Angel's Rest(7)
Blue eyes twinkled as she reached up to adjust the jaunty brim of her white felt hat. “You mean my Honda Gold Wing?”
Sarah leaned forward and gaped at Celeste. “You bought a motorcycle?”
“What can I say? I love to fly.”
Sarah groaned, closed her eyes, and banged her forehead against her palm. “My daughter is so not allowed to hang out with you anymore.”
Celeste laughed softly, and—as always when she heard that particular sound—Nic’s tension melted away. The woman had a gift, an air of serenity about her that was contagious. A widowed, retired schoolteacher from South Carolina, Celeste wore her silver-gray hair in a stylish bob, spoke with a delightful, soft southern accent, and demonstrated an old-money class that blended with a youthful sense of fun. Nic adored her. “Have I mentioned how glad I am that you decided to retire in Eternity Springs, Celeste?”
Pleasure warmed the older woman’s eyes. “Thank you, dear. You’re too kind.”
“Nope. Just selfish. Being around you makes me feel good.”
A loud squeal blasted through the room. Celeste winced and sighed. “That reminds me of my Fancy-cat when I was slow with breakfast.”
Nic gave her new friend’s hand a comforting squeeze. Celeste had arrived in town this past spring with a treasure trove of books and a cranky, arthritic Persian cat. When she brought her ailing Fancy to Nic’s clinic, the depth of her love for her pet had been obvious, and Nic had hated relaying a terminal diagnosis. Celeste had been working up the nerve to have Fancy put down when the cat died in her sleep just over a month ago. Though the older woman had accepted the loss of her pet with grace, Nic knew she was hurting. “You let me know when the time is right for you, and I’ll fix you up with a four-legged somebody needing a home.”
She wondered how Celeste felt about boxers.
“You have a good heart, Nicole Sullivan, and I appreciate your sensitivity. I think I’ll be ready for another pet sooner rather than later. That big old house is lonely with only my old bones rattling around in it.”
“I can imagine.”
Upon moving to Eternity, Celeste had purchased the old Cavanaugh estate, the large Victorian mansion built back in the 1880s by one of the owners of the Silver Miracle mine. Cavanaugh House had been a showplace in its time and later additions contributed to its hodgepodge charm. But after tragedy struck the family in the 1970s, the house had sat empty and the years of neglect had taken a toll.
Onstage the huddle broke and the three council members took their seats at a table. Mayor Hank Townsend stepped up to the podium, banged his gavel twice, and declared, “I’m calling this special town hall meeting to order. Thank you all for coming out on such a blustery autumn evening. Looks like winter might arrive early this year. Hope everyone is ready.”
From the front row, the owner of Fill-U-Up, Eternity’s combination gas station and convenience store, called out, “Quit politicking, Hank, and tell us what the governor’s office said!”
The mayor scowled and banged his gavel again for good measure. “You’re out of order, Dale Parker.”
“Just like the diesel pump at your place,” added one of the council members, Larry Wilson, who owned Eternity’s building supply store. “I have to go beg fuel for my delivery trucks from the city pumps. When do you intend to get that thing fixed?”
“As soon as I know that my business will survive the winter,” Dale fired back. “Just spill the beans, Hank. Are we getting the prison or not?”
The mayor closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and visibly braced himself before saying in a flat, defeated tone. “No. No, we’re not.”
Nic released the breath she unconsciously had been holding as the gathering let out a collective groan. Beside her, Sarah shut her eyes and winced. This was bad news for Eternity. Nic knew it. Yet she couldn’t deny that in her heart of hearts, she was glad. No matter how she’d tried to convince herself and others, she never believed that a state prison would be the answer to Eternity’s prayers.
“That’s it, then,” Dale Parker said, his tone morose. “Eternity is done for. Three bad summer seasons in a row and no prison to halt the bleeding. We might as well roll up the sidewalks and hang a Closed sign at the city limits.”
A buzz of voices agreed with him. Hank Townsend shook his head. “Hold on now, Dale. Everybody take a deep breath and don’t be so negative. Your city council isn’t giving up. In fact, we’ve scheduled a meeting directly following this one to come up with a plan D. Everyone who—”