Page 51 of Burning Hearts
Applause came in. I stepped back and let my heart go back to work, slowly returning to its normal rate.
“For Signal House,” Beau said, “we have Ellis Langford.”
Ellis walked out, his shoulders relaxed as if he didn’t need the room to like him.
And that’s how people decide to.
“Signal House wants a Main Street voice booth,” he said. “Glass, sound-treated, and easily accessible. Thirty seats forThe Town Talk-style panels that amplify Riverfield without bogging it down. Lights that flatter and don’t scorch you. And we’ll leave the Commons cleaner than we found it.”
Ellis didn’t look at me, but at the same time, he did. One clean pass across the front row that clipped me. The crowd clapped.
Wick & Wax went last. They were cheerful, and LED-correct.
Beau introduced the five-member board. The bank president, Wyatt the Fire Marshal, a preservation chair with a lethal brooch, a small business representative with money-counting eyes, and the city finance director. He lifted the peach basket like an heirloom.
“In their hands each judge has a card indicating their choice. Now we’ll show our hands at the same time. On three! One, two, three.”
Hands went up, and it was a clean victory for Brickyard Brewery.
The room did a perfect second of quiet then Station 1 roared. #TeamBrew flashed, and #TeamSignal responded with real applause and cheers to, “Make us famous anyway!”
I didn’t grin, but I couldn’t stop the corners of my mouth from turning up slightly.
Relief lifted and my shoulders finally relaxed.
Tansy appeared at the lip of the stage in a smile built for photographers. “What a triumph for?—”
“Riverfield,” Miss Pearl said, stepping in with a hostess smile. “Riverfield did this tonight, and our board did that, too. Our safety did that!”
Miss Pearl paused for a moment, glancing at Tansy, obviously trying to make room for grace. “And… the Langfords are kind to host.”
Tansy’s shine never cracked.
Beck’s quiet exhale off stage left could’ve cooled the room. My co-investors rushed over and wrapped their arms around me, simultaneously cheering and also trying not to cry.
All of our lives had just been rocketed forward with a million-dollar cash injection and a free three-year lease. Their dreams were coming true in real time, just like mine.
Beau reeled it back with a wink. “Congratulations, Brickyard. Cade, a word?”
I kept it spare, microphone near my lips. “Thank you to the board and to Riverfield. We’ll follow every rule we’ve asked you to follow this week. A big thank you to Deputy Fire Marshal Wyatt Kerr for independent inspections. We promise we’ll be good neighbors, and we’ll be quiet after ten.”
Applause filled the room, and smiles spread across everyone’s face, even most of the people rooting for the other contenders.
A moment later, I was backstage, where the noise thinned down to just the sounds of people. Two photos, a flash in my eyes, several handshakes. And the weight of a bank folder landing in my hands with math that made the terms clear: forty/forty/twenty escrow.
The three-year lease term in the Langford-owned Main Street building started immediately.
Beck swooped in and ushered me through press. He gave me two minutes to talk to each outlet, and I tried my best to smile and offer sound bites that the public would be interested in. I didn’t want to oversell it since we’d already won the prize, but I wanted coverage that would make Brickyard look good.
After the last social media influencer asked her final question, Beck pointed me in a different direction.
“Cade,” Ellis said.
He’d been within arm’s reach the entire time. Night hadn’t blurred him; it had only brought him into focus. He held his hand out, and I took it. We shook for a professional five seconds, then let it run on to a sixth we both pretended not to notice.
His palm was warm. Mine stayed there.
“Congratulations,” he said, his voice low enough to almost disappear under the noise of the room. “You earned it.”
