Everybody Knows (Sunnyside #1) (9 page)

All heads turned to Mr.
Slick. His eyes darted right and left, and then he shrugged. “The building was
closed. Why did he think we’d need him to continue to clean?”

“We agreed we wanted him to check on the place
periodically,” Zach said. “Wasn’t that made clear?”

“There wasn’t any money for that,” Nelson
countered.

“A small monthly payment would have been a better use
of funds than this renovation we’ll have to pay for now,” Mick said. “I’m
waiting on Jimbo’s report about this situation, and I’ll ask him about the
patrols before the day is out.”

“Are you sure you’re not exaggerating about all
this, Miss Simmons?” Nelson had the audacity to ask.

“She’s not.” Zach leaned forward and propped his
elbows on the table. “I saw the evidence myself, and I was the one who made
calls for volunteers to help clean up the mess this morning. The building
should have never been allowed to fall into its current state of disrepair or
the basic cleanup should have occurred before Har”—he cut himself off and
cleared his throat—“Miss Simmons arrived. This will require more money than
previously planned as well as delay the reopening.”

“Bert and I went by there this morning, too,” Mick
said. “It’s pretty bad.”

“I’ll run over and see it for myself this
afternoon. But much as I respectfully disagree with Nelson about everything
else, he’s right about one thing. There’s no money in the budget for this,”
Barbara Gentry stated. “The expenses will have to come out of the grant’s
budget, not the town’s.”

“I looked at the library’s insurance policy. Most
of the damages will be covered by that. Dr. Novak and I took a lot of pictures
last night, and Sheriff Bowman took more for his report before we started any
of the cleanup.” Harper glanced down to consult her notes.

“I’m not sure what exclusions there are on the
library,” Daniel Asher said. “I’ll look over the policy and send an adjuster
over to the library this afternoon.”

“Thank you, Daniel,” Harper said. “I have a copy
of the policy in my files, too. I plan to update Andrew Berkman later today.
Since one of the requirements of the grant was for the building to remain in
the same condition it was in at the time the grant was bestowed, he may choose
to reconsider.”

Shock waves rippled through the room. By all
rights, Andrew could indeed cancel the whole project. From their discussion the
night before, Harper knew that wasn’t his intention. No point in letting this
negligent board off the hook so easily, though.

“Although the condition of the library is less
sound than we were led to believe, I’ll recommend that we follow through on the
original plans and immediately request bids on the renovation from reputable
construction companies.”

“It won’t be necessary for you to worry about
that, Miss Simmons,” Mr. Slick piped up. “I’ve already received an acceptable
bid from Built-Rite Construction, a local company often used for town projects.
I’m submitting the bid to the council today for approval.”

Visions of the slimy builder from this morning
flashed through her mind. “Is Build-Rite Construction owned by Hugh McMahon,
Mr. Whitherford?”

“It is.” Sweat beaded his forehead in the
air-conditioned room.

“Are you and Mr. McMahon related?” She asked the
question on a hunch.

“He’s my cousin,” he admitted since she was
probably the only one in the room who wasn’t aware of the relationship. “What
does that have to do with anything? It’s still a reputable company and bid.”

“I’m sure it is.” Harper chalked up another strike
against the man. “And using local companies on the project is certainly a
desirable goal. But the terms of the grant indicate we must receive bids from
three to five local sources recommended by the council. If three to five bids
aren’t forthcoming from local companies, I can request bids from outside the
county. And the ultimate decision of who to hire is mine.”

Nelson began sputtering. “You’re sure trying to
throw your weight around in a hurry, aren’t you?”

“Not at all, but I have read all the fine print of
the grant, and I intend to see that those terms will be followed.”

“I think we run things a little more loosely than
that around here, Miss Simmons.”

“Not this time. Not with Andrew Berkman’s money.”

“Our way works just fine.” Nelson’s blustery face
turned red and puffy.

“Does it, Mr. Whitherford? When did you say you
received the bid?”

“Last week.”

“May I see it?”

