Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 95264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
He reaches for a Styrofoam bowl without another word. Unusual for Todd, who thrives on chattiness.
“Have you ever thought of using something more environmentally friendly?”
“I’d have to increase costs.”
“I’m sure your customers wouldn’t mind paying an extra quarter if it saves the planet.”
“Cut the act, Justine.” He swirls the ladle around to collect a decent amount of meat. He knows I’ll complain otherwise. “I saw what you posted in that Polson Falls Facebook group.”
“All I did was share information about upcoming changes to Main Street with my fellow residents. I felt they had a right to know before a bulldozer shows up.” I wondered if Todd was a member. “Why? Have people said something to you about selling this place to a developer?” I ask innocently.
He huffs. “My regular customers are accusing me of betraying my late father and grandfather’s memories.”
“Ouch.”
“Donald Ackers told me he’d rather eat regurgitated dog feces than give me another penny of his money.”
Eww. My face pinches. “Points for creativity?”
“I never asked my dad to give me all this.” He waves his free hand around. “You know, I didn’t even want to be a butcher! Sure, I did all the training because he wanted me to, but I went to college for advertising. Had a job lined up and everything!”
“Really?” I can’t help the doubt in my voice, my attention darting to the eight-and-a-half-by-eleven sheet of paper tacked to the wall with Todd’s own messy handwriting in Sharpie, listing this week’s deli specials. Pastrami is spelled wrong. He never mentioned this career path in our daily chats.
“Figured he’d sell the shop when he was ready to retire and collect rent. Or sell the whole building and enjoy the money. I didn’t care! But next thing I know, I’m spending my days carving carcasses, chasing Bethany the cupcake lady for rent money, and refereeing fights between Yvonne and the renter above her over that bloody music.”
“Dawn’s music can be a bit much.”
“And now people are telling me I can’t sell what’s mine to sell? What am I supposed to do? Just give it away? Let it crumble? My dad wouldn’t like that either!” Bewilderment fills his face.
This frazzled version of Todd is new to me. A twinge of guilt stirs in my belly, but then I remember that the public’s reaction would be the same whether they found out now or later. “If you had gone about the sale differently, instead of trying to hide it, people wouldn’t be so mad. You completely blindsided your tenants.”
I visited the other stores on the block to glean whatever information I could. Bob from the CornerMart ranted for twenty minutes, waving the letter that stated the building was under new ownership and his lease would not be renewed once it expires on March 31. He’s run his convenience store from that location for thirty-four years. Yvonne, a small woman with wiry gray hair and horn-rimmed glasses who owns the sewing shop, was planning on closing at the end of this month and had given her notice, but she was still distraught at the idea of demolition. Bethany from the cupcakery wasn’t the least bit put out, but Todd never made her sign a lease. It didn’t take too much prodding to learn Garrett had dangled a check to compensate her for her move.
“As if that would have made a difference. And how was I gonna tell Ned, huh?” Todd throws a hand toward Murphy’s. “He was so happy when I told him I’d keep the shop going. I knew this would crush him. You don’t think I feel bad?” He picks up the Tribune. “And now this. I can only imagine how many more customers I’ll lose.”
I don’t have to ask what he’s talking about. The paper landed on Murphy’s doorstep an hour ago. Ned and I hovered over it, devouring the front-page spread about the sale of the building and the “rumored” plans, with the headline, “Polson Falls Likely Landmark Set To Be Demolished After Hush-Hush Deal.” Aside from the rundown of historical significance (using my library research), the Polson Falls Historical Committee is quoted often, naming and blaming Todd for trading his family legacy for dollar signs, local government for not protecting Main Street from greed, and Harrington Group for having the audacity to name a project Revive when what they’re doing is killing the town’s quaint character with a three-story blemish.
In a nutshell, the article is scathing, and the historical committee has confirmed they are working with the commissioner to have the building designated. They end it with a plea to the town’s citizens to call their councillors and the mayor’s office—the numbers are listed.
“I can’t believe you sicced the granny gang on me, Justine!”
“Wait, who?”
“Oh, come on. You know who I’m talking about.”
“The historical committee?”
“Shirley is the historical committee. She runs the damn thing. And half her minions live at Bonny Acres.”