To Get Me to You (Wishful 1)

“Yeah, no, I agree. Let’s take it.”

“Okay. I’ll make it happen, get the settlement paperwork in the mail ASAP.”

“I’ll look for it in the next few days. Thanks Marcus.” She hung up, shifting to slide the phone into her pocket.

“You’re shaking.”

“Shock, I think.” The long, slow exhale didn’t help. “It’s over.”

When she said nothing else, Cam turned her to face him. He was braced for the worst, prepared to be her rock.

“And?”

“Helios is going to settle. Six months’ salary and attorney’s fees, plus documented retractions of all allegations. Marcus said I could hold out for more in damages, but…”

“That’s not what this is about for you.”

“No. It’s so much more than I’d hoped for.” Her throat tightened as all the stress and strain of the past weeks came to a head. She pressed a hand to her mouth, shoulders shaking harder as she dropped her head to his chest.

Cam gathered her in, stroking her back in that way he had of soothing. But it wasn’t tears that spilled out between her fingers, it was laughter.

She lifted her head and reached to frame his face. “Oh my God. Cam! Their lunatic plan worked! I’m getting my reputation back!”

Fueled by boundless relief and joy, she cut off whatever congratulatory remark he started to make, with an enthusiastic kiss. Dropping back to her feet, she beamed. “I don’t know what to do with myself. If I wasn’t so damned tired, I’d turn cartwheels.”

“Well,” Cam said, a trifle breathless, “as it happens we’re at a party, so I say we celebrate.”

~*~

After attempting one last head count of the people lining the bleachers in the community center, Cam went in search of the lady of the hour. He found her in a huddle with Cecily and Christoff—her default position the last several days. After the last few months, he’d thought he knew wha

t Norah was like when she brought her A game. Having her team back showed him exactly how wrong he was. The three of them had a kind of synergy that was a pleasure to watch. They’d turned the Chamber of Commerce press conference about the referendum into an event that drew media—print, TV, and radio—from all over the state, even a few from neighboring Alabama, Louisiana, and Tennessee. Their David vs. Goliath fight was making regional headlines. In the few days since, the coalition had been contacted by other small Southern towns interested in learning from Wishful’s example.

“—not coming tonight, but whenever he makes it down for the initial business meetings with the city, I want to introduce you both,” Norah said. “Gerald wants me and my skills, and you’re an extension of that in the best possible way. I think Peyton Consolidated could be a good fit for you.”

“I certainly won’t turn down the connection,” Christoff said. “I could learn to ski.”

“Has Peyton figured out that if he gives you an inch, you’ll take a mile?” Cam asked.

“He hasn’t complained yet.” Norah moved toward the gymnasium doors with her team at her back. “What’s the crowd like?”

“It’s standing room only in there. Lotta people came out.”

“Good. We’ll need them all.” Turning to Christoff and Cecily, she put out a hand. “All in.” They layered their hands over hers. She looked at Cam, expectant, so he added his to the pile. “Let’s lock and load, people.” They broke formation, and she stepped into the roar of voices without a backward glance.

The mob inside felt like loosely-controlled chaos to Cam. Too many bodies in one enclosed space, all of them talking. He was pretty sure this might be one of the circles of hell. As he tried to sort out the best means of calling their attention, Norah slid two fingers between her lips and let out a piercing whistle that left his ears ringing. Apparently Tyler had been giving lessons. The crowd silenced, all attention shifted to her.

“That’s better.”

With a friendly smile, Norah stepped up onto the low stage erected at one side of the room. After a brief glance at the podium, she kept in front of it, at ease and confident in a way Cam envied. He hated public speaking. No matter how often he did it, having to address more than half a dozen people made his skin crawl. She held no notes, no clicker to advance her slides, nothing to keep her hands occupied. Christoff was manning the laptop and projector, a feat he managed with alacrity, since the two could evidently share a mind meld at will.

“Thank y’all for coming out tonight. As you all know, tomorrow is the public referendum wherein the citizens of Wishful have the opportunity to cast their vote for or against a statute that would institute a size cap on businesses operating within its boundaries. I urge you all to uphold your civic duty and hit up the polls.” She paused, scanning faces. “But that’s not what we’re here to talk about tonight.”

The PowerPoint presentation popped up on the screen behind Norah, but she didn’t give it a glance. “There’s been a slow erosion of the tax base, of profit margins, of straight up population in Wishful for the last twenty or thirty years. What we’re here to talk about is how it got that way and what we can do to stop it.”

Quick and efficient, she spouted relevant statistics, citing the change in population and work force through various stages of the town’s economic downturn as the furniture manufacturing industry, and all the peripheral manufacturing that went with it, moved elsewhere. The malaise that seemed to settle over the assembly was palpable. Cam knew her tactics, trusted they’d work, but he wasn’t any more immune to the spell she was weaving than anyone else.

“Efforts have been made to recruit other industries that could piggyback on the existing infrastructure and workforce remaining from the manufacturing base. But Wishful is having to compete with larger micropolitans, like Lawley. And even if such an industry set up shop, they could leave. Exactly like Heirloom. And then where would Wishful be? Exactly where it is now. Maybe worse.” She paused to take a sip of water and let that sink in.