Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
MK snorted. “Wow, your pessimistic outlook is bordering on conspiracy theory territory. If you’re so against the new ownership, why work for them?”
“Where else would we go? They pay well, the benefits are great, and the mill is really nice. We’re like lambs being fattened up before a slaughter. They want us fat and happy, eyes on the shiny coin so we won’t notice when Wood Hollow is unrecognizable. It’s gonna happen, man. It’s gonna happen.”
I bit into my ice cream cone as I considered my reply. I wished I had my grandmother’s quick wit and claws. If we were on the ice, I’d know what to do without thinking twice.
See, this was tricky ’cause in a way, Niall and Micah were right.
Everything they said about the Cunninghams was basically true. Hank’s dad had bought the mill for profit. It was a business move, plain and simple. Hank was an ambassador, the friendly face sent to assure residents they came in peace. The difference was that I believed Hank in spite of the fact that he’d asked for my help to do exactly what my friends were accusing him of.
And I’d agreed…for sex.
That sounded creepy, like I’d been complicit in selling out my town, and that wasn’t true. What happened between Hank and me was personal. It had nothing to do with Elmwood or Wood Hollow.
Or maybe that was delusional thinking.
Maybe I’d unintentionally put myself in the middle of this debate.
Fuck.
Diplomacy wasn’t my thing, but I had to speak up.
“Change can be good,” I said after a long moment. “New blood, new ideas, new growth. Maybe it doesn’t always go smoothly, but if you want to get real…ask yourself how we build a high school or invite hundreds of kids and their families to spend their hard-earned dollars for hockey camp and not invest in our infrastructure? You can’t expect people to commute from fucking Rutland, for fuck’s sake. You can’t have it both ways. Something has to give. It doesn’t have to be the end of an era or of the forest. It can be a beginning.”
My friends stared at me in frozen silence for a beat, no doubt wondering why the guy who conserved words like a miser was suddenly giving speeches. For the enemy, no less.
“You’re sipping some interesting Kool-Aid, bro. But hey, I could be wrong.” Niall fixed me with a harsh look. “I don’t think I am. I think they’ll hire outside of our area and the cowboy will fuck off back to Denver at the end of summer or fall at the latest. He’s not one of us. He’s pretending to be to get what he wants. If he were staying for good, that would be different.”
I furrowed my brow. “How so?”
“It would mean he gave a fuck about this place.”
“Okay, enough about the mill.” MK slapped one hand on the table and squeezed my knee with the other. Maybe in solidarity, maybe in warning that this wasn’t a battle to be won over the dregs of ice cream on a hot summer night.
She guided conversation to camp news—the kids who’d lined up to get autographs from goalie legend Olaf Gustafson, the parents who’d cheered their son obnoxiously from the stands during a drill, and how much more boisterous this group seemed compared to the last one with kids trying to outskate, outscore, and out-BS each other.
The stories turned to our camp days when we’d thought we were immune to the pomp and circumstance of hosting famous athletes for a few weeks during summer. News flash: we weren’t. We’d been in awe of those players, tongue-tied at the idea of sharing the ice with them.
“That hasn’t changed,” I commented, gesturing to the long line outside of the ice cream shop. “I bet Mr. Weller makes more money this summer than ever. There’re two sides to every coin.”
Niall kicked my shin under the table and Micah gave a rude hand motion while everyone else snickered, reverting to adolescents who relied on silliness to get out of uncomfortable discussions. Fine by me. I’d made my point. I could figure out my part in this later. Right now, it kind of made my head hurt.
19
DENNY
“You were fierce back there.” MK linked her arm through mine as we strolled away from the ice cream shop. “It sounds like you’ve given the issue with the mill some thought.”
“Not really. I just know that Hank isn’t a bad guy.”
She pursed her lips, slowing her steps in front of the fountain. “No, he’s not.”
I watched her through hooded lashes, tuning out the kids splashing in the fountain.
The square in front of Town Hall was a summertime hangout spot where young parents let their offspring run wild and couples canoodled on benches. It wasn’t private or quiet, but no one cared. It was just nice to cool off outside after a scorching day.