Page 33 of Shifting Gears

When Eleanor tries to imagine what it will all look like after development, it leaves a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach.

Before she heads back to the road, she pulls out her book to scrawl a note in the margin.

Preserve hiking trails.

* * *

Eleanor manages to write some more of her proposal in just under a week of focused work, even without a survey of the sold land she was looking for. It’s a complex series of necessities with rezoning and infrastructure—there’s a need for things like parking and dining, for example—but once completed, it should be exactly what she hoped: Luxury homes and cottages on the river shoreline would turn the land into a money-maker. A resort or wellness retreat could bring more tourists to the area, and if CromTech can manage to snatch up some of the many empty storefronts in Riverwalk at lowered prices, it’ll be easy to sell to businesses later.

It’s hard to put much effort into finishing it up, though, when those seeds of doubt that Dani and Naomi planted have turned into saplings—persistent, nagging whispers about whether this whole thing is as good an idea as she originally thought. Every time she opens her laptop, she keeps seeing images of what Dani’s face might look like if she found out that Eleanor was responsible for bulldozing her favourite creek.

Eleanor means to stay away from Dani until she leaves town. It’s partly embarrassment—the suspicion that she said something unsavoury at Pride solidified by Naomi’s comment—but it’s also partly the knowledge that with the survey and proposal well underway, the end of Eleanor’s time in Riverwalk is approaching faster than ever. Her anonymity is coming to an end. There’s no sense continuing to get attached.

A few days after making this resolution, Eleanor finds herself staring at a kitchen sink that refuses to drain.

She could deal with it herself. There’s probably a plumber or a handyman in town somewhere, findable with a quick Googlesearch. But in her head, she hears Naomi’s voice—nothing Dani wouldn’t like to hear.

Somehow, Eleanor ends up searching a completely different name.

“Cooper’s Tire and Auto, Dani speaking!”

Dani’s voice, warm and soothing even through a phone line, makes Eleanor’s stomach do a funny sort of twist. She has to clear her throat before she can speak.

“Dani, hi. It’s Nora.”

“Hey, you!” Dani says, clearly enthused.

Her happy tone makes Eleanor relax a little bit. She feels like a teenager, calling her crush and twirling the landline cord around her finger.

“Long time no talk,” Dani says.

There’s no disapproval or upset in her voice, but, even so, Eleanor feels the need to apologize. “Yes, I’m…sorry about that. I’ve been a bit busy.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Dani says easily, and Eleanor can see in her mind’s eye the casual wave Dani is probably doing. In the background of Dani’s line, some kind of hydraulic tool is buzzing. “What can I do ya for?”

“My sink isn’t working,” Eleanor says.

“You know this is an auto shop and not a plumbing service, right?”

Eleanor’s cheeks heat up. “I know. I just thought—well, I don’t know the businesses around here. I thought you could recommend someone?”

Eleanor hears the scratchy, muffled sound of the receiver being covered and a muted yell. After a moment, Dani is back, sounding cheery.

“I’ll be there in a couple minutes!”

“Oh, no,” Eleanor says, shaking her head at nobody, alone in her kitchen. “No, you’re at work. I just need a number to call.”

“Don’t be silly. I can fix it! Just give me a minute to grab my tool box, okay?”

Dani hangs up without confirmation. As the dial tone sounds in her ear, Eleanor looks around—at her cluttered kitchen, at her own pyjamas and slippers and her messy morning hair—and suddenly her body kicks into overdrive.

“Shit,” Eleanor mutters, throwing the phone onto the table. “Shit.”

She has approximately fifteen minutes before Dani gets here, and she needs to get herself ready faster than she ever has before.

Eleanor changes her clothes in a whirlwind, grabbing the first sundress she can find and throwing her hair into a bun. She foregoes contact lenses, shoving her glasses onto her face instead. She brushes her teeth while she frantically tidies the kitchen, the toothbrush hanging out of her mouth precariously, and by the time the doorbell rings, she’s feeling at least borderline presentable.

She opens the door to find Dani in cargo pants, a grubby tank, and the same blue-and-red flannel she wore over her Freddie Mercury outfit.

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