What they mean is pavement and sameness and the end of everything we've built.
The town hallmeeting is scheduled for Thursday evening. Seven o'clock. I arrive at six-thirty to find the parking lot already half full.
Inside, folding chairs fill the community room in neat rows. A projector screen hangs at the front. A podium with a microphone. The setup is professional. Too professional for Pine Hollow's usual town meetings, which tend to involve Mayor Elsie shouting over the hum of the ancient sound system.
A man in a charcoal suit stands near the podium, shaking hands. Tall, mid-forties, good haircut. The kind of polished that doesn't belong here.
The developer.
I take a seat in the third row. Pull out my notebook. Click my pen twice and set it ready on the page.
People file in. Farmer Hank. The Millers. Mayor Elsie looking grim. A handful of shop owners. Rogan slips in late and stands against the back wall, arms crossed, watching.
At seven sharp, the developer steps to the podium.
"Good evening, everyone. My name is Marcus Webb. I'm the regional director for Crestview Development Group."
His voice is smooth. Practiced. The kind of voice that sells things.
"Thank you for taking the time to hear our vision for Pine Hollow's future."
He clicks a remote. The projector flickers to life.
Images appear on the screen. Townhomes with front porches. A community center with floor-to-ceiling windows. Children playing on modern playground equipment. Smiling families carrying shopping bags down a tree-lined sidewalk.
"Pine Hollow is a special place," Marcus says. "A town with deep roots and strong values. But like many rural communities, you're facing challenges. Economic pressure. Declining population. Aging infrastructure."
He pauses. Lets the words settle.
"Crestview Development specializes in thoughtful, community-centered growth. We don't come in and bulldoze. We partner. We listen. We build projects that honor the character of a place while creating opportunity."
Another slide. A chart showing projected tax revenue increases. Job creation numbers. Infrastructure investment.
"Pine Hollow Commons will bring two hundred new residents to this town. That means customers for local businesses. Students for the school. Tax dollars for road repair and public services. It means growth that benefits everyone."
He clicks through more slides. Architectural renderings. Timeline projections. Financing structures.
It looks good. Too good. The numbers are persuasive, the images appealing. I can feel the room warming to him.
When he finishes, he opens the floor to questions.
A shop owner asks about construction timelines. A farmer asks about water rights. Marcus answers each question smoothly, confidently, with just enough detail to sound informed without committing to anything concrete.
I wait. Let the easy questions pass. Then I raise my hand.
Marcus nods at me. "Yes, ma'am?"
I stand. Notebook in hand.
"Ivy Hale. I run the community seed program."
"Ms. Hale. Thank you for being here."
"Your projections show significant infrastructure investment," I say. "But they don't account for agricultural impact. Three of the properties you're targeting produce food for the region. If those farms convert to residential, where does that production go?"
Marcus smiles. "That's an excellent question. The reality is that small-scale farming is economically challenging. Many of these landowners are struggling. Our offer provides them with financial security while opening opportunities for more efficient agricultural operations elsewhere."
"Efficient doesn't mean sustainable."
