True Love at Silver Creek Ranch(77)
“I can’t eat there without havin’ my Manhattan,” Grandma Palmer said loudly. “Give them their renewal and let’s move on!”
The rumbling of discontented voices drowned out the laughter and got a little louder with each successive discussion, until at last Sylvester was called to speak on the item he’d added to the agenda.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Mayor Galimi,” he intoned. “We have strict rules against pornography, and I am here to see that they’re upheld.”
The Honorable Mayor Galimi, a woman in her sixties with short hair she left its natural silver-white, peered over her glasses at her brother, looking like everyone’s idea of a strict, spinster teacher. “Sylvester, what are you talking about?”
Adam and Brooke exchanged a surprised glance. He hadn’t discussed it with his sister yet? Was that good or bad?
“A business called”—he hesitated, as if regretting having to speak the name—“Leather and Lace is trying to worm its way into our innocent, unaware community of Valentine Valley.”
Whitney stood up on the opposite side of the room from Sylvester. She looked slender, unthreatening, but when she spoke, Adam thought her voice calm and rational.
“May I speak, Your Honor?”
“And you are?” Mayor Galimi asked.
“Whitney Winslow, owner of the Leather and Lace stores in San Francisco and Las Vegas. I am looking into purchasing a building off Main Street to open another branch of my store. I sell lingerie, ma’am, and I have a portfolio here with some of my work. Believe me, it is not pornography. Women can wear any type of undergarments they like. The whole point”—she gave Sylvester a frown—“is that they’re worn under clothes.”
Muted chuckles spread through their half of the room.
“Maybe we should have planned a fashion show,” Mrs. Thalberg grumbled. “Or we could have worn our undergarments outside our clothing!”
Grandma Palmer slapped her knee. “Why didn’t we think of that sooner?”
Before Adam could protest, Brooke leaned across the front of him, bracing herself with a hand on his thigh, to whisper at the widows. “Because it would be inappropriate and possibly damaging to Whitney’s cause. Now shh!”
Adam smiled at her, covering her hand with his until she quickly pulled hers away, wearing a blush. All this secrecy was such interesting foreplay.
“But such risqué lingerie will have to be displayed in the store, Your Honor,” Sylvester was quick to point out, “without the benefit of being covered by clothing. I have been talking with my fellow townspeople, and most of us are appalled that—”
His sister interrupted him. “I’m not sure you even have half this room, Sylvester, so let’s not make broad statements.”
Adam and Brooke shared a relieved look. Sounded like the mayor could be impartial.
“You’re welcome to see my catalogue online, Your Honor,” Whitney pointed out. “I admit, some items are only for sale online because they would not be appropriate for a small-town store. My window displays will be tasteful, nothing that you wouldn’t see in any department store.”
“If it’s for sale, it will find its way into her store,” Sylvester insisted. “I have a petition signed by hundreds of people—”
“We do, too, Mayor Galimi,” Grandma Palmer said, rising to her feet to be seen behind the half dozen rows in front of her. “Not everyone agrees with Sylvester.”
As the petitions were passed forward, people started arguing with each other across the aisles. Mrs. Ludlow used her walker to block the way of someone collecting petitions for their opponents until Doug Thalberg pulled it back.
Grandma Palmer calmly waited her turn to continue. Adam realized she was dressed almost understated for her, in bright red that made her stand out but not in her usual wacky way.
“Mayor Galimi,” Grandma Palmer said at last, “Miss Winslow approached the Valentine Valley Preservation Committee about grants to help her restore the old funeral home on Grace and Fourth. We’ve found nothin’ objectionable, nothin’ pornographic. I don’t see how Sylvester can try to tell women what they can wear under their clothes!”
Over half the room roared with laughter, overwhelming the glowers of the rest.
Another woman stood up, and everyone else settled down when the mayor pounded her gavel.
“You have something to say, Debbie?”
The plump woman wore a sweatshirt with the logo of her B&B, an etching of an elegant woman with an Edwardian large-brimmed hat tilted over her face. “I’m the owner of The Adelaide, where Miss Winslow is staying. I’m planning to host a lingerie event so everyone can see how tasteful each garment is. If you remember, Mayor Galimi, many people resisted bed-and-breakfasts thirty years ago, claiming they’d bring tourists to ruin our wholesome family town. Well, tourists have saved us, and upscale lingerie in a town called Valentine can only help.”