Mick Willoughby reached for the document before
Nelson could refuse. He flipped through it briefly then passed it to Harper.

She made some umhumm-ing sounds as she looked it
over. “Very thorough. It includes all the major condition issues, but how did
he know what all of them were, and when did he get in to prepare this estimate?
Wouldn’t someone from the council have had to accompany him? If Mr. McMahon
knew the condition of the building, why didn’t he alert you about it before
today?”

All the council members except for Zach looked at
Harper like she’d just stepped in a big pile of dog-do that stunk to high
heaven. Nelson squirmed, and his face looked so red that Harper thought the top
of his head might blow off. Bert Marshall coughed behind his hand, leaving
Harper to wonder if he was cover a laugh or an objection. Mick, Malcolm,
Daniel, and Barbara all looked like they’d just been fed rancid chicken. Zach
gave her a nod of approval.

“I’ll have a discussion with Hugh this afternoon,
right after my chat with the sheriff,” the Mayor stated. “We’ll get to the
bottom of this immediately. Meanwhile, the town clerk will post requests for
estimates from other builders and contractors. You may make a recommendation
for your first choice, Miss Simmons, but the council will have the final
approval.” He banged his gavel for emphasis. “I’ve read the conditions of the
grant as well, you see.”

Okay, score
one for the mayor
. Good thing Harper had made her point about at least one
member of the council playing favorites, because she had definitely lost ground
in her campaign for Best-Liked Newcomer.

The rest of the meeting didn’t involve her, but
this was her new home, and the concerns of the town were her concerns. So she
tried to listen and take an interest in local issues. Which would have been
easier to do if her eyes hadn’t been drawn to Zach every five-point-two
seconds. Having him in the same room wreaked havoc with her concentration and
her heart rate.

Before Mick got to the four townspeople with
issues to air, he asked Zach about the boys from the car wreck.

He looked up from a text on his phone. “I’m
getting an update now. Joe and Tommy are doing better. I may be able to release
them in a day or two. Jason’s condition has worsened. I’ve got a call in to a
specialist in St. Louis for a consultation at four.”

“Those two families are going to need some help
with the hospital bills,” Mick said. “What can we do?”

“Is it too late to set up a booth at the
festival?” Bert asked. “I’ll donate a car or something to raffle off. God knows
nothing is selling. Might as well get a tax write off for a charitable
donation.”

“That would be mighty generous.” Mick turned to
his daughter. “See if we can’t get a booth put together in time. If not, maybe
we can have a table outside the Sheriff’s Office or get someone to pass around
a bucket.”

“Hank offered to help,” Zach said. “Once you know
what you want to do, he’ll spearhead any task you propose.”

“I’ll get in touch with him this afternoon. Now,
who’s first?” The Mayor perused the list of requests. “Martha, it looks like
you’re up. What can we do for you?”

Martha asked the board to consider putting in a
stop sign up on Slaughter’s Bend. The accident the night before wasn’t the
first wreck that had happened there—all eyes turned to Zach and he straightened
in his seat—and it wouldn’t be the last unless a traffic sign or flashing light
was installed at the intersection.

“Teenagers like to speed and drag race, and the
curve makes it exciting. If there was a stop sign or a traffic light, they’d be
forced to put on the brakes.”

Mick and Malcolm nodded along with her.

“Only if Jimbo’s able to put someone in place to
enforce it,” Bert said. “Kids will be kids, and they’ll do what they aren’t
supposed to, no matter what we do to try to stop them.”

“True, but we need to make an effort,” Barbara
said. “How many accidents have there been at that spot in the last ten or
fifteen years? More than there should have been.” She paused while a look of
chagrin passed over her face. “Sorry, Zach.”

He waved away the apology. “I’m in complete
agreement.”

“We don’t have jurisdiction over county roads,”
she continued, “but we can make a recommendation. If everyone agrees, I move
that the mayor drafts a proposal this afternoon.”

