I blinked. Surely I didn’t hear what I thought I did.
“Respectfully, Mrs. Powers, let me stop you there,” Dad interjected. “Only a voting member can propose a summer plan, and seeing as Art is happily still with us, the Daniels family only maintains one voting position in the Historical Society.”
“You have a summer plan?” I hissed at Cam, irrationally insulted that he hadn’t told me. Having a summer plan implied that he wasn’t just home…he really was staying. My heart stuttered, then raced.
Cam ignored me, but he gripped his folder tighter.
Every council member’s attention flickered between Dorothy and Cam in obvious, open shock.
“Respectfully,” Dorothy replied, saccharine sweet, “I’m well aware of our rules, Mr. Bradley. I’ve been a voting member for the last twenty-five years. If my memory serves me right, you’ve been in that seat for the past…seven?”
Dad’s mouth twisted, but he didn’t open it. Man, was I glad I didn’t live at home anymore, because he was going to be livid for days.
“Now, you’re right, of course,” Dorothy placated him, “but if you’ll take a look at these—” She nodded to Mom, who walked up to the dais with a folder and began handing a set of papers to each council member. “You’ll see that when Cal Daniels passed away, he left all of his estate to his nephew Camden. He didn’t split it between the Daniels boys. He chose Cam as his sole heir, which also transfers his membership seat.”
The council buzzed, covering their microphones so we couldn’t hear them. People blatantly turned around in their seats to gawk or glare at Cam.
“Milton?” Genevieve asked from her council seat.
Milton Sanders, Alba’s only practicing lawyer, seeing as Simon practiced in Buena Vista, stood and made his way to the podium. He ran his hand through his head of thick brown hair as he read over Dorothy’s documents.
“He hates me,” Cam muttered.
“That won’t matter. He’s the Historical Society’s lawyer,” I whispered, which earned me a glare from three of the women sitting ahead of us.
Mrs. Rhodes shook her head at me before turning back around.
Well, that was uncalled for.
“This is Alba. It matters,” Cam concluded.
My eyes met those aimed in Cam’s direction, staring down each of our townspeople until they looked away. He didn’t deserve this kind of treatment.
“Actually, this looks like the boy has a seat,” Milton answered.
The buzz in the room grew to a roar.
“We can’t leave voting memberships in our wills,” Dad countered.
“No, but section seven, paragraph three of our bylaws states that seats pass to our recognized familial heirs, and Cal’s will is worded such that it names Camden as his sole, recognized familial heir.” Milton shrugged.
“He knew what he was doing,” I whispered.
“Always did.” Cam kept his eyes locked on the council.
“Then, it’s not valid!” Genevieve squawked.
“Well, it seems Judge Bradley accepted the will as valid when Cal died, so…” Milton looked up at Dad, whose face now resembled a tomato. I wasn’t sure if it was in embarrassment or anger, but either way, the man was red.
“But he doesn’t meet the requirement,” Pat interjected from his council seat. “He has to have been a full-time resident of Alba for a year before he can exercise his membership.”
Thea crossed her arms. Pat was going to get an earful at home.
Were they all against him?
Heads around us nodded in agreement.
Guess so.
“That would normally be so, but paragraph five states that the residency stipulation is waived upon any return from military service, given that the member does not delay in asking for it.” Milton turned to look over the crowd. “Camden? Are you asking for the residency stipulation to be waived?”
“I am.” Cam stood, attracting every eye that hadn’t been able to see him before.
“Well, as much as I hate to say it, Camden Daniels qualifies for a voting membership seat,” Milton told the council. “We now stand at twenty-seven voting members and nine council members.”
“And what personal property does he list for inclusion of the historical district?” Xander asked.
My heart sank. Xander was actually speaking out against his brother? Even on our worst days, I’d never stand opposite Charity.
Cam didn’t show a single sign that he was surprised. He’d expected Xander’s lack of support?
“Come on up here, Cam,” Dorothy urged, waving him up.
Cam walked up the center aisle, his head high.
“This is the best Historical Society meeting I’ve been to in ages,” Thea remarked.
That earned a good glare from the three women ahead of us, but I noted that Mrs. Rhodes didn’t glare at her. She aimed that sour face right at me. “It’s not like he can claim the bunkhouse as his property, now, is it?” she remarked with a hiss. “You barely made it out of that fire alive yourself, Willow Bradley. I would think you’d know better.”
My jaw slackened as she turned around with a judgmental shake of her head.
“He didn’t—” I started, but Thea put her hand on my leg.
“Don’t bother. They’ll think what they want to anyway.”
“I’m glad you asked, brother,” Camden said into the microphone. “I am the owner of the Rose Rowan building on Main Street. Cal bought the property from the mining company and left it to me in that same will.”
If my muscles tensed any more, they were going to snap in half.
“Are you serious?” Xander asked as Dad smirked.
“I am,” Cam insisted. “And though it is not in any condition to—”
“There’s three feet of snow sitting inside that building right now, because it doesn’t have a roof,” Xander continued.
“Correct, and according to section two, paragraph four of our bylaws, an owner wishing to exercise his vote has two seasons to renovate his property to be considered for the benefit of the Historical Society but may use his status as a voting member immediately.”
“What would he want with it, anyway?” Mrs. Rhodes snapped.
“Probably wants to burn the place to the ground,” another woman answered. “That boy’s never cared about this town.” I didn’t bother to see who said it, not when it would have taken an act of God to look away from Cam.