To Get Me to You (Wishful 1)

“Be that as it may, the fact is that life is change. You either adapt and survive or you stagnate and die. I know you love Wishful exactly as it is, and you want to preserve it. That’s admirable and is part of what endears you to many of your constituents. But if we're going to make it in today's world, we may have to do some things for our town that we won't necessarily like. We need jobs to keep the people. Without them, we have no town."

Something in her tone put him on edge. “Is there something you’re not telling me? Some new development?”

Sandra lifted her hands for peace. “I don’t know anything yet. Vick’s making noises about having some potentially interesting news by the next City Council meeting.”

Cam scowled. City Planner Victor Burgess was as close as he had to a nemesis. Cam felt like he spent more than half his time and energy as a City Councilman trying to block whatever cock-eyed scheme Burgess came up with, in order to keep Wishful from turning into yet another soulless, cookie cutter suburbia. “God forbid the man actually spend some time thinking about what’s truly good for this community.”

“Now son, that’s not fair. Vick does think he’s doing what’s best for Wishful. It just happens you two don’t see eye to eye on what that actually is.”

“And we never will.”

“Campbell, our town is in trouble. Whatever it is he’s got up his sleeve, I want you to give it a fair chance. Promise to at least hear him out.”

Cam managed not to grind his teeth. “Yes, ma’am.”

He understood that Wishful needed help. It needed jobs and an influx of serious cash into the economy. But he couldn’t help hoping that there was some other way than courting the big industries that would come in and change the entire tone of the town.

“That’s enough about that. No reason to borrow trouble before we absolutely have to. Are you about done here?”

“I ought to be working on year end reports but, as Violet pointed out, I’m not. You wanna go grab some dinner? We can be completely decadent and hit up Tosca. Ask for extra cheese on everything and tiramisu for dessert.” Cam laid a hand over hers. “You deserve to splurge. You’re still not back to fighting weight.”

Sandra turned her palm up and squeezed his fingers. “It’s been eighteen months, baby. I’m fine.”

Eighteen months, two weeks, three days since the chemotherapy was pronounced a success. Cam wondered if he’d ever stop counting the days. Probably not, if only to give thanks for each additional one.

“Anyway, I can’t. I’m going over to help Molly put together a welcome home party for Liam.” She tugged her hand away and picked up her purse.

“Welcome home?”

“He’s leaving the service and coming home to Wishful.”

The eldest of four, Liam Montgomery and his two brothers had been in the Marines almost as long as Cam could remember. “Wow. I know she’s thrilled. Anything I can do to help?” Please say no. All he really wanted at this point was to get on home. But if they needed anything, he’d suck it up and deal.

“Not right now, but I’ll let you know. The party’s at Speakeasy day after tomorrow.”

Translation: Your presence is expected.

Cam held in a sigh. Yet another social engagement he couldn’t dodge. At this rate he was earning some serious cave time. He rose to escort her out to her car. “I’ll be sure to make some time to stop by and welcome him home.”

Sandra rose to her toes to kiss his cheek. “Go home and enjoy your quiet, darlin’. I know you’re always worn out by all the social of the holidays, and Miranda’s going to expect you at her New Year’s Eve party.”

He groaned. “Why do I need to be there? The world is going to be there.”

She patted his cheek. “Because you are not spending another year at home alone with your dog. You need to be out with other young people having a good time. And you will go because she’s family and it will make her happy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Sometimes family obligations were a real bitch.

Chapter 3

At the sound of the crash, Norah jolted upright, hands clenching on the steering wheel as a scream clogged in her throat. But her car was still idling at the light, all in one piece. In park.

When had she done that?

Another tap came on the window. A tap. Not the crash in her dream. “Are you all right?”

Norah turned toward the muffled voice, her brain refusing to engage. A woman hunched outside the passenger side window, concern written across her face.