To Get Me To You: A Small Town Southern Romance (Wishful Romance Book 1) (25 page)

She gaged the level of interest and enthusiasm, scanning faces as she spoke. “We’re going to divide you into teams based on skill sets. Those with any sort of construction experience will be working with Mitch Campbell on things like external repairs and awning replacement. Another group will be pressure washing the sidewalks and building exteriors. Others will be on trash pick up. Others on painting, once the buildings dry from their washing. The gardeners among you will be working with Cam Crawford to get trees planted and new planter boxes installed and filled. On the front end, this is all about window dressing, making downtown appealing so people will want to stop in and stay a while. We want to get people
in the door
. And if, at the end of the day, we’ve still got time, we’ll revisit some of those individual businesses and see what we’re able to accomplish.”

“And how exactly are you going to prioritize those?” called a voice from the back. “Are you the person who will make the decision which businesses are important enough to move to the front of the line?”

Norah peered through the crowd, trying to find the speaker as several folks started nodding. She struggled to maintain a friendly face as she recognized Vick Burgess. Of course he’d show up trying to sow seeds of dissension when they were already low on workers.

“All the businesses will be addressed eventually. What gets dealt with today will depend upon how much time and man power is available once the main public spaces are complete.”

“But how will that be decided?”

She bit down on her temper as she noted more than a few people murmuring in agreement. They didn’t need his brand of bullshit today. She’d pulled these people together and they couldn’t afford to lose a single one. “Given our current turnout, the likelihood that we will make it past the public spaces today is highly unlikely. Speculation on what’s to be done next is a moot point until such a time as we know we have the opportunity to do additional work. Those business owners who are in the greatest hurry are free to come speak to me after work assignments have been passed out. We’ll see what we can work out.”

“Why don’t you just admit you’ve bitten off more than you can chew with this project of yours? It’s pretty cruel to get everybody’s hopes up and then renege on your promises.”

She was going to kill him. Surely nobody would blame her if he turned up floating in Hope Springs. Except it seemed a shame to taint the springs.

“Listen—” Before she could actually give voice to the insult all but choking to get out, someone laid on their car horn. Norah turned to see an aging Grand Cherokee turning onto Main Street. Behind it came a procession of other unfamiliar vehicles. As the Jeep pulled to the curb, a blonde head rose up out of the sun roof, and Norah began to smile.

“Sorry we’re late!” the girl called. “Last night’s formal ran a little later than expected and we had to make a stop to roust out the boys. We didn’t figure you’d mind if we brought some friends.”

“The more the merrier,” Norah shouted, leaping down from her post and crossing to the newcomer. Cam followed, close on her heels.

“Where should we park?”

“Tucker!” Norah called.

He bounded over, taking in the line of idling cars. “Yes’m?”

“Will you direct our volunteers over to Church Street? I’ve already cleared it with First Baptist and First Methodist to use their parking lots.”

The girl dropped back through the sun roof and opened the back passenger door, offering her seat to Tucker. “Hop on in.”

The Jeep pulled away from the curb and led the caravan around the green and off again. Behind her, the townsfolk stared as vehicle after vehicle rolled past.

“Who are all these people?” Cam stared in no little bit of awe.

Norah grinned up at him. “The cavalry.” She turned to introduce him to the bouncy blonde in a pink hoodie with Ole Miss stitched across the front and an anchor embroidered on one side. “Cam, I’d like you to meet Chelsea Patterson, junior marketing major at Ole Miss and current chair of public relations for Delta Gamma.”

Cam shook her hand and offered a confused smile. “I still don’t understand.”

“I was the DG PR chair back when I was at Ole Miss. Part of that job has to do with organizing philanthropic activities. At their heart, sororities are service organizations and members are expected to put in a certain number of service hours each semester. I went up to Oxford on Tuesday to meet with my old chapter to offer up this service opportunity.”

“We weren’t about to turn down a request for help from one of our most distinguished alumnae,” Chelsea said.

