“What can I get you?” I asked her.
“Orange juice.” She hopped up on the barstool.
I grabbed a juice glass and pulled the bottle of OJ from the fridge. I poured her a glass and set it in front of her.
“Anything extra? Vodka?”
She shook her head. “No Thank you.” She took a sip and then asked, “Are you familiar with Simon Stark?”
I scoffed. “Everyone in Salvation knows Stark.”
She laughed. “Funny how many people have that same reaction.” She extended her hand over the bar. “I’m Erica Edmonds. I’m a writer doing a piece on Stark. Would you be able to answer a few questions?”
I shook her hand. “Ryder Simms. I don’t know him personally. I haven’t had any dealings with him.” That wasn’t completely true. He did crash my sister’s second wedding to Wyatt and tried to discredit her.
She took out a journalist’s notebook. “Is it true the town was able to thwart his effort to build a prison?” She sipped her juice as her green eyes watched me.
I shrugged. “I can tell you what I’ve heard. Like I said, I don’t have direct dealings with him except booing him when he called my sister a fraud at her wedding.”
“Oh? That must have been interesting.”
I smiled. “Just another day in Salvation. We take things pretty easy around here.” Well most of us. Trina didn’t. I thought maybe Ms. Edmonds should talk to her. Trina would give her an earful on Stark although hopefully not the part about how Sinclair and Wyatt’s first marriage was a business arrangement to get rid of Stark.
“He has a reputation of getting what he wants. Rumor is that the mayor was all for this prison,” she said.
“The thing is, we’re a farming community, and we’re close-knit. Stark and the mayor underestimated the people here and their commitment to each other.”
She wrote a note on her pad. “Can I quote you?”
“Sure, why not?” I grabbed a towel and wiped the bar.
“It’s my understanding that your sister, the deputy mayor, played a role in keeping his prison out.” She said it in a way that suggested she knew more than she was letting on. Chances were we she knew about Sinclair and Wyatt, and that I was related to them.
I nodded. “That’s right. You should talk to her though.”
“I will. I’m trying to gather the towns’ people’s impressions. The mayor was hoping the prison would bring jobs, and now with the prison plan thwarted, those jobs aren’t coming. Are there other people who resent the farmers for that?”
“If they do, I haven’t heard about it.” I noticed another customer at the end of the bar and excused myself to serve him.
When I returned, she asked, “Stark isn’t one to lose. Is there any concern he’ll retaliate?”
I shrugged. “By doing what? The people were clear they didn’t want him around. If he’s a businessman, it would seem like a better idea to find another place to build his prison.”
“You do know he has a large home on the outskirts of Salvation?”
“More like a compound,” I quipped at the ostentatious walled-in complex that didn’t fit with the conservative rural town. “It’s my understanding that he doesn’t live there, though. I’d think Salvation was too small for a man like Stark.”
She arched a brow. “Why do you say that?”
“We’re not flashy people, Ms. Edmonds—“
“Call me Erica.”
“Life is slow here. Someone like Stark would get bored.”
“Hmm.” She took more notes on her pad. “So why do you think he’s stuck around?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care.”