Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 95264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“Damn straight. What else you got?”
“A few things. Did you know that Dieter’s has served not only JFK, but a whole bunch of famous people?” I list off dozens of names—governors, senators, house members, along with three Hall of Famers who visited regularly.
She scratches her chin in thought. “That might work.”
“Other than that, I pulled together a list of businesses that have been in there.” Over the years, the other storefronts were home to a wide range of businesses supporting Polson Falls—a cobbler, a tack shop, an accountant, an art gallery, a coffee shop, and a small law office for a young attorney who years later became famous for a high-profile murder case.
“Can I have that?” Shirley points to my notes. “I want to pass it all along to Colin. He’s the editor-in-chief at the Tribune. He promised he’d put out a story for us, and this’ll speed things up.”
“Sure.” I tear out the pages and hand them to her. “What about that heritage commissioner?”
“Michelle?” Shirley’s lips twist with displeasure. “She said she’d look into it, but she’s not sure how many people will care.”
“Oh, you mean, these people?” I pull up the Facebook group on my phone. “Haven’t you seen this yet?” I spent an hour crafting my concerned citizen message last Friday night, including as much history about the businesses in this building as I could dig up from the internet, lacing it with nostalgia and peppering in some support local rah-rah before I hit Post and crawled into bed.
I woke to a hundred new notifications and anger. From there I just sat back and watched it grow legs of its own all weekend. Some people dared to suggest a new building might be nice, and the proud Polsonites squashed their opinions with snarky “Go back to the city where you belong, then!” reactions. The demands I was hoping for, though? That the building be preserved, that HG restore the current structure rather than tear it down?
There were dozens of those.
Shirley adjusts her glasses, squinting to try to read my screen. “Where is this from?”
“The Polson Falls Citizen Bulletin group on Facebook.”
Her face screws up as she waves it off. “No time for that.”
“You should make time. These are your people.” I start reading through the comments out loud. “‘If Mayor Gump spent more time listening to his constituents and less time rubbing elbows and who knows what else with these developers, destruction like this wouldn’t be happening.’”
Shirley snorts.
“‘I knew Gump back when he was failing ninth grade math. Which of you morons elected him to run our town?’ Ouch. Surprised that one didn’t get taken down.”
“It’s the truth!”
“Either way, your editor friend needs to see this. Same with Michelle.” If they’re not already in the group, lurking like the majority of the ten thousand members do. “There are hundreds of people who don’t want this condo going in and others who don’t care about the condo but don’t want the building torn down.”
“Just you wait. I used to babysit Colin, and I got him that job at the paper. He writes whatever I tell him to. I’ll write the damn article if I have to.” She thumps the table surface with her fist. “By the time we’re through, everyone is going to know what HG and Gump tried to get away with.”
“You ever watch those nature channel shows?” Harper is suddenly hovering over our shoulders. “Where the killer whales work as a team to knock the seals off the ice shelves so they can get at them? That’s what this feels like”—she waggles her finger back and forth—“the two of you with your heads together.” She tucks her file folder under her arm. “What are you doing here, Justine? It’s not Friday.”
“Just visiting. No big deal.” I smile sweetly.
“No big deal, huh?” She studies us. “I’d say you’re plotting world domination.”
Shirley folds the page of notes and tucks them in her cardigan pocket. “Not the world. Just Polson Falls.”
“Did I tell you that I really like that new color on you?” I nod toward the earthy lipstick shade, a stunning complement to Harper’s golden-brown skin. “Who are you dressing those luscious lips for?” Rumor has it Harper takes extra coffee breaks when Philip from the maintenance company is here to fix leaky pipes and clogged toilets.
Her nostrils flare. “Myself.”
“Good answer. We dress for ourselves, not for men.”
“Don’t you be trying to butter me up. I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“I wasn’t trying to butter you up, I swear!” I hesitate. “But if I started coming in more than once a week, do you think I could get a crack at calling the—”
“No.”
“It was worth a shot,” I grumble.
“And you. I heard what you’ve been up to.” Harper’s attention shifts to her resident, and there’s a tone of reprimand hanging in that statement.