“Interest is high,” Sawyer said. “News broke about the potential change in the flood zones. Everyone is concerned about what it may mean for insurance rates.”
Paxton’s footsteps halted. She slowly turned to face him. “How did that get out?”
He shrugged. “Small town. Someone may have heard us talking about it at The Jazzy Bean.”
“Are people upset or just curious?”
“Both.”
She pitched her head back and groaned. “I do not need this.”
“It doesn’t matter what you’re doing. You’ll always have at least a few community members who will have a bone to pick with you.”
“Sure, but I’m used to folks being upset over the inconvenience caused by construction. You know, roads being closed around the site and things like that. I’m not used to dealing with hostility this early into a project.”
“This is Gauthier. You don’t have to worry about the crowd turning hostile on you, but you are talking about people’s money,” Sawyer said. “They’re going to be concerned.”
“Wait? Is Sawyer Robertson actually lecturingmeabout money?”
“Don’t,” he said.
“I do believeIwas the one who toldyouthat people were not going to take too kindly to having to pay more, especially when so many of them were screwed by the insurance companies during the last flood.”
“We both knew this would be an issue, just as we both know the new flood maps are necessary.” Sawyer looked her squarely in the eyes. “We’ve been over this.”
“I know.” She blew out an irritated sigh. “Don’t worry—I’m not going to stray from the plan.”
They were in this together. They’d devised a strategy for dealing with questions regarding the elevation maps.
Whether or not they were getting the new flood maps was no longer the question; everyone—from the powers that be at Bolt-Myer to Sawyer’s superiors at the Army Corps of Engineers—had agreed that this project could not go forward without the new maps. Their task tonight was to explain to the people of Gauthier just why they were needed and convince them that it was in the best interests of the town.
Yeah, she was not looking forward to this.
Paxton held the door open for Sawyer and followed him into the auditorium. If she was to give a rough estimate, she’d say there were at least a hundred people already filling the seats. The atmosphere suffusing the room held a tension that made the hair on the back of Paxton’s neck stand on end.
She spotted Shayla, who was at a table that had been set up in the corner. Six carry-away cardboard cartons bearing The Jazzy Bean’s logo sat atop the table, along with a stack of paper coffee cups, cream, sugar packets, and other coffee fixings.
“Thanks for bringing this,” Paxton said, giving her a hug.
Shayla hugged her back, then punched her in the arm.
“Hey!” Paxton said, rubbing the spot where she’d taken the hit. “What was that for?”
Shayla leaned in and whispered fiercely, “I didn’t get a post-orgasm call.”
“Do you ever callmepost-orgasm?” Paxton asked. Then she held up a hand. “Don’t answer that.”
“Did you two do it or not?” Shayla asked.
Paxton glanced over her shoulder. “Yes,” she finally said. Shayla started to squeal, but Paxton seared her with a look that said she’d better shut it up right now. She spotted Sawyer coming up to them. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
“Hey, is Matt here yet?” Sawyer asked. He looked at Shayla, whose smile was so wide that Paxton didn’t know how her face didn’t split in half. Then he looked at her, one brow raised, his eyes lit with amusement.
“Don’t worry,” Shayla said. “She didn’t kiss and tell. Yet. And no, Matt isn’t here, but the meeting doesn’t start for another twenty minutes. He’ll be here on time. He always is.”
“It’s okay if he’s running a little late,” Paxton said. “Mya is before him on the agenda anyway. I’ve asked her to run the meeting. Residents have come to trust Mya. She’ll put people at ease.”
Shayla went back to smiling, and Paxton went back to wanting to knock her upside the head.
