Page 49 of The Christmas Blueprint

“It’s a very large space,” Killian opened as the assistant left.

“Yes.” Jeffrey smiled. “Large enough for offices or some service-oriented retail below the creekfront apartments when we subdivide.”

Everything in him settled.

In a way it was a relief to have his suspicions confirmed, to know what he was really up against. “I was under the impression that it was to be a commercial space that would link the historic downtown with the waterfront and the rest of the former Applegate Mill complex. The planning commission—” he deliberately didn’t use Sophia’s name “—mentioned leaning toward a commercial marketplace with community space to draw in locals and tourists.”

“Community space.” Jeffrey Bane nearly spit coffee. He put down his mug. “What’s the park if not community space?” He rolled his eyes. Picked up his mug and thumped it down again; the coffee sloshed angrily. “I’m not passing up the opportunity to make bank on rents or sales of luxury view condos. Zhang’s planning to build a boutique hotel, an event space, and who knows what else he thinks he can pull off. We’ll see how far he goes with that.” Jeffrey laughed maliciously. “Do I look like a man who would sit around while the property values balloon andnottake advantage?”

No.

But Killian chose his words more carefully. “The city could potentially get a gold mine for free, but we have to dig out the gold,” he said.

Jeffrey waved his hand, dismissing the warning. “My development company will build the city’s project—Zhang’s too if he wants to get anything done, but on the gift of the storage facility, the city has to pay for any changes.”

“So you make money on both ends.” Killian whistled, loathing and admiration clashed as he realized what Sophia’s dream was up against.

He too had been absurdly naïve—and too focused on one element, not seeing all the moving pieces. He’d had that criticism before from a professor and a boss.

“Of course,” Jeffrey snapped at him, and sat back down after he’d half risen out of his seat during his short speech. “But the rents will come to the city,” he said smugly, “not to me personally, although I am called Mr. Bear Creek. My father was mayor for twenty years. My grandfather before him for thirty. I’m only in my first term. Imagine what I can do. Creekfront apartments, the rents rolling in month after month. Condos. Townhomes. Views of the creek, views of the valley and the mountains. A taste of small-town rural only a fifteen-minute drive to Medford where there are jobs, jobs, jobs.”

Sophia would freak. That was not at all what she was imagining.

“A commercial space would bring in monthly rent,” he pointed out. “And local jobs. Having some niche businesses—wine or cocktail bar, pop-up restaurants, spaces providing experiences will be a tourist draw that will bring in more money for the city coffers and opportunities for our local citizens and entrepreneurs.”

“Our,” the mayor scoffed. “You only just came back and none of those things are going to fill my coffers,” Jeffrey snapped. “Restaurants fail all the time. The profit margins are astronomically small. The mom-and-pop shops can’t pay what I want.”

A huge residential complex would change the character of the town, but it would also generate the need for more goods and services. But would people shop local or head to the big box stores and chain eateries in Medford? Clearly, Killian had more research to do on what would benefit the town, but he doubted that was what the mayor was after. Jeffrey only wanted what he wanted. And it was always a bigger slice of pie.

“Why didn’t you buy the entire property?” Killian asked. The one building Zhang had offered to donate to the city was large, but not large enough to create an apartment complex—even if they tore it down and built it up. As soon as he thought it, he realized he needed to memorize the city’s zoning laws and so much more.

Jeffrey made a face. “The Pfeiffer family trust wouldn’t sell. I don’t know what they were waiting for. The heirs lacked the money to develop, and the city and county taxes were stretching them thin, especially when Bear Creek incorporated the area last year.” Jeffrey’s smile turned crafty.

“But they sold to Zhang?” Killian kept his voice neutral but couldn’t resist needling Jeffrey a little.

Jeffrey’s mouth turned mutinous. “Yes. He’s making all these plans. But he has to get past my planning commission and my city planner.”

Ahhhhhh. Apparently, part of his job description was learning to think like a politician and become a Jeffrey Bane whisperer.

“So you think the building offer to the city is an appeasement—a bribe.”

“Now you’re on board.”

“So the donation really isn’t contingent on Zhang approving the plans from the planning department and commission?”

“Not if he wants to get anything else on the site built in the next fifty years.” Jeffrey leaned back in his chair. “So, Mr. City Planner and possibly City Architect, now we’re on the same page. No matter what happens. It’s a win-win for me. But you, Killian Flanagan, have the potential to win big. Or lose it all.”

“Let’s play.”

Chapter Fourteen

Jeffrey Bane’s wordsand veiled threats banged around in his brain that night when he and Harlow sat down to dinner with Riley, Zhang, and his grandfather at her Craftsman-style home that butted up to Bear Creek just a little out of town.

He hadn’t been expecting company—just Riley. But Riley had taken over—bringing groceries, a meal plan, and guests. She’d also gone on a cleaning spree and insisted that he use her bedroom. Harlow was thrilled with the cute house, especially with what she said could be a reading and drawing nook under the stairs.

Riley perked up at that as she dished out the chili she’d made. She mouthed something to him.

“What?”

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