change the zoning for some property so we can sell it to developers who want to build homes."
"What's on the property now?"
"Some of the buildings are abandoned, some have small businesses in them."
His brother set down his fork. "What will happen to the small businesses?"
Greg saw where the conversation was headed. He glanced to their housekeeper Yvonne for help, but she gave him a look
over the Parmesan chicken that said, "You're on your own, sonny."
He cleared his throat. "They'll relocate."
"You mean they'll have to move?"
"Yes."
"Do they want to move?"
Greg took a sip from his water glass. "Some of them probably don't want to move, no."
"Then I don't think you should make them."
"Will, we own the property. These people only rent space, like having an apartment. If you were renting an apartment, would
you expect the owner to operate at a loss just so you wouldn't have to move?"
"No."
"This is the same principle. Besides, the business owners will have the opportunity to present their side to the council
meeting tonight, too."
Will leaned forward. "Will there be girls at the council meeting, Gregory?"
Yvonne arched a gray eyebrow in Greg's direction. He shifted in his seat. "A few, I suppose."
"Maybe I could go with you."
"Er, you'd probably be bored, Will."
"I don't mind, Gregory."
He exchanged another glance with their housekeeper, then shrugged. "Sure, if you'd like to go."
Will's grin was so wide, Greg was sorry he hadn't suggested it himself. Will gestured to his own jeans and khaki shirt.
"Should I wear a suit, too?"
The sweet innocence of Will wanting to impress a woman he hadn't even met pulled at Greg's heart. In his mind, there wasn't
a female breathing who was good enough for Will. "No, buddy, you look just fine."
WET FROM THE DRIZZLING RAIN , Lana jogged into the community center where garland and paper snowflakes
abounded, and glanced at the doors she passed, searching for the right room number. A minor emergency with the alarm system
at the coffee shop had her running late. She had hoped to go home and change into something more impressive than hip-hugger
jeans and a coffee-stained yellow smiley-face sweatshirt, but it couldn't be helped now. At last, she found the door to the room
and slipped inside.
She was thankful the meeting hadn't yet started. Voices of what looked to be about one hundred people mingled in a low roar.
Rows of folding chairs had been erected for participants, facing a long table at the front of the room where six council
members sat talking among themselves. Margaret Wheeler—the president of the city council, if Lana's memory served—was
giving an interview to a local news reporter. Lana's mouth went dry with nervousness.
From across the room, an arm waved. Marshall Ballou and some of the other merchants were sitting together. Alex was
there, too, wearing a supportive smile. Lana made her way toward them, hoping they wouldn't be sorry they'd asked her to
speak on their behalf. But she'd tried to do her homework, and her canvas tote was full of facts and figures.
"Are you nervous?" Marsh asked.
"A little."
"Just be yourself and let them know we're taking a stand."
In the front, the president pounded a gavel on a wooden block several times. "Everyone, please take your seats. If you're
planning to speak on the issue of Rezoning Proposal 642, please sit near the front so you can access the standing microphone
more easily."
Alex gave her arm a squeeze. "We'll be right here cheering you on."
Lana took a deep breath and moved through the settling crowd, searching for a seat. The gathering was much larger than she'd
imagined. Her pulse kicked up at the thought that her life savings and livelihood could be swept away by a single decision from
the six people sitting at the table, people who might remember her as a rabble-rouser on previous issues.
"You can sit here, ma'am," a man's kind voice said.
Lana turned and looked up at one of the largest
"What's on the property now?"
"Some of the buildings are abandoned, some have small businesses in them."
His brother set down his fork. "What will happen to the small businesses?"
Greg saw where the conversation was headed. He glanced to their housekeeper Yvonne for help, but she gave him a look
over the Parmesan chicken that said, "You're on your own, sonny."
He cleared his throat. "They'll relocate."
"You mean they'll have to move?"
"Yes."
"Do they want to move?"
Greg took a sip from his water glass. "Some of them probably don't want to move, no."
"Then I don't think you should make them."
"Will, we own the property. These people only rent space, like having an apartment. If you were renting an apartment, would
you expect the owner to operate at a loss just so you wouldn't have to move?"
"No."
"This is the same principle. Besides, the business owners will have the opportunity to present their side to the council
meeting tonight, too."
Will leaned forward. "Will there be girls at the council meeting, Gregory?"
Yvonne arched a gray eyebrow in Greg's direction. He shifted in his seat. "A few, I suppose."
"Maybe I could go with you."
"Er, you'd probably be bored, Will."
"I don't mind, Gregory."
He exchanged another glance with their housekeeper, then shrugged. "Sure, if you'd like to go."
Will's grin was so wide, Greg was sorry he hadn't suggested it himself. Will gestured to his own jeans and khaki shirt.
"Should I wear a suit, too?"
The sweet innocence of Will wanting to impress a woman he hadn't even met pulled at Greg's heart. In his mind, there wasn't
a female breathing who was good enough for Will. "No, buddy, you look just fine."
WET FROM THE DRIZZLING RAIN , Lana jogged into the community center where garland and paper snowflakes
abounded, and glanced at the doors she passed, searching for the right room number. A minor emergency with the alarm system
at the coffee shop had her running late. She had hoped to go home and change into something more impressive than hip-hugger
jeans and a coffee-stained yellow smiley-face sweatshirt, but it couldn't be helped now. At last, she found the door to the room
and slipped inside.
She was thankful the meeting hadn't yet started. Voices of what looked to be about one hundred people mingled in a low roar.
Rows of folding chairs had been erected for participants, facing a long table at the front of the room where six council
members sat talking among themselves. Margaret Wheeler—the president of the city council, if Lana's memory served—was
giving an interview to a local news reporter. Lana's mouth went dry with nervousness.
From across the room, an arm waved. Marshall Ballou and some of the other merchants were sitting together. Alex was
there, too, wearing a supportive smile. Lana made her way toward them, hoping they wouldn't be sorry they'd asked her to
speak on their behalf. But she'd tried to do her homework, and her canvas tote was full of facts and figures.
"Are you nervous?" Marsh asked.
"A little."
"Just be yourself and let them know we're taking a stand."
In the front, the president pounded a gavel on a wooden block several times. "Everyone, please take your seats. If you're
planning to speak on the issue of Rezoning Proposal 642, please sit near the front so you can access the standing microphone
more easily."
Alex gave her arm a squeeze. "We'll be right here cheering you on."
Lana took a deep breath and moved through the settling crowd, searching for a seat. The gathering was much larger than she'd
imagined. Her pulse kicked up at the thought that her life savings and livelihood could be swept away by a single decision from
the six people sitting at the table, people who might remember her as a rabble-rouser on previous issues.
"You can sit here, ma'am," a man's kind voice said.
Lana turned and looked up at one of the largest
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