“Hang on a second,” Daniel said. “This might be a
good time to get one of those traffic cameras that catch speeders and people
who run stop signs and traffic lights and such. With the number of fatalities
that have occurred there, the state or county might agree to pay for that.”

“Good idea,” Bert agreed. “Let’s see about getting
some stop signs in the area first and then propose getting traffic cameras.”

The council unanimously agreed and quickly
dispatched the issues of a broken streetlight, a property dispute, and Sal
Miller’s cow that kept getting loose and stopping traffic by the Presbyterian
Church.

“I wouldn’t mind,” the complainer, identified as
Neil Sorensen, said, “but it’s always on Sunday mornings when there’s already
too dang much traffic.”

“We’ll send someone out to talk to Sal about the
cow. Probably Zach. He’ll contact you after that. Any other business? Nothing
new about the Fourth of July celebration?”

Without further ado, he banged the gavel. “Meeting
adjourned. Let’s go have lunch.”

After the meeting, Barbara, Bert, and Daniel gathered
their things and walked out with Neil Sorensen. Nelson slinked out as fast as
he could. Malcolm took his time getting to his feet and steadying himself on
his crutches even with Zach’s assistance.

Mick approached Harper. “I’ll lead the way to my
offices. They’re just across the street, but I figure you being new in town and
all...”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Simmons,”
Malcolm interrupted as he maneuvered his way past. “I’m going to pass on the
luncheon, Mick. It’s been more wearing than I expected to drag this cast around
this morning, and I’m about wore down.”

Harper took his arm as he seemed about to topple
over. “It was my pleasure to meet you, too, Mr. Newcomb. Thank you for coming
out to today’s meeting even though you should probably be somewhere with your
leg propped up.”

“All part of my civic duty.” He rested his weight
on one crutch while running his hand through his hair. “But lunch is a little
beyond me today.”

“Oh, I understand. Do you need help getting home?”

“No, I’ve got it. If Zach will help me outside,
the Mrs. is picking me up out front.”

“Ready when you are.” Zach held the door for
Cassie, Malcolm, Mick, and Harper.

When she passed by the doctor, he smiled down at
her. Harper grinned back, so grateful he’d been there for her during the long,
intense meeting.

If he hadn’t been in the room, she would have felt
like David facing down a panel of Goliaths. Five physically wimpy Goliaths in
ill-fitting clothes plus Bert Marshall, sure, but she would have been vastly
out-numbered.

And despite his weariness, Zach smelled delicious.
Always a plus. She breathed in his scent. Natural maleness, sunshine, and a hit
of citrus in his aftershave. Yum.

They moved into the corridor, creeping along at
Malcolm’s laborious pace. When they reached the exterior door, Cassie said,
“I’ll help Malcolm from here, Zach. You and Miss Simmons can go on with Daddy
to the office.”

“Is this luncheon going to be in the mayor’s
office, Mr. Willoughby?” Harper asked as they cut across the courthouse lawn.

“No, not today. When I’m not the mayor, I’m an
attorney,” he said. “I still keep law offices here on the town square even
though business is so bad. I’ve cut my hours to almost nothing. People just
don’t have the money to hire an attorney, and when they do, half the time they
end up wanting to pay me in produce or poultry. The other half, I end up doling
out free legal advice. Paying clients are few and far between, unfortunately.”

Harper glanced at Zach. “I’ve heard that’s a
common problem in small towns.”

“My father and grandfather were attorneys before
me and established this law office a long time ago.” He looked over the
building with no small amount of pride before ushering them inside.

A tidy, pudgy middle-aged woman in a ruffled white
blouse and dark skirt perched in a chair behind a dark oak reception desk. With
a long nose and cascade of curls sprouting out of the top of her head, the
woman reminded Harper of an efficient little bird overseeing her nest.

The small, well-appointed room had an oriental rug
and touches of old-world elegance. A tad shabby but regal.

“It’s a little fancy for my taste and the hard
economic times,” Mick admitted. “I’d give the place up, but we own the
building. It’s not like there’s anybody lined up to rent it or buy it, so we
continue on as we have for the last fifty years or so. My wife, daughter, and
Trudy here seemed to think this luncheon was a good occasion for dusting off
the conference table and putting the meeting room to good use. Zach, you know
the way. Take Harper on back while I check my messages.”

