“I am too,” I whisper.
And in that moment I realize something else.
I’m not scared of him.
I’m scared of what trusting him would mean.
40
Marco
The first sign is a zoning denial.
Which should be impossible.
I’m sitting in a small office inside Eagle River’s only bank, pretending I’m here to discuss personal accounts while quietly reading through a stack of municipal paperwork the manager absolutely shouldn’t be showing me.
Mrs. Calder keeps glancing nervously at the door like someone might walk in and catch her.
They won’t.
People in small towns still trust the wrong things.
“Who filed the appeal?” I ask.
Mrs. Calder adjusts her glasses and studies the document again.
“It came through a holding company,” she says carefully. “Registered in Delaware.”
Of course it did.
“Name?”
She flips the page.
“Northstar Development Group.”
My stomach tightens.
My mother likes stars in her shell companies when she’s feeling poetic.
“And what exactly are they appealing?” I ask.
Mrs. Calder slides the paper closer to me.
“The rebuilding permit for Miller’s Hardware. And two adjacent properties.”
Of course, she is.
The building that burned.
The wound the town is still staring at.
“Why?” I ask.
Mrs. Calder shrugs uneasily.
“They’re claiming historical review concerns. Environmental impact issues. There’s no merit to it, but…”
