I’d just spoken to a local resident who was looking into starting a business when Simon Stark strode up.
“Hey, neighbor,” he said, flashing that smile that looked both genuine and fake at the same time.
I shook his hand, wondering what he meant by neighbor. He’d bought a mansion outside of town that had once belonged to a brewery owner, but that was over on the other side of town from my place. I wouldn’t call him a neighbor.
“Mr. Stark. What brings you to Salvation?”
“I haven’t given up on bringing opportunities to the good people of Salvation.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I’d supported his prison idea because we needed the jobs, but the town was adamant that it didn’t want to lose its farming tradition. Stark didn’t seem to take the rejection well.
“Oh? What new opportunities are you looking at?”
“Small business, for one,” he said affably.
I scanned my brain for any memory of news about new local business permits or existing businesses going up for sale.
“But I also have the opportunity to buy a piece of distressed property not far from your place. It would be ideal for a landfill or waste treatment plant.” He sniffed. “You’ll be able to smell the prosperity Stark Industries brings to Salvation.”
He was going to make sure I rued the day I’d taken his meeting about bringing jobs to Salvation. But then his words sunk in. What land near me? The only piece of land large enough for a project that big, besides my own, was Frank’s. He wasn’t selling his land, was he? Wait, did Stark say the land was distressed?
“You might consider ingratiating yourself into the town of Salvation instead of bullying your way in,” I said.
He shrugged. “I was nice, and what did it get me? I’m a businessman, Mr. Mayor. Whether people like me or not is irrelevant.”
“We both know that’s not true,” I said. “Sure, your money can buy you a lot. But acceptance? A welcome? Not so much. And in a town like Salvation, your success depends a great deal on whether or not people like you.” I nodded. “Have a good day, Mr. Stark.”
I hurried off, returning to my car and driving like the wind out to Frank’s. It was close to lunch, and I had to hope Frank was at the house or barn and not out on the ranch. I parked in front of the house, taking his porch steps by twos to the front door.
“Mo! What a surprise. Come in, come in. I was just making some lunch,” Frank said when he opened the door. Then he frowned. “Is everything okay with Brooke?”
“I’m not here about her.”
“Oh?” He motioned me to the living room. “But something’s up. I can tell.”
I entered the living area but didn’t sit. “Are you selling your land to Simon Stark?”
Frank’s expression fell, and he looked down.
“Oh, hell, Frank. Tell me it’s not a done deal.”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t hear about it. At least not for a while.” He walked to his kitchen. “I need a drink. You?”
“Sure.” I followed him in. “What’s going on, Frank? You know the type of man Stark is. Why would you sell to him?”
Frank poured a finger of whiskey, downed it, and then poured more in his glass and some in a second glass. He handed me the other glass and then went to sit at the table in the kitchen. It was early for a drink, but then, I was reeling from the idea that Simon Stark might indeed become my neighbor.
“I’m broke, Mo. I have to sell, or the bank will take it, and I’ll have nothing.” He rubbed a hand over his face.
I knew it couldn’t be easy to share this with me. At the same time, we were friends. Close friends. Brothers, even. Why didn’t he come to me?
“He made me a decent offer. One that would leave something for Brooke and enough for me to live on. I can’t pass it up,” he finished.
I sat across from him. “How did this happen?” We both had cattle ranches, and while there had been economic issues that hurt farmers, people still liked their beef. He shouldn’t be struggling.
He shook his head. “Some poor decisions. Brooke’s college education. A few bad investments.”
“Why didn’t you come to me for help?” He and I had been friends for so long. Surely he knew I’d help him.