“The bottom line is, if it’s bad for tourism, it’s bad for all of us.”
“Tourists who are able to bring more substantial money into the community won’t mind a tax,” Danielle said.
“And regular people will. They’ll go somewhere else. I’m aware you don’t care about that, that you like the idea of filtering out the people you don’t think have as much value or merit, by your standards. I’m not.”
“You have a conflict of interest.”
“Your time to speak has lapsed, Miss LeFevre,” Heather said.
“I think I should have time for a rebuttal,” Danielle said.
“We’ll move on,” Heather said. “The next question is about the historic-colors ordinance.”
The historic-colors ordinance meant that only certain flowers, certain types of plants, and certain paint colors could be used on homes in the town proper. Jessie had always thought it was stupid. And when it was her turn to speak, she said as much.
Her answer was clearly very much less popular than her first response had been.
She felt slightly stung and a little bit foolish. There were several questions like that. Issues that no one she had talked to had brought up, but that clearly mattered quite a bit to certain people in town.
Sometimes she was thrusting; other times she parried. Sometimes she was definitely on the winning end of an argument, and other times she missed a beat.
And when it came time to give their final statements, she was feeling a lot more uncertain than she’d expected to feel.
“The way I see it,” Danielle began, “we can continue to refine our town. We can continue to bring in the right kind of tourists, and we can continue to have the best and brightest of us representing the community, or we can descend into anarchy. I understand that noise ordinances and taxes on diners are not necessarily popular choices. But for the most part, a dining tax makes sense because it brings money in from outside our community, rather than putting an undue burden on citizens.
“Change is good. But with caution. And precision. That’s what I bring to the table. You know me. You know how I handle myself, and when it comes right down to it, my opponent is a wild card.” Danielle took a breath. “Thank you for your time.”
The word branded itself on Jessie’s spirit. A wild card. Yeah. She was. She sure as hell was a wild card.
“My opponent is right,” she said. “I am a wild card. And I don’t think our town needs to be more exclusive. If we’ve learned anything from our history it’s that when we exclude people, we lose real, valuable contributions to society, to our home. Theright kind of touristimplies there’s a wrong kind. Well, I’m sure to Ms. LeFevre half of us here would be the wrong kind. I welcome any tourist who wants to come and enjoy this place, not just somebody who wants to go on a wine trail. I welcome people who want to come and enjoy the Wild West Show. Eat a fine dinner or go to a dive bar. People who want to go to concerts in the park, or hike in the mountains,just enjoy the views. People who want to come to the lake and drink beer all day, and yes, people who want to go wine tasting. And just like there’s no right kind of tourist, there’s no right kind of citizen. This outlaws-and-lawman thing has gone on for so long, and it permeates everything we do, despite the brilliant book Austin Wilder wrote that told people we’re a lot more complicated than we ever really want to believe. We are. I know I am. I’d like to think you all are. Danielle is certainly a choice you can make. One you’ve made before. She feels safe, but if you really listen to what she says you’ll hear the hidden message in her words—she thinks she’s better than all of you, and she thinks she has the right to decide what andwho’sbest. I pledge to be a wild card. To listen. To do the unexpected. To make this town a place for everybody. Whether they’re visiting, or they live here. That’s what the outlaw ticket is all about. I’m free to be me. You’re free to be you. And we all live together. Work together. Enjoy this town, this life, together. There’s no need to regulate the joy to be found in this town. Thank you very much for your time.”
The applause she got was thunderous. And it wasn’t only because of her family.
In that moment she thought she might actually win. Lord. She might’ve actually done it. And it wasn’t by creating a spectacle. It was actually by being herself. Maybe she hadn’t needed Flynn at all …
Her eyes went to him, to the proud smile on his face.
No. She needed Flynn. She absolutely needed Flynn. Because he had given her this confidence.
She stepped down from the stage, and he closed the distance between them, drawing her close and kissing her.
She looked over at Danielle, who was standing with Michael, her boyfriend, and Michael, her brother. Flynn’s mother was standing next to Danielle too. And she was looking between the groups of people, clearly undone by the whole thing.
“Do you want to go say something to her?”
“She can come say something to me,” Flynn said.
She knew that wasn’t going to happen, and it made her heart hurt for him.
“Hey,” she said. “All of my supporters, come back to the Wild West Show, and we’ll have a bonfire.”
The announcement earned her a riotous cheer from the crowd. Her dad’s face suddenly lit up. “That’s right. Come to the Wild West Show. Home of Jessie Jane Hancock, your future mayor. Everyone who comes tonight will get ten percent off the next performance.”
Her mom drifted over to her and patted her on the arm. “You did a good job.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
She wrapped her arm around Lucinda’s shoulders, but only for a minute. Because her mother tensed up when there was too much unexpected touching.
