A hush fell over the room as Cooper struggled to check his temper. “As you’ll see if you look at the handout, there are still three open spots in the For Sale section, which means no one is being turned away.”
“That being said, don’t you think it’s a conflict of interest for you to cross the line from organizer to participant?” Winkle pressed.
Reaching his breaking point, Cooper said, “No, Mayor, I don’t think it’s a conflict of interest. Does anyone else?”
Twenty-three sets of eyes darted from face to face. If anyone agreed with the mayor, they kept their thoughts to themselves.
“I think that settles the issue.” Buford smacked his gavel on the podium. “Thank you, Cooper, that should do it.” Turning to the gathering, he asked, “Does anyone else have new business to discuss?” Not a hand went up. “Then this meeting is adjourned.” Another smack of the gavel and the sound of scraping chairs filled the air.
“That was one hell of a comeback,” Caleb said.
Lorelei hugged Cooper’s arm. “I’d pay money for a picture of his face when no one backed him up.”
Cooper shrugged, adrenaline still pumping. “He’ll do anything to push back on this project.” Glancing over his shoulder to see the mayor beat a hasty retreat, he added, “Winkle will get his comeuppance eventually. I just hope I’m there to see it.” Cooper checked his watch. If he was going to reach Abby’s house by nine, he needed to leave now. “I’ll see y’all later.”
“What?” Spencer asked. “You aren’t coming to Brubaker’s?”
“Nah,” Cooper answered with a grin. “I’ve got a date.”
Lorelei tucked her arm through Spencer’s. “And who’s the lucky girl?” she asked, knowing full well he meant Haleigh Rae.
“Just the prettiest girl in town,” he said over his shoulder, laughing at the protests that echoed behind him.
In a ridiculous effort to start the night off on a positive note, Haleigh had made sure to change out of her scrubs, putting on a dress no less, and picked up an apple pie, her mother’s favorite, on the way over. Instead of walking in as usual, she rang the doorbell and waited on the porch for her mother to answer. Allowing her mother to fulfill the hostess role, therefore being firmly in charge and somewhat bowed to, was sure to play in Haleigh’s favor.
Or so she’d thought.
“Why did you ring the bell?” her mother said upon opening the door. No hello. No what do you have there? “I was finishing my makeup and you made me stop to open a door for which you have a key.”
Strike one.
“I was showing respect that this is your home and not mine anymore,” Haleigh answered in the most diplomatic and nonconfrontational tone she could manage. “I brought you a pie.” She thrust the dessert forward after stepping into the foyer.
Ignoring the offering, her mother said, “Haleigh Rae, you grew up in this house. It will always be your home, and I’d prefer you not force me to open the door like some hired housekeeper.”
Keeping her smile firmly in place, Haleigh thrust the treat forward again. “It’s an apple pie.”
“It’s hard enough to keep my figure at this age without you bringing me pies.”
Strike two.
“I can take home whatever we don’t eat.”
Taking the offering from her hands, she said, “If you planned to take it home, why did you bring it at all?”
And strike three. This had to be some kind of record.
The only thing that kept Haleigh from making an immediate exit was the knowledge that once this visit to hell ended, she’d spend the rest of the evening with Cooper. The man who now knew all of her grisly details and wanted her anyway. If that wasn’t a bona fide miracle, Haleigh didn’t know what was.
Not that she planned to tell her mother about this miracle. Then there would be judgment and insults and snobbery of epic proportions. None of which Haleigh wanted to deal with tonight.
She did, however, plan to share her other endeavor.
Once her mother had settled into her second glass of wine—she’d never felt the need to refrain while her daughter was around—Haleigh said, “I’ve been asked to take the lead on a new project just underway.”
“Really?” her mother said with mild interest as she sliced her chicken cordon bleu courtesy of Lancelot’s Restaurant. “Will it mean a promotion at the hospital?”
Slicing her own chicken, Haleigh replied, “This project isn’t connected to the hospital.”
Pausing mid-bite, her mom said, “I hope it won’t interfere with your duties, or force you to cut back your hours.”