Page 53 of The Christmas Blueprint

Killian turned to Zhang. “You have offered to donate the building to the city, but were there specific stipulations?” Killian broke off and made a hand gesture. “I don’t really know what the agreement was. The mayor wasn’t clear. I haven’t seen any paperwork. Is the donation contingent on something? Do you have an idea in your mind that complements what you are planning for the rest of the complex?”

All attention shifted to Zhang except his grandfather’s. He had finished eating and was playing tick-tack-toe on the Buddha board with Harlow. They had to speed play because the water would dry up fairly quickly. Harlow bounced in her seat, waiting for her turn to take the brush and dash off an X.

They looked so cute together that Sophia had to remind herself to listen to what Zhang had to say. She was on the planning commission. She had so many schemes and dreams, but something about the multi-generations under a roof—friends, family, and lovers, and a child in the mix, made her feel like this Christmas was going to be extra emotionally warm and poignant.

And possibly contentious, she admitted, looking back at Killian, who leaned forward in his chair, knee bouncing under the table, thick brows raised in expectation.

“I am not an architect,” Zhang began. “Nor an expert on city planning or what would best benefit Bear Creek for the next five, ten, fifteen years, although I do get regularly schooled in town history and town growth arcs.” A smile twitched as he looked at Riley, and then he raised his glass to Sophia before taking a sip.

“I know Bane wanted the property for years, but he only lowballs and uses his power and influence as mayor to squeeze people out of property he wants and doesn’t allow a fair return on their investment, so I imagine he is going to try to stop my project at every turn.”

Sophia noted that Killian’s tense shoulders relaxed a fraction.

“So the building donation is an attempt at appeasement? The city gets an income-generating building, and you get your plans green-lighted?”

“The donation was good for tax purposes, but it was Riley and Sophia’s idea.”

“Really.” Killian looked directly at her for the first time since they’d started dinner.

“Ideas, I do have them,” she said lightly. “And with just a business and marketing two-year certification program from the local community college,” Sophia said, and then instantly regretted it.

Killian opened his mouth, looked down the table at Harlow and closed it again.

She’d need to apologize for mocking his education later. He’d worked hard for it, paid for it himself. She didn’t even know where her attack had come from. Yes, she’d wanted desperately to go to Southern Oregon University and study studio arts and be an artist and open a gallery. But even with a scholarship and working two jobs, the cost had been too much for her to afford. She’d been exhausted, stressed, and financially struggling, and her father had been outraged that she would go into debt for an art degree.

“Art!” he’d shouted over and over like it was top of the list of foul curse words hurled at the gods. “Art is a waste of time. Food on the table is what matters.”

So she’d quit after the first quarter, worked in the Medford Walmart during the day and waitressed at night for a few years, shoved aside her art dreams and instead took a couple classes at the local community college each semester. She was happy. Proud of her accomplishments. So why had she tossed Killian’s educational accomplishments back in his face like he was arrogantly judging her? He never had.

Something to think about later.

“Is the plan that the planning commission and I take to the city council for approval, contingent on anything specific?” Killian circled back. “Sophia has been sharing her ideas, but we don’t have anything drawn up yet. I need to get myself up to speed on quite a lot,” he said.

Sophia felt another bruising punch to her heart.

Why had she mocked his education? Assumed that he was going to sell out her plan to appease the mayor? She never struck first or tried to hurt anyone. It bothered her to the point that she was struggling to sit still. She rose. She could start clearing the table, craft an apology for later.

“Leave it,” Riley said. “We’re talking about your Mill Market—finally with people who can help to make your dreams a reality.”

Sophia lowered herself back to her chair and laid her hand over Killian’s forearm. He looked at her hand. She felt the flex of muscle. Then he looked up at her. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I’m not sure what came over me,” she admitted.

“You can mea culpa me later.” Killian winked. “Preferably with an apology coffee tomorrow morning.”

His smile nearly knocked her from her chair. He was so dang appealing. And the light in his green eyes helped the shadow of guilt slip off her shoulders.

“Ugh, don’t be nice to him,” Riley groused. “Tell him about the bridge.”

“The bridge?” Killian echoed.

“With last year’s storm, the one footbridge that spanned Bear Creek and led to the other side of River Bend Park where the big covered area is, washed away and the enclosure was partially destroyed, which meant that our town no longer had a community space for the outdoor farmer’s market, the Christmas Market and our summers in the park concert and art series,” Riley said. “Bane said the city didn’t have money to replace it. Sophia launched a fundraising campaign—successfully of course—and Zhang stepped in to match funds.”

“I’m beginning to see where this is heading,” Killian said, stretching out and resting his arm on the back of Sophia’s chair—not touching of course, but still Sophia felt highly aware of him. “The city owns the park.”

“And part of the county, but in Bane’s brain, it’s all his,” Riley said.

“And with no way to get across Bear Creek to the park for several miles, the land is pretty much useless to any small, local developer,” Killian mused.

“But not to one with big bucks and political sway.” Zhang took a sip of his wine.

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