“You understand you’ll need a restoration expert,” Dad fired into his microphone. “A Historical Society–approved expert.”
My scalp tingled. Oh God. I wasn’t going to have to say it, was I? Surely—
“Well, I’m certainly not volunteering to help him,” Genevieve added with her nose in the air. “You’ve done your fair share of damage to this town, Camden, and I’m not willing to lend my expertise so you can take down the Historical Society. We’re all that keeps Alba in business.”
A murmur of agreement went through the room.
Crap. I liked my uncomplicated little life. I liked designing logos and such for the Historical Society but not getting pulled in any deeper than I had time for. I liked my boundaries, and I had a feeling I was about to break them all for the boy I’d sworn I’d never give anything else to.
Except that reckless boy was now a man who appeared to be doing his best to prove that he’d changed to a town that didn’t want to let him.
“I think that settles it,” Dad said. “Doesn’t it, Foreman?”
Walter’s eyes were heavy as he looked at Cam. “I’m sorry, son, but unless you have a society-approved restoration specialist up your sleeve, I’m bound by the bylaws, even if certain members are just acting out of spite.”
Dad smirked.
It was cruel and ugly and sparked something within me too loud to ignore.
I found my feet, my notepad falling to the floor with a thud as indignation flooded my cheeks with heat.
“I’ll do it,” I blurted.
The noise level only increased, so I climbed up on my chair, put two fingers between my lips, and let loose a shrill whistle.
Silence followed, with a whole lot of people staring right at me.
“I said, I’ll do it!” Pretty sure everyone down to Buena Vista heard that one.
“Willow Bradley, you get down off that chair!” Dad bellowed.
I did, out of sheer habit. Then I sucked in a deep breath and headed for the aisle, walking down the ominous path to where Cam waited, watching me with a focus so intense, I nearly tripped.
“What are you doing?” he whispered once I reached him.
“You took a bullet for me, so I’m taking one for you. Now move over and let me.” I didn’t bother to mask my determination as I stared up at him. Who cared what the town thought or how angry my dad was going to be?
Just when I thought Cam wasn’t going to relent, he stepped to the side and then stood by mine as I walked up to the podium. My fingers shook as I lowered the microphone.
“I’ll be his restoration expert.” My voice was a lot steadier than my nerves, thank God. They already saw me as a child; the last thing I needed was to act like one, too.
“Willow, we know your heart is in the right place.” Genevieve’s voice dripped with sympathy. “After all, Camden is Sullivan’s brother, and I know you must feel obligated to help him on Sully’s behalf. But, honey, how on earth are you going to be a restoration expert? Don’t you draw things on the computer? That’s hardly historical, dear.”
My resolve hardened from steel to titanium.
“This isn’t about Sullivan. This is about Cam. More than that, it’s about doing the right thing. Cam has a right, and you’re trying to deny it out of sheer pettiness.” I shook my head in disgust. “I graduated last year from Rutgers, which is one of the top five art schools in the country,” I said, turning my focus to Walter. As foreman, he’d have the power to approve me.
“In graphic design,” Dad interjected. “Not the same thing.”
I thought of that little onyx rook on my desk. The knight I kept in my nightstand drawer. The other pieces I’d tucked away, all memories from the boy who stood next to me in a man’s body.
“I double majored.” I addressed Dad, who blanched. “Yes, I have a degree in graphic design, but I also hold one in Art Restoration and Conservation, specializing in the American West.” Because I’d known this day would come, eventually, where I’d have to step into Genevieve’s shoes if I wanted to ensure our town could survive.
I just figured that would happen in another twenty years, not twenty minutes. Genevieve clutched the arms of her chair like I might hop up there and unseat her from a throne I had zero interest in.
“And you’re just now telling me?” Dad seethed, despite the calm, collected tone of his voice. It wasn’t at the degree itself. He would have crowed his satisfaction had he been the one to introduce me into the role. He was pissed at the loss of control and my support of Cam.
Cam, who moved a few inches toward me, his arm brushing my shoulder and sending little currents of electricity through my veins.
“Dad, they said it as I walked across the stage at graduation. It was hardly a secret. Mom filmed it and everything.” Because he hadn’t been there, still holding a grudge because I’d had the nerve to deter from his plan.
The crowd murmured, but I kept my attention on Dad.
“I’m assuming you won’t have a problem with your own daughter lending her services to the Historical Society. It would hardly be charitable if I kept my mouth shut and let the town suffer for it.” Good thing I’d bought my house this year, or I’d probably be sleeping on Charity’s couch tonight. How quickly I disposed of all the goodwill I’d earned since coming home.
If he’d been a tomato before, he was now a giant maroon balloon, ready to pop.
“I’ll accept your expertise,” Walter declared, and my breath gushed in relief, my posture softening against Cam’s. “Camden, I’ll also accept the Rose Rowan Mining Company’s building as your historical building. Welcome to the society.”
“Now, his summer plan,” Dorothy leaned over me to say into the microphone, filling my nose with the scent of grape aerosol hairspray.
Battle won—now on to the war. Whatever it was.
“Cannot be put forth at this time.” Tim Hall’s gaze darted to my dad’s furious glare in my direction. “He’s a first-year—hell, first-day member. He can’t put forth a plan until his second year without a council member willing to sponsor his plan, of course. Rules are rules.”
“Certainly one of you will sponsor it.” Dorothy raised her eyebrows at the council. “Trust me: you want to know what he’s offering.”
I would have missed the subtle shake of Cam’s head at Dorothy if I hadn’t been watching his expression so closely.
Walter looked up and down the dais. As foreman, he couldn’t sponsor a plan, and I wasn’t sure what other support Cam could count on up there.