Page 35 of The Christmas Eve Delivery

The librarian wore thick glasses and dressed like she was eighty, while it was clear she was only in her mid-twenties. If she was thirty, color me surprised. Behind her thick glasses and geriatric fashion choices, she wasn’t unattractive—just not my type. The librarian was already the prime candidate for the town sleuth.

Of course, the local inn was run by the town goddess. She was sweet and sexy and probably didn’t realize how stunning she really was. And if Brookdale was a show, she would have a man who knew exactly how special she was. He would not take her for granted and would do everything he could to make her smile.

For some reason, I could picture myself as that man. My character would only wear jeans, those yellow Timberland boots, flannel shirts, and baseball caps. The shirts would always be red, unless there was something special happening and then they would be blue.

Of course, there was the mayor who tossed up decorations around town for any reason possible. All Brookdale needed was a soundtrack and a plot twist to get everyone together and organized. They needed a murder mystery, or to come together to fight off the… well, fuck.

They were coming together to fight off the big city corporation that wanted to swoop in and change everything. I was not thrilled to identify JM Carlisle Group as the big city bad guy in this scenario.

My mood soured immediately. I took a long pull on my drink. I much preferred myself as the love interest and not the evil corporation coming in to destroy everything.

With a quick shake of my head that rolled down into my shoulders, I shook off the daydream of Brookdale as some kind of movie or weekly television show. This was reality, not TV. And in the real world, real estate development brought good changes. Opening a resort in the town of Brookdale would not only change the economic landscape of the town, but of the region.

I wasn’t the bad guy. But I also wasn’t the flannel wearing handyman who got the girl.

“Miles?” Jackson called my name, pulling me out of my reverie.

I blinked a few times and let my vision return to what was in front of me. Jackson. He no longer looked so cocky and smug, but was that confusion and concern I saw?

“What did this contact tell you?” I asked, ignoring the expression I saw on his face.

“They’ve been holding what amounts to town meetings. Apparently, everyone has been showing up.”

“You said meetings? More than one?”

Jackson nodded. “Apparently, they had one meeting where the mayor shared our plans, and he even mentioned the new post office and equipment. People had so many questions, they ended up having to roll everything into a second meeting.”

“Questions?”

“Yeah. It seems like people are very interested in the benefits the resort might bring. We might actually have ground swell. Most of the homeowners are older, and they are apparently interested.”

“According to your source,” I said.

“Exactly, according to my source. Also, there seemed to be serious interest in the jobs the resort would bring in. Lots of questions as to the types of jobs available. Of course, the mayor and his committee?—”

“Committee?”

“They have a newly formed historical preservation group. Apparently, that’s who hosted these meetings.”

I started to laugh. “The historical group hosted a town meeting and instead of raising pitchforks and torches to come after us, they got people asking about jobs and timetables. I love it.”

I wasn’t the bad guy, after all. No, I was the charming out of towner who would come in and save the day. My vision would bring in jobs and give an older generation a chance to enjoy their last days instead of being financially trapped in a place that no longer served their needs.

And I would take away the one thing that Lydia seemed to love above all else. The town would sing my praises, but if I were being honest with myself, Lydia was never going to forgive me for leveling her beloved Sweet Mountain Inn.

“Did you get a sense of how receptive they would be if we went up and made a more formal presentation?” I asked. “Maybe if they get the details from us directly. We are better positioned tobe able to answer a lot more of their questions. Reach out to the mayor, see if he’s open to a town meeting with us.”

Jackson shrugged. He was still nursing his drink. “I’m under the impression that the mayor is still Team Save The Old Buildings. I don’t know how receptive he would be to putting us in front of everyone,” Jackson said.

“You think he might stab us in the backs if the town starts cheering us on?” I asked.

“I don’t think the mayor has enough personal fortitude for something like that. But that little librarian, certainly. She scares me. I wouldn’t put it past her to either sabotage us or literally sink a real knife in. She’s vicious and is prepared to fight to the death for that library of hers,” Jackson pointed out.

He wasn’t wrong, and I expected Lydia would be the same, fiercely protective over her property and not welcoming if we came up to make a presentation.

I set my empty glass on the coffee table before standing. I paced around the seating area before crossing the office to stare out the window. “We can wait to see if your contact up there reports any other meetings while we can continue to move forward.”

“Forward?” Jackson asked.

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