She let out another of those sighs, the kind that said she was tired of dealing with the insufferable human being standing before her.
“I don’t have time to fight with you right now.” She grabbed her glass of iced tea and returned to the counter. “Can I see the new menu?” she called to Shayla. “I want to grab some lunch and get back to working on the agenda for the town hall meeting.”
“When is it?” Shayla asked, handing her a laminated menu.
“A week from today. I’d really appreciate it if you would get the word out,” Paxton said. “This is the community’s chance to bring up any questions regarding the new flood-protection system before construction begins. I know people have questions.”
“You’re right about that,” someone said.
They all turned as Nathan Robottom, who owned the hardware store several storefronts down on Main, butted into their conversation. He, along with Harold Porter, sat at Shayla’s counter, his knobby fingers wrapped around a ceramic mug.
Nathan scooted off his stool and came to where they were all standing. “That new millage tax we approved is supposed to pay for this new levee you guys are putting together, right?”
“Actually,” Sawyer replied, “it’s a combination barrier and reservoir system, but alternatives are still—”
“Yes, it is, Mr. Robottom,” Paxton said. “The residents of Gauthier did a good thing when they voted to approve the new tax. We’re going to make sure the money is well spent.”
She peered at Sawyer over the rim of her cup, her brow pitched high. Sawyer had worked on enough of these projects to understand her body language:Keep thingsvague for now.If they got too specific this early into the project, everyone with an opinion would be pounding down the doors of the conference room, wanting their ideas on the best way to fix Gauthier’s flood problem to be heard.
“Yes, the money will be put to good use,” Sawyer said. “We’re not going to have another incident like the one that happened with Tropical Storm Lucy.”
“Good, because that storm didn’t do nobody no favors,” Nathan said as he climbed back onto the stool he seemed to occupy every single time Sawyer came into The Jazzy Bean. “You’ll see me at that town hall meeting. I want to make sure it’s all on the up-and-up.”
“Be there next Monday,” Paxton said.
She looked at Sawyer again, a knowing smile playing at her lips, a glimmer of relief in her eyes. That brief taste of shared camaraderie sank into his bones. Maybe now she could look at them as being on the same team instead of constant adversaries.
Sawyer scored yet another victory when he was able to convince her to eat at the coffee shop instead of bringing their meals back to the conference room. They gave Shayla their food orders, then carried their sweet iced tea to one of the sidewalk tables in front of The Jazzy Bean. They were the only ones available on this busy Monday afternoon.
Sawyer pulled out Paxton’s chair without even thinking about it. She stared at it for a moment, and Sawyer prepared himself for another lecture on sexism. But she simply said, “Thank you,” before taking a seat.
He rounded the small table and sat across from her.
Paxton gazed out over the street, idly stirring the straw poking out of her iced tea. “It’s a pretty day,” she said.
“Yeah,” Sawyer agreed. He looked up at the cloudless sky. “Maybe we’ll finally have a day without rain.”
“At least the rain showers haven’t been too heavy.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Are we really talking about the weather?”
She brought her gaze to his. “It seems like the safest topic. Anything else will probably turn into a fight.”
Sawyer’s eyes slid shut. He tipped his head back and released an aggravated sigh. “It doesn’t have to be that way, Paxton. For the most part, last week was peaceful. Why can’t we go back to that?”
“You don’t get to ask that question, not when you are the one responsible for creating the chaos.”
“Okay, first of all,chaosis a bit over the top. I made an observation, a valid one. I refuse to back down when it comes to the surveyors. You need to trust me on this. The very least you can do is consult with the engineering team at Bolt-Myer. Let them know my concerns and see what they think.”
She sat upright in her chair. “I—”
“Okay, here we go,” Shayla said, arriving at their tables with her hands full. She set the first plate in front of Sawyer. “One caprese with extra basil.” She turned to Paxton. “And one roast beef po’boy with a bag of chips. I’m out of those butter pickles you love so much,” she added. “I forgot to order additional jars from Mrs. Blackwell before she went out of town. I’ll give you two spears the next time you’re here.”
Shayla’s eyes darted between Paxton and Sawyer. “Um, is everything okay?” she asked.
“It’s fine.”
“Yes.”