“So who exactly were these extras you recruited?”

“Oh, well Lacey—she’s our chapter president,” Chelsea added for Cam’s benefit, “—is dating the president of Sigma Chi, so she talked him into offering up his chapter for slave labor today.”

“Strong backs are more than welcome.”

Chelsea flashed a satisfied smile. “Aaaaand I called up our sister chapter at MSU to set up a little friendly competition. They should be here, right about…now.” She pointed to the opposite side of the green where a second string of vehicles led by a Toyota flying maroon and white window flags was coming to a stop at the opposite curb.

Norah swung an arm around the girl’s shoulders and sent up a prayer of thanks. “Chelsea, you’re a woman after my own heart.”

It took another half hour for everybody to park. They far outstripped the space available on Church Street. By the time everybody had walked back to the green, cars were lining the entire downtown area, including all the cross streets, and the crowd had swelled to nearly twice the force she’d originally expected.

Norah took up her bullhorn again. “Before we get started today, I’d like to offer up a warm Wishful welcome to the Delta Gammas from Ole Miss!” The girls cheered. “The Sigma Chis from Ole Miss!” The guys hooted and shouted. “And the Delta Gammas from Mississippi State!” The girls hollered and clapped. “I’d like to thank you all so much for coming. For those of you who don’t know, my name is Norah Burke, and I’m your de facto general for the day. Now that the remainder of our army has arrived, here’s our revised plan.”

Norah took great pleasure in the sour expression on Vick’s face as she laid out the full scope of her vision. She took even more in the infectious enthusiasm of her cavalry as it spread to the locals.

“Before you leave today, each of you should stop by and see Richard Patton to give your name and T-shirt size. Richard wave for everybody.” The wiry, balding owner of the print shop lifted a hand. “You’ll be getting a free commemorative shirt for your efforts! And now I’m going to turn you over to Molly Montgomery, who will divide you into groups.” Norah stepped down and handed off the bullhorn.

Cam fell into step with her as she circled around the crowd. “Not to be a buzz kill, but who’s going to pay for all those shirts?”

“I intend to sweet talk all the local businesses who are getting makeovers today into donating toward the effort. Their logos will go on the shirt. That’s two hundred and fifty walking advertisements out there, to go along with the free labor. That’s what you call a good investment. We’re going to pull this off in spades. Vick can just stick that in his pipe and smoke it.”

~*~

It got worse before it got better. Old awnings came down, old paint was knocked off with the dirt when many of the buildings were washed, and more than one downtown business was in total chaos, filled with bodies shifting displays, cleaning, rearranging stock. Cam hoped like hell none of their volunteers decided to employ the five-finger discount.

Norah caught him staring in horror at all the furniture being hauled out of Lickety Split and turned him firmly away. “It’s all getting repainted.”

Similar forms of disorder appeared to be going on inside every business. “The chaos, it burns.” He shuddered

“I know, I know. The disorganization offends your sensibilities. There is a plan for each and every one. I swear. Tyler, Mitch, and I worked it out before we ever started.”

“If you say so.” He didn’t bother to hide the skepticism.

She gave him a smacking kiss. “Go play in the dirt and leave the organizing to us. And maybe use the opportunity to charm some of your compatriots on the Council.” She nodded to where Grace Handeford and Hank van Buren were listening closely as Violet instructed them on the proper means of planting a multi-season hanging basket. “I had Molly put them on your team, just in case.”

“Sneaky sneaky. I like that about you.”

With a saucy wink she left him, calling out for Dillon, who had a pair of chairs from the ice cream parlor tucked under either arm.

Cam crossed over to join his official crew for the day.

