Page 12 of Clear Path

Now, the street hummed with activity. Tourists and transplants mingled, their laughter carrying in the night. Soft music rose on the cool spring breeze. This was her vision realized: a revitalized Union Hill, reborn as a destination rather than a pit stop on the way nowhere.

Her server approached the table, but before Julie could order, movement across the street caught her eye. A tall, willowy figure with distinctive icy blonde hair descended the exterior staircase of the renovated mercantile building—her first successful conversion project. Julie recognized Rory instantly. The former supermodel was unmistakable even at a distance.

Rory glanced at her and crossed the street with a purposeful stride, heading directly toward the bistro’s courtyard. Julie straightened in her chair, oddly pleased. Rory Westin was exactly the type of resident she’d hoped to attract when she’d begun investing in Union Hill—creative, sophisticated, cosmopolitan. The photographer had biked the Great Allegheny Passage from the C&O Canal Towpath connector two Aprils ago. After a weekend stay in Union Hill, she’d promptly fallen in love with the town and returned to Washington just long enough to pack her belongings before relocating to Julie’s first residential property.

“I’ll give you a few more minutes,” the server said, noting Rory’s approach. He melted into the background.

Rory slipped into the chair across from Julie, her snow-white cashmere wrap luminous in the dim light. Up close, the photographer’s high, curved cheekbones were taut, her muscles tensed, almost as if she were going into battle. July couldn’t imagine why.

“What a lovely surprise,” she said warmly, gesturing to her wine. “Let me order you a glass. The cabernet is excellent.”

“No, thank you,” Rory replied, her voice cool and measured. “I’m not staying.”

Something in her tone made Julie set down her glass. “Is everything all right with the apartment? If there’s a maintenance issue?—”

“This isn’t about my apartment,” Rory cut in. “It’s about Lydia Hudson’s home.”

Julie blinked slowly and tried to hide her surprise at being ambushed for the second time about Lydia Hudson. She couldn’t imagine Rory knew the woman, let alone cared about the situation. Then she remembered the photographer across the road, sitting with Lydia as she watched her house crumble to the ground.

“I see,” she said carefully. “You were at the demolition site today.”

“I was documenting it. For Mrs. Hudson.” Her tone held a challenge.

Bristling, Julie sipped her wine before responding. She used the moment to collect her thoughts and form a tactful response. “It’s unfortunate Lydia had to be relocated. Unfortunate, but necessary for the town’s growth.”

“Necessary?” Rory’s cornflower blue eyes flashed. “It was necessary to force a woman out of her family home? A home that’s stood for over a century, a home that her grandparents built with their own hands?”

“The town council determined?—”

“The town council is stacked with your business associates,” Rory interrupted. “Let’s not pretend this was some democratic process. You wanted that property for your luxury lofts, and when Lydia wouldn’t sell, you used eminent domain as a weapon.”

Julie’s skin heated as a flush crept up her neck, but she maintained a neutral expression. This was far from the first timeshe’d faced criticism for her development projects, although itwasthe first she’d been challenged by someone who so directly benefited from them.

“I understand it looks harsh from the outside,” Julie said, her voice even. “But you don’t know what it was like before. Union Hill was dying, Rory. The young people left in droves because there were no jobs. Buildings literally crumbled from neglect. The tax base couldn’t support basic services.” She leaned forward. “My projects create economic opportunity. The Allegheny Luxury Lofts will bring construction jobs, service positions, increased tourism?—”

“At what cost?” Rory challenged. “And for whose benefit? Certainly not for people like Lydia.”

Julie’s professional smile faltered. “Not everyone will benefit equally in the short term, that’s true. Change is difficult. But in the long run, a rising tide lifts all boats.”

Rory scoffed. “A rising tide drowns those who can’t afford a boat. People aren’t abstract economic units, Julie. They’re human beings with histories and memories. They have emotional attachments to their homes. Did you even talk to Lydia before you decided to bulldoze her home?”

The accusation stung because it contained a kernel of truth. Julie had sent lawyers and real estate appraisers to the Hudson home bearing offers. But, no, she’d never sat down with Lydia herself.

“It isn’t personal,” Julie insisted. “It’s business.”

“It’s personal to Lydia. It’s personal to everyone being pushed out of their homes and businesses.” Rory’s voice rose slightly, drawing glances from diners at nearby tables. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be displaced? To have your entire life upended because someone more powerful decides your home, your community, your footprint, isn’t valuable enough to exist?”

The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on Julie. She gestured toward the square. “You wouldn’t even be here if not for the development you’re criticizing. That studio apartment you love so much? It used to be a derelict storage space above a failing mercantile store. The owner was drowning in debt and about to lose the building to the bank. I paid him a fair price and created something viable. I displaced him for people likeyou.”

Rory didn’t flinch. “And I pay you a substantial rent for that space. But I wouldn’t have moved here if I’d known the cost also included pushing out lifelong residents.”

“That’s a convenient moral position to take after the fact,” Julie shot back, her patience wearing thin. “What would you have me do now? Return the old buildings back to their original state? Should I close the bistro, the boutiques, the coffee shop? Tell the tourists to go elsewhere? Because that’s the alternative. Without investment, this town would be gasping for breath, like so many other dying towns that haven’t harnessed the potential of the GAP.”

The air between them was thick with tension.

Julie took another sip of wine, feeling a headache forming at her temples. She genuinely believed in what she was doing—revitalizing her hometown, creating opportunity in the place of stagnation. Why couldn’t people like Rory see beyond the immediate disruption to the long-term good?

When Rory remained silent, Julie tried again in a gentler tone. “Look, I grew up in Union Hill. I left for college and stayed away for twenty years because there was nothing to come back to. I’m trying to change that. To create a place where people want to live, work, and visit. Is that really so terrible?”

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