“Spending money?” Bud said. “Yeah, Walter. Yeah, I do. New property taxes. New sales taxes and customers for our businesses—including yours, I might add. The bluegrass festival gets bigger every year, but it barely pays for itself. Do you have any ideas for funding the new fire trucks we need? You think the citrus co-op is gonna pay for them out of its own pocket? What about the new plumbing we need at the high school? You think it’d be better if our kids get bussed thirty miles to Metlin ’cause we can only afford to operate the elementary and junior high?”
Cary didn’t have the extra cash to donate a whole damn fire truck. They were only a couple of years out of the worst drought in a century. And no one in town knew what to do about the school. He hated to admit it, but Bud had a point.
“You could fund those by loosening up a single restriction,” Melissa said. “People up in Foster Valley—”
“I will not have weed sold in this town!” Bud’s face was red. “No one wants that.”
“No one” was an exaggeration, but Cary knew the idea of a cannabis dispensary in Oakville wasn’t popular, even though evidence showed that it would bring in a massive amount of tax money with little to no investment from the town.
The big question was, would adding three thousand new residents prove any more popular?
Cary stood up and folded his arms over his chest. “You know, no offense to Mr. Fontaine, but I want to see details of all this in writing. Isn’t that in the town charter? If a new zoning proposal has been made to the council, then it’s part of the public record. I want a copy. I want to read through the details of what this holding company is actually proposing, down to the fine print. And I bet I’m not the only one.”
Melissa rose. “Agreed. I don’t need someone coming in and telling me what the plan is. I want to read it for myself.”
Tammy Barber leaned forward. “I make a motion to table any vote about JPR Holdings and the Allen Ranch development until the proposal has been submitted to the public for review.”
Les Arthur said, “I second that motion.”
Bud Rogers’s face was sour. But not even Bud could buck protocol. “All those in favor of Tammy’s motion to delay the vote?”
Four hands at the front table went up.
“All those opposed?”
Three hands—including Bud’s—went up.
“The motion passes.” Bud scowled. “Tammy, you’re the recorder. I’ll let you sort this out. Meeting adjourned.”
The meeting broke up with the two dozen attendees forming small groups, many of them walking to the front to talk to Tammy.
Cary looked at Melissa. “I have a feeling Tammy’s gonna be making a few photocopies this week.”
“Ya think?” Melissa narrowed her eyes at Bud, who was talking to Kevin Fontaine. “I have a feeling that next month’s meeting might be a little more crowded.”
Cary scanned the angry faces milling around the room and the brittle smile on Fontaine’s face. He was keeping the polite veneer, but it was as fake as his teeth. “Agreed.”
“I’m gonna go.” Melissa picked up the purse of mysteries. “I want to call a couple of people on the coast.”
“I’ll walk you out.” He followed her out to her truck and waited while she got in. “You gonna tell your mom about this?”
“Yeah. Aren’t you?”
“Oh, my mom is gonna be pissed.” Cary stepped back as she shut her door. He motioned for her to roll down the window, then said, “You think the Allen family knows about all this?”
Gus Allen had sold the land fifteen or twenty years ago to move into town and be closer to his family, none of whom were interested in running the old ranch. His son, Jeremy, was Cary’s regular climbing partner.
“I doubt it,” Melissa said. “Gus’d be pissed.”
“Think I should tell Jeremy about this?”
Melissa leaned on the steering wheel. “I don’t know if Gus could do anything about it. He’ll hear about it eventually, but he sold the land. It’s not up to him anymore.”
“This isn’t going to happen.” Cary patted the side of her truck. “You know that, right? There’s no way people are going to vote to let this pass.”
“Maybe not this,” Melissa said. “But what if they come back and say they only want to do a thousand houses? Or five hundred? Bud’s right. The town needs money.”
Cary sighed. “I don’t want to believe you, but when I bet against you, I usually lose.”