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“That means Voss can build a hotel there. It doesn’t mean they can build any hotel they want.”

I glance at the old department store. “I raised that at the first hearing. It’s not going to stop them. The council only delayed the vote because of the service lane.”

Rhonda shakes her head.

“I’ve spoken to the council members. Four of them won’t support the current design. Voss doesn’t have the votes.”

My eyes widen. “What?”

“The council is going to reject the application because it doesn’t fit the street.”

“You’re sure?”

“Completely.”

Rhonda has spent twenty years fighting to protect historic buildings in Alton Hills. She has appeared before the council dozens of times, worked with most of its current members, and followed how each one voted on projects like this. If she says four of them won’t support the current plans, I believe her.

Relief rushes through me. The hotel might actually be stopped. Grandma is going to be ecstatic.

“Then why the protest?” I ask. “If the council already plans to vote no, what does this change?”

“The planning reasons are already there, but the council members still have to defend their decision. Voss will bring lawyers, experts, and promises to fix whatever they don’t like.” Rhonda gestures toward the protesters and news crews. “This crowd gives the council public support to reject the application and warns Voss that any new plan will face the same fight.”

That makes sense.

I picture Eric sitting across from me on the train, and some of my relief fades. A week ago, I would’ve joined this protest without a second thought. But last night, Eric took me to dinner, and I had a wonderful time with him.

That doesn’t mean he comes before the Hartwell. He knew I would keep fighting the development when he asked me out, and I never promised to stop. Still, standing beside protesters and a news camera the morning after agreeing to another date feels different from challenging his plans at a council meeting. That felt like business. This feels like an attack on him, even though I don’t mean it that way.

The reporter approaches us. “Ms. Hartwell?”

“Yes?”

“I’m Lydia Chen with Alton Hills Eight. We’re going live in less than a minute. Could we get a short statement?”

“I didn’t organize this.”

Rhonda steps closer and lowers her voice. “People will listen to you.”

The reporter glances toward her cameraman. “Forty seconds.”

I could say no. I haven’t prepared anything to say. Then I look at the drawing of the tower on one of the flyers. Even on paper, it rises above every other building on the street. The Hartwell still has to come first. Eric said he understood that last night. I guess I’m about to find out if he meant it.

“Okay,” I tell the reporter.

She clips a small microphone to my dress and leads me in front of the camera. Rhonda and the other protesters gather behind us. Several signs rise higher.

“We’re live in ten,” the cameraman says.

The reporter turns toward the camera and waits for the count in. “A protest is underway this morning on Hartwell Boulevard, where members of the Alton Hills Heritage Society and local business owners are calling on the council to reject the proposed Voss hotel development.”

She turns to me. “I’m joined by Rachel Hartwell, who runs the neighboring Hartwell Hotel. Ms. Hartwell, what concerns you most about the proposal?”

“The size. Most buildings on Hartwell Boulevard are no more than four stories. Even the Hartwell, the largest building here, is only nine. Voss wants to place a twenty-four-story glass tower beside us. It would change the whole street.”

“The site is outside the historic district. Why should heritage rules apply?”

“They don’t. Voss passed the heritage review.” I gesture toward the surrounding buildings. “But the council can still consider whether a major development fits the area around it. A line on a city map won’t stop people from seeing that tower from every part of the boulevard.”