The president, a square-faced, silver-haired village lifer with a brusque manner and a permanent tan, cleared his throat. “Moving on to the matter of the planned bridle path extension. As this matter was previously approved by the equestrian commission and the plan commission, and additional public comment was taken during a previous meeting of the board of appeals, we move again to a vote to approve the recommendation made by that body.”
Theresa stood up suddenly. “Mr. President, I respectfully would like to inform the board that a vote to approve the connector will be met with legal action by my husband and myself. We believe the process has not been fair and transparent and that Holly Wright has unduly influenced the board of appeals recommendation. We will sue.”
Holly was utterly flabbergasted. “Everyone who spoke at that meeting did so voluntarily.”
“Excuse me,” said the board president. “The floor is not open for comment.”
“I’m done,” said Theresa, sitting down and surveying the room with a prim smile.
There was confusion on the dais as board members covered their microphones and leaned back to confer about this bombshell. Theresa’s statement may have been against the rules, but they had clearly heard it and were unsure how to proceed.
Holly stood up. “Please speak into your microphones. We have a right to hear the discussion, as this is a public meeting, not an executive session.”
They didn’t react immediately. One of the board members was whispering heatedly while the others listened with concerned expressions. With a sinking feeling, Holly knew the mere threat of legal action had intimidated the budget-conscious board, who wouldn’t want to spend village money defending even a frivolous lawsuit.
“Call the vote, please,” said Holly, remaining on her feet.
Reluctantly, the trustees uncovered their microphones and fell silent, exchanging wary looks.
“There has been a motion to postpone the vote,” said the president with uncharacteristic uncertainty.
“I think you owe it to us to vote,” insisted Holly, expecting to be shushed any minute.
The president looked at Holly, then at Theresa, thought for a moment, and then gave a weary shrug. “We’ll take a voice vote. Please say yea or nay.”
“Yea.”
“Yea.”
“Nay.”
“I abstain,” said the most worried-seeming board member.
“I abstain also,” echoed another.
“Abstain.”
The board president, who held the final vote, surveyed the room. If he voted yes, Holly would win. If he voted no, there would be a tie and a stalemate of unknown duration. What he actually did was something Holly had failed to imagine.
“I, too, abstain from voting,” he pronounced. “Lacking four votes, we have failed to reach a quorum, and the matter must be considered unresolved. The board will revisit this at a future time.”
She was out of her seat and in the aisle, head down to avoid eye contact with Theresa, before the gavel banged. Pushing through the outer doors, she stumbled to her car and climbed inside. She started the engine to power the heat but left the transmission in park.
Pulled out her phone. Punched autodial.
Heard his voice at the other end.
“Am I about to hear the sound of a champagne cork popping?” he asked.
“Two votes in favor, one vote against, four abstaining,” she said tersely.
A brief silence, then: “What the hell?”
“Just when they were about to vote, Theresa stood up and threatened to sue the village.”
“She can’t do that,” Brian said, anger coloring his voice.
“She was out of order, but it’s not like they could unhear it. The board members shit themselves—well, five of them, anyway. I can’t imagine they’ll call a vote again until after the next elections.”
“What did Jack say?” asked Brian finally.
“I haven’t told him yet.”
They were both quiet for a moment. Across the parking lot, Holly watched as a few people left the village hall and made their way to their cars.
“Well, I’m glad you called me, then.”
“About that night . . . I’m sorry we haven’t been able to talk about it more,” she said. “I’m sorry if I was abrupt. You and I have a lot in common, and it makes me nervous.”
“I’m glad you’re nervous,” he told her. “I am, too.”
“But that doesn’t mean—”
“It just means we both want to be in each other’s lives.”
“Yes, I suppose it does,” she said.
Chapter Sixteen
JESSICA AND LARK
Are you agile enough to be in two places at once?
—“How I Lied about My Name and Discovered My Truth,” a TED Talk by Jon M. Wright
“Give me your hand,” Jon said to Jessica.
“I think I’d better hold on to the handrail,” she told him as they approached the metal landing.
“Trust me.”
“I’m ninety-four stories above the sidewalk, about to climb onto a glass contraption that’s going to hang me off the side of the building. Trust is about all I’ve got right now.”
“The glass in question is almost as strong as this steel,” Jon said, thumping a nearby pillar on the John Hancock tower’s observation deck. “If you’re going to play tourist in your new hometown, you have to check one of our iconic skyscrapers off your list.”
“If you say so,” she said, smiling so Jon would know that despite her fear of heights, she was enjoying the weekend staycation he’d kicked off yesterday afternoon with a delightfully unexpected email.
Jessica,
By all accounts you’ve been working your ass off since arriving at Cancura and have barely gotten to see anything the Windy City has to offer. As your designated greeter and tour guide, I plan to rectify this unfortunate situation starting tonight. You are to meet me at Lou Malnati’s on Randolph Street at six o’clock to sample Chicago’s famous deep-dish pizza. Your weekend will feature attractions and activities including, but not limited to, riding the Ferris wheel on Navy Pier, meeting Máximo the