“What did you think of your first council
meeting?” Zach ushered Harper down the hall with a warm hand on the small of
her back.

Welcoming the contact, she resisted the urge to
press against him. “I felt like an intruder. But some things had to be said, so
I said them.”

His lips twitched like he might be biting back a
smile. “It could’ve been worse.”

“Ri-ight.” Stringing out the word, she gazed up at
him quizzically. “How?”

“You could have forgotten to change your clothes.”

They both looked down at her more
professional-looking outfit, remembering her exercise clothes from earlier in
the day.

“This outfit’s definitely better than what I had
on before.”

Tilting his head, he leaned in. “Define ‘better’.”

“More professional?”

“Depends on the profession.”

She drew herself up to object, but he added,
“Librarian versus aerobics instructor.”

“The clothing of an aerobics instructor was more
appropriate this morning than that of a librarian.”

“No one at the worksite disagreed.”

“But there was some ogling.”

He had been one of the chief oglers. but in a way
that seemed more appreciative than sleazy. Somehow, the distinction made it
more acceptable to Harper. “Bound to be, no matter what you wear.”

“Really?” In Chicago, she never drew much
attention. No matter how she was dressed, there was always someone more
fashionable, more attractive, more outrageous standing in the same vicinity.
Definitely plenty for her to learn about life in a small town. “So maybe
tomorrow something less...”

“Form-fitting?”

“Gotcha.” She never thought her form was anything
to shout about it, but maybe her exact measurements were the gold standard here
in Sunnyside, Illinois. The standard to which all other figures were compared.

“Besides that, the meeting still could have gone
worse.”

“How so?”

“Um.” He twisted his lips, like he was trying to
think of a good way to deliver bad news, but then he plunged ahead. “You could
have told them you were a vegetarian.”

She scoffed, thinking he was teasing. “How would
that have made things worse?”

He opened a door to the conference room then
nodded toward the foil-covered containers in the center of the table. “We’re
having lasagna for lunch.”

“Oh, criminy.” She was about to insult her hosts by
rejecting the meal they’d arranged especially for her. “That
is
worse. Not spinach lasagna, I guess?”

“Catered by Lenore at The Sunnyside Up. What do
you think?”

“Can I suddenly develop a food allergy to tomato
or something? Will they mock me for just eating salad and bread?”

“Just bread.” He paused and delivered the punch
line. “Unless you’re all right with picking the bacon bits out of the salad.”

Her stomach suddenly grumbled, signally how hungry
she was. Not much for breakfast, and now, after laboring in the hot library all
morning, no lunch either. But, okay, she would simply be gracious about the
invitation, eat a dinner roll—
with butter
since that was all she was having!—and spread the rest of the food around on
her plate. Then she would plead pressing issues at the library and leave as
quickly as she could. She was considering ducking into a local restaurant on
the way back when Zach handed her the brown paper bag she’d noticed earlier.

“I’ve got you covered, and I’ll announce the news
about the vegetarian thing. They’re not going to like it, but for today anyway,
they might try to be polite since you’re kind of like company.”

“Oh, my God, thank you for this.” She dipped her
hand into the bag, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. “But I’ll tell them about
the ‘vegetarian-thing’ myself.” His care package contained a wrapped bagel,
carrot sticks, and an apple.

“Pimento cheese.” He nodded at sandwich. “I knew
you’d be starving after all the heavy lifting you’ve been doing this morning. I
hope you like it.”

Exhausted, emotionally drained from uprooting her
life, and running into nothing but frowns, brick walls, destruction, and
setbacks for the past two days, Harper felt a little silly that the sight of a
simple bagel sandwich had her blinking back tears. Unable to recall if she’d
ever eaten pimento cheese before, she smiled up at him as the rest of the
council joined them in the conference room.

“It’s my favorite.”