“Fine, you’re right. But I’m taking it now.”
“Thank you,” he repeated.
“You’re welcome.” He was right. Once I’d started dating Sullivan, it had been his side I’d taken, not Cam’s. The dynamic shifted, as anyone would have expected.
A few more tense moments passed before the council resumed their seats. My fingernails carved half-moons in my palms as I prayed that just once they’d break the rigid mold of their traditions. I didn’t even care if it was greed that moved them as long as they moved.
“Camden, the council has agreed to consider your summer plan. We’ll need detailed plans on both the Rose Rowan Mine and the restoration of the Rose Rowan building by the March twenty-ninth meeting, so you have two weeks. As long as everything is in order, I don’t see why you can’t begin working on the mine immediately.” Walter grinned.
My hands covered my mouth as shock and joy took turns overwhelming me. For the first time in my memory, the town of Alba cheered for Camden Daniels.
Reopening the mine implied that he was home for good, and while that sent my heart skipping, it also caused my smile to falter. I could only hide my feelings from Cam for so long, and something told me that working with him was only going to hasten the inevitable.
Chapter Nine
Camden
“It’s seen better days.”
I rose from where I was inspecting the pilings on the interior and turned around to see my brother standing in the doorway of the Rose Rowan building. There were only about twenty minutes until Willow would walk into whatever shit storm my brother was here to deliver.
“That could pretty much be the town motto of Alba,” I replied.
“And yet here you are, riding in like some white knight, ready to save us all.” He folded his arms over his chest but still gave me a million-dollar smile.
“Hardly.” The snow crunched beneath my boots as I crossed the fifteen feet to where he stood. “The town is doing just fine. Opening the mine might give it a boost, but that’s it. Honestly, I’m shocked you didn’t think of it first.”
His lips pursed before smoothing. “I knew there was zero chance in hell I was going to get you back here, let alone get you to sign over your half of the mining company. Not to mention find an engineer willing to take it on. That place is a liability nightmare.”
More than half of the mining company. Not that I’d say it, of course. He didn’t need salt rubbed into an openly raw wound.
“I’m not asking you to sign over your portion. But getting on board with this would go a long way, don’t you think? At least politically for you.”
“Is that what you’re looking for? Political clout? Want to run for office now? Cam, you’ve been home all of a minute, and suddenly you know best when it comes to Dad, the mine, the needs of the town. What are you doing?”
“The best I can to keep the promise we made.”
“What are you talking about?” His hands waved with every word.
“We told Dad he could die in that house. Don’t give me that look. We did.” I tucked my hands into my pockets to ward off the cold.
“We were kids,” he said slowly. “Mom had just died. You were what? Twelve?”
“And you were fourteen,” I reminded him.
“And Dad was drunk!” Xander shouted, then took a deep breath, his face turning left, then right, no doubt checking to see if his outburst had been overheard. Not that anyone was listening. This section of Main Street had at least six abandoned buildings that had yet to be restored, and none of the restored buildings was open yet.
“Don’t worry—we’re alone out here. You don’t have to be all shiny perfect. Just be real. Yes, Dad was drunk, but we weren’t. He was heartbroken and said that he was going to die in that house, just like she had. And then he turned to us and said, ‘You promise me that when I’m old, I can die in this house.’ And you promised.”
“We didn’t know he’d get early-onset Alzheimer’s! We didn’t know that Sullivan would die or that you wouldn’t come home for ten years. Stuff changes, Cam. What the hell does any of this have to do with the mine? Because you and I both know you couldn’t give a shit about what happens in Alba.”
I took in the roofless building I stood in, from the stacked-timber walls to the glass panels on the north wall that had miraculously survived the last 140 years.
“This is my home. I absolutely care about what happens here. And yeah, I was gone for ten years, and you can judge me for that. I’m used to it. We didn’t know what would happen to Dad or to Mom, or to Sully, for that matter. But it’s in our capability to keep Dad in his house. And don’t tell me it’s too expensive. We both know Dad can afford at-home care.”
“You want me to strip Dad’s accounts to nothing?” Xander wavered between incredulous and mad. “You realize that’s it, right? When he dies, all we have are the mining company and the land. That’s it. Dad isn’t exactly up to going back to work with the Forest Service.”
“It’s his money. If home care strips his accounts to zero, then we’ll just have to figure it out. Please don’t tell me that your argument for putting him in a home is about preserving your inheritance.” The words tasted bitter in my mouth.
“He’s only fifty-eight. You don’t know how many years we’d be signing up for, but he sure as hell doesn’t have another thirty years of at-home care in his accounts, Cam. And as for the inheritance? That’s easy for you to say. You came home to a house that’s already yours. Land that’s yours. This building that’s yours. You have fifty-five percent of the mining company already and a voting membership in the Historical Society.”
“You sit on the damned council!” I snapped. “Do you honestly care if I vote?”
“I don’t sit there. Dad does. I only have his seat because he’s incapacitated, and you know it. And when he dies, what then?”
“Are you seriously asking me about his seat?” Flames licked up through my lungs, tickling my tongue to say something reckless, to breathe the fire that Xander knew I was capable of. “Do you think I give a shit about who sits on the council?”
“I didn’t think you cared about the company or the mine, yet here you are.” He gestured to the doorframe with his leather-gloved hands.
“I’m only in this building because I have to get a plan to the council by next week. That’s the only way to reopen the mine!” This was a means to an end.
“Why is that so important to you?”
“Because it will pay for Dad’s care if you won’t!” I shouted, pointing directly at him.