Though his own temper stirred, Cam kept his voice level. “It’s a tough place to be in, but there’s no shame in asking for help when you need it.”
That was absolutely the wrong thing to say. Roy’s face reddened. “You’ve got no right! No goddamned right to do anything to stop job opportunities from coming to this town.” He lunged for Cam, the bottle crashing to the floor as he swung one meaty fist.
Liam snagged Roy’s arm, twisting it behind his back until the other man howled. “You need to settle on down now, Mr. McKennon. This isn’t the place.”
Speakeasy fell silent, all eyes turned on them.
Roy subsided in Liam’s grip, his burst of liquid courage evidently spent. April McKennon, a worn-looking woman in her early forties, crossed the room, her face set in lines of abject mortification.
“We’re going home.” Her tone brooked no argument. “I’m very sorry for this. Liam, we welcome you back to Wishful and thank you for your service to our country.”
“Yes ma’am.” He released her husband. “Thank you.”
“Get to the car, Roy.”
Roy looked as if he might argue, but his wife just pointed with the well-honed authority of a mother of three, and he headed for the door.
April turned back toward Cam. “I’m sorry. Roy’s a proud man, and this…financial downturn has been really hard on him. He needs somebody to blame, and he’s settled on you.”
“I understand.” Cam thought of the conversation with his mother about how they might have to do things they didn’t necessarily like in order to save Wishful. “I swear to you, Mrs. McKennon, I’m trying my hardest to do what’s best for this town.”
“I’m sure you think you are.” Without another word, she turned and followed her husband to the door, her head held high, her shoulders stiff.
Cam ached for her, knowing that the embarrassment over the scene her husband caused upset her as much as his unemployment.
Conversation gradually rose again in the wake of their departure. Cam rubbed a hand on the back of his neck as he turned back to Liam. “Well. Sorry ’bout that. I’m not exactly the most popular around here these days.”
“Did you really block a Ford plant?”
Tucker McGee stepped up and handed Cam a beer. “Reckon you could use this. Cam was not, in fact, a one man army against Ford. He simply brought up all the relevant environmental impacts such a plant would have on the area, and the bulk of the City Council backed him up and decided it wasn’t the right answer. Plus, I heard they got more favorable terms from some other state offering tax incentives and such that we couldn’t.”
“Not that the general public seems to be aware of that. I was the most vocal opponent, so I’m the scapegoat for why we didn’t get it. Times are really tough for a lot of folks.” Aware that more people had queued up to talk to Liam, Cam gave in to his own keen desire to escape. “Anyway, I meant what I said. If I can do anything to help you find something, I will.”
“Thanks again.”
Tucker followed Cam over to the buffet. “It’s not your fault, you know.”
“I know that.” But it was hard not to feel some responsibility as April’s pa
rting words echoed through his head. I’m sure you think you are. Was he wrong? His duty was to the townspeople, to his constituents, not just to further his own agenda of preserving the town exactly as he wanted it. He was starting to lose hope that there was any way to satisfy them and assuage his conscience.
~*~
Clad in yoga pants and an ancient Ole Miss sweatshirt that was a dozen washings away from losing its collar, Norah sat curled on one end of Miranda’s sofa, a pint of General Tso’s chicken in her hands as the credits began to roll on Serendipity. They’d talked most of the way through the movie, catching up on things that hadn’t come up in their twice weekly phone conversations. More relaxed than she’d been in ages, Norah let her head fall back to the cushions. “Chinese food and chick flicks. You do know how to take care of me.”
“I am a medical professional.” Miranda polished off the last of her sweet and sour chicken.
“I miss this. I miss you. Chicago hasn’t been the same since you moved home.”
“Feeling a bit like the last southerner standing?”
“Like a zoo exhibit at times.” Norah grimaced.
“I know you love your job, and you’ve invested a lot in Helios, but there’s nothing that says you can’t move back below the Mason Dixon line, you know. Especially since you’re not tied to Pierce anymore.”
Even less reason than you know. Now was the time to tell her the full truth, come clean about being fired. But she just…couldn’t. Not yet. Because Miranda, God love her, was a steamroller, and she’d push as much as Norah’s parents, albeit out of love rather than her own agenda. Norah just couldn’t deal with that yet. Not until she’d reconciled it in her own mind, figured out what she was going to do next. The admission of failure would be easier to face with a plan. Right?
Not that she had any prior experience with failure. Burkes didn’t fail. Period.