He had twenty people to manage, most of whom were regulars at the nursery. Four of them were on the Black List and not allowed to touch any plants they hadn’t already paid for—per Violet’s orders. Since the object of this project was downtown beautification, Cam wasn’t going to argue with her. It wouldn’t do for everything those folks planted to wither up and die in two days, as their track records suggested. He put them to work mounting the special brackets they’d ordered on the light posts running the length of Main Street. Violet had the hanging basket and planter folks well in hand, so the remaining few were designated tree planters. Which would’ve been fine if the damned tree spade on the Bobcat hadn’t blown a valve. With that one, single problem, a couple hours of work turned into an impossible task.

“Son of a bitch.” Cam slapped a hand against the Bobcat.

“Having a bit of bad luck there, Crawford?”

Cam turned and tensed as he caught sight of Roy McKennon. He looked rough, but sober in Carhartts and a flannel shirt. Had he been here from the start? Cam couldn’t remember. He hadn’t seen Roy since Liam’s welcome home party, and he didn’t imagine that the other man had changed his opinion on what Cam was trying to do regarding GrandGoods. Was he angry enough to try to sabotage the equipment?

“Little equipment malfunction, as it happens.” Cam kept his tone neutral.

Roy looked from the Bobcat to the nursery truck, where more than a dozen trees waited to be planted. “You ain’t gonna get that done with whatcha got.”

That was the plain truth, and Cam couldn’t argue it. He’d have to go track down Norah, see if she wanted them to try to put in what they could the old-fashioned way or hold off until he could get the tree spade repaired. “It’s always somethin’.

“Reckon you could use some strong backs.”

“Sorry?”

“I happen to know some.” The older man turned and whistled.

Across the green, nearly a dozen men broke away from a cluster of pick-up trucks and headed their way.

Catching Cam’s wary look, Roy said, “We came to work, same as everybody else. Be obliged if you’d let us help.”

Too stunned to reply, Cam could only stare for a moment.

“I may not agree with you on all your politics, but it’s a good thing y’all are doin’ here. Been a long time since Wishful had something good.”

“Hopefully this is the start of a new trend.” Cam offered a hand. “I’d appreciate the help.”

When Roy’s friends joined them, Cam divided them into teams of three and assigned them spots to dig, giving instructions on width and depth of the holes they’d need for the root balls of the Bradford pears they were putting in. He wiped out Tyler’s supply of shovels to cover the extra labor, but it was well worth it seeing the teamwork and camaraderie among men who hadn’t had reason to smile in a good long while.

More than an hour passed before he made it back to Hank and Grace, who were discussing the congestion of vehicles from all the out of town volunteers.

“I’m pretty sure I saw Aggie Crockett circle the block four times without finding a space,” Hank said.

It was exactly the opening he needed. “That’s just a fraction of the kind of impact GrandGoods would have,” Cam said. “The typical warehouse club of the size they propose has average of five
thousand
vehicle trips
per
weekday, depending on the size of the store. And weekends are bigger.”

“That’s…a lot,” Grace admitted.

“That’s more than double our entire population of drivers. We’ve got to think about expenses for the city, like road maintenance and police force that would be required to compensate for an increase of that magnitude.”

“It would be a significant burden on our existing tax base.” Hank looked reflective. “Certainly supplemental funding from the state hasn’t been forthcoming. I don’t see that getting any better in the future. Not under the current administration anyway.”

“So if they built, we’d get the excess traffic from people who don’t live here, don’t contribute to the roads they’re wearing out. And on top of that, all the land in the general vicinity of the store would decrease in property value because of traffic and noise and the kind of chain-oriented urban bloat that tends to go along
with
these big box stores. And that’s not even touching on the impacts on the environment.”

“You raise some good points, Cam. But what’s the alternative?” Grace asked.

“If we focus on revitalizing downtown, really supporting local retail and creating a climate that will appeal to entrepreneurs looking for good locations to invest in small business, it’s a benefit to the entire community. People don’t have to drive as far to conduct their day to day business. That means fewer vehicle miles logged, lower accident rates, lower vehicle emissions. And it encourages more of a walking culture, which improves the health of the local populace
and
strengthens community ties because people are out and about and interacting instead of trapped behind the wheel.”