Page 57 of Hottie on Her Shelf
Chapter Twelve
Fitz loved sailing, being out in the open water, pitting himself against the elements.
He loved cross-country skiing in pristine snow and having a moose cross his path.
And he loved listening to people. Not blowhards droning on and on. Not idiots self-aggrandizing. But people opening up about what mattered to them.
When he could mix giving them the safe space to talk and the opportunity to help them, it was a good day. Pretty much the best days he had as mayor.
The trick of it was getting both sides to listen to each other before they started swearing and hurling insults. Fitz had a window about as wide as a spider’s filament to make that happen. Right now? He was tightrope walking on that single thread and hoping for the best.
Ravi Patel pounded the side of his fist on the conference table. “You have to cut down those trees that fell in the ice storm. What landed in the water is acting as a makeshift dam. It’s disturbing the delicate balance of the watershed.”
It was a fair point, and expected from him. Ravi headed up the Coastal Bays and Estuaries program. Well, he was technically the head of one of the genetics sequencing departments at Cygnet Labs. Apparently, when your brain was world-class brilliant, heading up town environmental committees was a fun activity. A hobby—just a far more respectable one than the way Fitz and his friends spent their downtime watching Red Sox games.
“Nature versus nurture.” Raquel Milligan, from the Park and Leisure Services advisory board, held up both hands like a set of scales. “Also see nature is red in tooth and claw. In other words, let nature do what it will and stop trying to control it.”
Ravi’s right eye twitched. “That’s not what either of those phrases means.”
Fitz used his pen to push the box from Frosted ’n Frozen, the ice cream and donut shop, closer to the man. Sugar usually helped soothe people—or at least stuff their mouths—long enough to let the other side get their argument out. Aside from his last name, that store was probably most responsible for his success as mayor.
Wendy DeLuca tapped her crazy long, tapered orange nails against each other. “Besides, do you know how expensive it’ll be to cut them down? That’s an unforeseen chunk of budget yanked away.”
“Unforeseen?” Bruce Barnett’s snort was loud enough that Fitz half expected to watch a loogie sail across the table. “You’re on the Tree and Landscape committee for a town in Maine. You didn’t foresee that harsh weather would at any point, every damn year, impact your trees and landscapes?”
Bruce was a…character?
Sure, that was the kindest descriptor. Those who weren’t kind called him loud. Harsh. With assholish tendencies more often than not. But he owned a fleet of ships based over in Crow Harbor, was proud he’d built it, one by one, and then clawed his way across the tracks to live in Swan Cove.
Hell.
Which meant his fleet would be seriously impacted by the plans for the new marina/resort.
The man could be a jerk, but he also put in more volunteer time than five other people combined. Bruce downright loved this town, the way anyone loved the realization of a dream. Fitz appreciated the hell out of the guy…when he wasn’t busy trying to calm the storms Bruce always left in his wake.
Yes, Wendy’s comment had been idiotic and indefensible, but it didn’t mean Bruce should be allowed to make her feel idiotic.
At least Ravi had picked up a strawberry glazed. That should buy Fitz time to calm things down. He loosened the knot of his tie and undid the top button. It’d make everyone feel like he was digging in and in the trenches withthem.
“Look, I know everyone seated in this room wants what’s best for Swan Cove. We don’t have to necessarily agree on what that might be. We just have to find a way to interweave all these solid requests while still respecting where everyone is coming from.” Fitz finished by leveling a warning glare at Bruce.
“We don’t have the money to do the full removal of those trees andplant new ones. Ms. Scott reminded us yesterday about that.”
Hallie’s pointed accounting of where he’d fallen short on campaign promises had been, well, a brilliant strategy for which he applauded her…
…as well as a gigantic pain in the ass. He’d been dodging questions from all quarters ever since. Derek was doing a crap job of shielding him from the brunt of them. Fitz had thought this meeting would give him an hour of peace from being hounded.
Stifling a sigh, Fitz asked, “About what?”
“How you promised to plant ten more trees a year in the historic downtown.”
Really?
Should’ve read whatever stump speech that had featured in a hell of a lot more closely. Swan Cove was exactly two things: the harbor front and the forest, with maybe an inch of neutral ground in between. Fitz wanted to do right by the environment, but Mother Nature could take out twentytrees a year around here and nobody would notice.
Aside from Wendy and her tree census committee members.
“Even if we had the money to do both, finding the labor is a problem. Everyone in the landscaping business is booked. This is their high season.” Raquel gave a smug head toss—which didn’t really come off, since her hair was too short to flip. “We’ve already scheduled all our plantings on behalf of the committee for a year from now.”
