. Something that can actually fail.
But, then again, can I really fail worse than a video store?
“I’d like to keep the videos but shift the main business over to books with room for some gifts and artwork. A bookstore.”
This statement is met with whispers and exclamations, all of which seem positive. Only Joyce and Hunter Blakely don’t meet this news with joy. Joyce is still squinting at me, frowning, and Hunter’s look is no longer flirty. I told him I’m renting Maggie’s apartment, and now that he’s made the connection between me and the video store, he knows something is fishy. I feel a brief press of guilt, but it’s not like I’ve ever straight-up denied I was Maggie’s kin. Nick gleefully bangs his gavel to bring everyone back to order, and I decide it’s in my best interest to avoid looking at either Blakely just now.
“That’s great,” Nick assures me. “A bookstore would be a very valuable addition to our downtown. And I know our residents will be glad to still have the option to rent videos. And buy peanuts, I hope?”
“We need those peanuts!” cries a silver-haired lady in a caftan and tons of beaded necklaces. She sounds like I just threatened to abolish peanuts altogether, and I’m glad she won’t be an enemy.
“A bookstore is just the thing,” Colonel Gooch agrees. “More culture always brings folks downtown.” He taps his chin. “And possibly some event space? I’d love to see a literary festival one day.”
“Sure,” I allow, although suddenly it sounds like a lot more work.
“And you’re going to need a builder to help with all that,” Nathan says with a smug little grin. “Due to the fragile and historical nature of our downtown architecture, you’ll have to use our only approved contractor.”
This is news to me. “Okay…”
“Do you have availability soon, Hunter?”
I feel like I’ve fallen directly into Nick and Nathan’s dastardly meet-cute plan.
“Of course,” Hunter says.
But he’s wary, not warm at all, with a sort of professional detachment.
Like he knows we’re all hiding something from him, and he knows he’s not going to like it.
“Even though he’s our only contractor, you can trust Hunter and his work,” Nick assures me, as if he understands that Nathan’s winking and grinning are not making me any more comfortable with the situation. “He’s a genius and his prices are more than fair.”
There are mumbles of “It’s true” and “Yep” and “He saved us a thousand dollars.”
Again, everyone looks at me expectantly. I begin to realize that along with the idea of being part of a community comes the part where you have to answer back.
“That sounds great,” is basically my only choice.
“He’ll stop by tomorrow to talk about what you need. Right?” Nathan prompts.
Hunter gives me a tight smile. “Of course. I’m available after lunch, if that works?”
“Sure. I’ll be there.”
