Page 43 of All Mine

“Lewis will be here any minute to look at the preliminary sketches for the new building.”

“Why is that something he needs to know?” He opened a desk drawer.

“In order to let go of the land, he needs to know how it’s going to change the town. Most of these people do. I’ve found that they care a great deal about this place. And that’s the key to getting him to sell.”

The man smirked and rolled his eyes while continuing on the perusal of my office space. What grown man does that?

“Would you like to see the preliminary sketches of the building, and we can nail down more specifics while you’re here?” Most clients wanted to know more about the commercial complexes they commissioned.

“Yes, of course.”

“Right this way.”

He followed me to the conference room and gave the plans that I’d worked for hours on a cursory glance.

"As you can see," I said, directing his attention back to the board propped on an easel. "Most of the stores are East facing to capitalize on the lake view. But, let's split it into two buildings and have a courtyard in between, bringing a spot of nature and creating a space that people could use in a variety of ways."

"Looks good," Stephen said, retrieving a cell phone from his pocket and staring at the screen. "If you'll excuse me." He exited the room and moved toward the kitchenette and the back of the building.

I exhaled and leaned against the table, and waited. The front door opened, and I stepped out of the conference room to find Lewis. His thinning gray hair and flannel shirt stood in stark contrast to Stephen Wellington.

"Come on back. I was just showing my client the building plans. He's stepped out back for a call," I said as Lewis ambled toward me.

“I don’t want to take up too much of your time,” Lewis said.

“Nonsense. I want to make sure you’re comfortable with everything.”

He entered the room, and his attention went straight to the board. “My, my… that is a change,” he said, studying the front elevation.

“And there’s an option, that I believe my client will sign off on, to split the building right here,” I pointed, “and create a courtyard area.”

"That's a good idea cause you're moving from a lot of open grass to paving over it all, and I really don't think the tenants are going to like that. We have a fairly eco-conscious group."

“Good to know.” I rub the ache in my neck that I hadn’t been able to get rid of from sleeping on Lauren’s puny hide-a-bed mattress.

“That’s a really fancy-looking building. Are you sure the renters will be able to afford it?” Lewis studied the drawing again.

Ultimately, it would be up to the owner. I could make suggestions. “I think we can work something out.” But, if I didn’t close this sale, I’d get nothing. I’d be forced to move personal money to cover the business, and not take a salary until the construction business picks up.

Lewis walked around the table, staring at the preliminary blueprints for the inside of the development.

“What do you say? Are you ready to retire?”

“There are days when that’s appealing.” He grinned. “So where’d your client fella run off to?”

“Not sure,” I said, peering out the door back the way he’d walked. I followed in the general direction, but the kitchenette and rear room were empty. On my way through to the front of the building, a crowd had gathered outside. What was going on?

About thirty people stood around in front of my office. I opened the door and stepped out to boos and hisses. Some of them held handmade signs written in marker:No Sale. Tell the Outsiders No. No New Building. Say No to Town Destruction.Not the most creative bunch. But more people arrived by the minute. Is this why Stephen left? Shit.

"That's right, everyone, step right up and voice your opinion on selling our small town land to a big corporation," a woman's voice said into a megaphone. And I'd recognize that shrill voice anywhere. She's protesting me. After our night together, she's protesting me?

Seventeen

Camden

“Lauren,” I yelled, pushing my way through the angry mob crowding the sidewalk and blocking the street to find the small angry woman. I spotted her, clad in her bakery T-shirt, stretchy pants, and a pair of Chucks. She’s adorable, and momentarily I’m unsure if I want to kill her or kiss her. The debate raged through me as I wind my way through the crowd, and few people start to boo me.

“Go home,” some woman shouted at me as I passed, and I refrained from telling her where she could stick that sign.

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