Our Now and Forever(79)

“As if I held a gun to your head and made you eat that third helping of dressing,” Lorelei teased, giving Spencer’s stomach a conciliatory rub.

Rosie Pratchett sure knew how to cook a turkey. Caleb had taken it easier than Spencer on the dressing. Though he’d snatched all the white meat he could without hogging it all.

“It wasn’t only females who did the cooking today,” Snow said. “Caleb did make two pies.”

Spencer groaned while Mike said, “I’ve been dying to try that apple pie since my first whiff. I’ll help you cut, Rosie.”

Once the sweets were dished up and passed around, Caleb brought up the suggestion that had come to him a few days before. “Has anyone around here considered setting up a preservation society?”

The table occupants exchanged glances before Spencer said, “Like a historical thing?”

“Yeah,” Caleb said. “I attended an auction out at the Brambleton place with Snow, and it seems a shame that all those antiques were scattered far and wide. And then there’s Silvester House. Not that Hattie is going anywhere anytime soon, but I’d hate to see the same happen there. Add the Ruby to the list, and Ardent Springs has a solid collection of historic structures.”

“Some of downtown would qualify, too,” Pearl said. “But what would forming a preservation society require?”

Between his family’s association with restoration projects and his own research, Caleb had a ready answer. “First would be to talk to folks around town. Civic organizations. Chamber of Commerce. Merchants. See what kind of interest and response we get on the subject. Eventually, if we really wanted to form a nonprofit, we’d bring a key group in for organizational meetings, draw up bylaws, and file some papers.” Accepting the slice of pie Rosie offered, he added, “The Ruby committee has proven that enough locals are willing to step up with their time and energy. My guess is a full-out preservation society would be a welcome option.”

The crowd grew quiet enough that Caleb thought maybe he’d crossed a line he didn’t know about. After all, he wasn’t a local, and probably shouldn’t be suggesting how these people should or shouldn’t run their town. But then Spencer broke the silence.

“We were so focused on the Ruby, we missed the bigger picture.”

“When you say ‘file some papers,’ what do you mean?” Lorelei asked.

“Establishing the group as a nonprofit would require filing with both the IRS and the state of Tennessee. That way anyone who donates to the society would be able to write it off on their taxes.”

“And the society wouldn’t have to pay taxes on the money raised,” Lowry added. “But how would this tie in or conflict with the Ruby committee? A group looking to preserve the history would have a lot to say about what restorations should and shouldn’t be done.”

This was true. Caleb had been involved in a restoration project in the French Quarter that turned into a nightmare when the New Orleans preservation group insisted on approval of the building’s exterior colors. In the end, the building had been painted three times, at an exorbitant expense, only to have the original colors approved in the end.

“That’s a hiccup I didn’t consider, but in this case, the committees would probably share several members, meaning the new society is less likely to become an obstacle. And from what I’ve seen at the meetings, preserving historical details are already a major consideration in the plans for the Ruby.”

“You know where you’d get pushback,” Lorelei said, looking at Spencer.

“We can handle Winkle,” he said.

Caleb hesitated with his fork halfway through his pie. “I thought Winkle was the one who wanted things to stay the same. Why would he be against a preservation society?”

“The auction business, remember?” Snow said, speaking up for the first time. “If these old houses stay intact, he has nothing to auction off.”

“So he’d cut up local history to turn a profit?” Caleb put his fork down. “How did this man get elected again?” With all the stories he’d heard, this was the one mystery he couldn’t solve.

“Same as every other politician with no business being in office,” Spencer said. “Tell ’em what they want to hear, turn up the fear, and make promises you can’t keep.”

“You going to run against him next year?” Caleb asked. Boyd might have been young for politics, but he was a born leader.

Lorelei choked on her pie while Rosie said, “I wish to heck he would.”

Pearl added her support, saying, “I’d vote for him.”