New Leash on Life(14)

She finished with a banner over the face of a ridiculously cute pug that said, “Hot diggity dog! Let’s go to Better Bark!”

And every single person in the room sat in dead, stunned silence, flattened by the bulldozer that was Chloe Somerset and her ideas.

Including Shane. He’d listened, holding her little white business card in his hand, running his fingers over the raised letters the way he wanted to run them over her body. Slowly, carefully, and with great admiration.

She finished, closed her laptop, and sat quietly, looking from one to the other. “Any questions, ladies and gentlemen?”

“Yes,” Jane Gruen said. “How quickly can we do this so I can get my B&B certified for dogs and advertise it?”

“You’d let dogs in the Bitter Bark Bed & Breakfast?” Ned shot back. “They’d chew up the furniture and piss on the rugs.”

“Hang on.” Blanche raised a hand as if she had to be the voice of reason. “A change of town name would require first an advisory committee vote, then if it passed, it would have to be taken to the town council for a hearing that allowed for debate from business owners and locals and, finally, a full citizens’ vote. I’d have to look at the bylaws, but a name change is not something that can be done in this room, obviously. But we can take an initial committee vote.”

“We don’t have to vote.” Mitch leaned forward. “This is a waste of time and will never pass.”

“What?” Andi’s jaw dropped. “This is the single most exciting idea I’ve ever heard.”

“Forget the dogs.” The librarian, Nellie, cleared her throat, fighting for their attention, color rising when she got it. “This town was founded in 1867 by Thaddeus Ambrose Bushrod. He named it after the tree that sits at the heart of the entire community. You can’t change history.”

Every eye in the room shifted to Chloe, waiting for her to volley back.

“Then you better change the tree.” She crossed her arms and leaned forward. “Because that one is a hickory tree.”

That caused another little uproar, but not from Nervous Nellie. She nodded repeatedly. “That’s true. It may be that Captain Bushrod was mistaken about the tree. But he thought it was a bitter bark, and he named the town after that tree.”

“Bitter bark is actually a shrub with wonderful medicinal uses,” Chloe said. “If it would make you feel better, we could plant some all over the square and call it Better Bark.”

That caused another round of arguments that Chloe silenced by holding her hands up. “Please, think of the publicity if we rename this town a hundred and fifty years after its founding…with a hundred and fifty dogs in the square,” she added, her voice rising as if she just had a new idea. “The Barkiversary!”

Shane gave a soft hoot and clapped. “Damn, you’re good.”

“Well, of course you’re all for this,” Jeannie Slattery hissed at him. “Waterford Farm would only benefit financially. I suspect you’re behind this whole thing, frankly. Tourists all coming in and going to see your place. It would build your business.”

“It would build everyone’s business,” Andi Rivers chimed in. “That’s the whole idea, Jeannie. It differentiates us in a way that no one ever dreamed of.” She beamed at Chloe. “My head is spinning with ideas that we could incorporate into the next phase of development.”

“That phase is on hold,” Dave Ashland chimed in. “I’ve been texting James Fisker, who owns a little over twenty-five percent of Bushrod Square, and he’s not ready to develop anything with property values as low as they are.”

“But values can only go up if we’re wall-to-wall with tourists,” Blanche retorted. “We can’t do anything if we don’t do anything.”

The pithy phrase got everyone mumbling and made Chloe beam at the mayor. “Exactly,” she agreed.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Easterbrook stood to take over the conversation. “I speak as the representative of the family that’s been burying Bitter Barkers for five generations.” He leveled a gaze at Chloe. “An Easterbrook put Thaddeus Bushrod in the ground under that tree.”

“That hickory tree,” she said softly.

He looked like he wanted to bury her. “We need to vote,” he said, adjusting the sleek tie that added to his tall and commanding presence. “By secret ballot, so there are no hurt feelings and no lobbying one way or another. Before we spend one more moment of our short and precious lives on something that will either turn everything upside down or become a distant memory. Every single one of us in this room, except you, Miss Somerset, needs to cast a yes or no vote. From there, we’ll either take it to the town council or ask our esteemed specialist to return to her drawing board for more ideas.”