entire room staring after him. Including Ashley.
Oh, Lord. Ashley had witnessed the whole thing. And now she’d witness her mother crumbling and quitting and buckling under the weight of the oldest excuse of all.
I was duped by a sexy guy.
“You may speak now, Lacey,” Mayor Lennox said.
But everything in Lacey screamed not to.
C’mon, Lacey, you can’t do this now. Give up, go home, settle for less than you deserve.
Shut the hell up, demons.
Taking a deep breath, she dug for something she knew she had to have, with or without Clay Walker. Resolve. Tenacity. Dogged stubbornness not to let Charity Grambling win and leave Lacey Armstrong with one big excuse.
“This information is entirely irrelevant to what I’m asking for today,” she said, gesturing to the newspaper that was still being passed among the council members. “First of all, if you look closely at my presentation, there is no specific architectural firm attached to the plans and nothing has yet been filed with the state or county. All I want is to be on the agenda for September fifteenth, which will give me time to address these issues.”
“Not enough time,” Charity insisted.
Lacey closed her eyes, still mining inner strength. “That’s all the time I need,” she said.
“Is this man your architect and builder, Lacey?” George Masterson asked, his lip curled as he read the paper.
“I’m not sure who my architect is going to be,” she said firmly. “But it’s a moot point as far as the upcoming agenda.”
“I agree,” Paula said quickly. “Let’s put her on the agenda and move on.”
“I second that,” Rocco chimed in. “That account lifted off the Internet is questionable at best. Let her present, let her make her plea, and let her use who she wants and prepare to defend him on the fifteenth.” He drummed the table in front of him. “Let’s move it. There’s a Yankees game on in twenty minutes.”
“Sorry, but this newspaper clipping is enough for me to say no,” Masterson said.
“Please hear me out,” Lacey said, earning instant silence and all their attention. She searched her brain for her opening lines, for what she’d planned to say about her resort and all the jobs it could create and Mimosa Key’s need to get into the next century.
But she couldn’t think of anything. Except Ashley still sitting in the seat where David had left her.
Ashley.
All the feasibility notes, the town codes, and the target marketing points she’d made for this presentation just evaporated from her brain. None of them mattered, really.
“Six weeks ago, my home and business were wiped away in one storm,” she said quietly. “As many of you know, I stayed alive and kept my daughter safe in a bathtub with a mattress over our heads.”
A soft mumbling rolled through the room.
Yes, she did.
That’s a fact.
She was hit hard up there at Barefoot Bay.
Buoyed by the tiny bit of support, she kept talking. “The only thing that kept me going that night was the chance to realize a dream that I believe could be a long-term and positive change for my family and for this island. All I am asking for is a slot on your next meeting agenda to prove that to you. At that time, I assure you, I will have an architect, builder, contractor, and subcontractors who will all meet with the council’s approval. All I’m asking for is a chance.”
Every one of the council members stared at her.
“Let’s vote,” Sam finally said. “Raise your hand if you want to give Lacey Armstrong a slot on the September fifteenth agenda.”
All but George Masterson raised their hands. She only needed a majority, and she’d just gotten it.
“Thank you.” She gathered her portfolio and resisted the urge to gloat at Charity, nodding when Sam handed her the paper Clay had brought in to clear himself. She didn’t even look at it but walked down the aisle.
“Good work, Mom!” Ashley high-fived her when she reached them.
“Way to go, Lace!” Zoe called from the other side of the room. Tessa gave her two thumbs-up.
“Thanks.” She closed her fingers over Ashley’s hand and gave a squeeze. “I’ll be right back.”
Because she sure as hell wasn’t going to let Clay Walker slink away without a damn fine explanation. Then he could get the hell out of her life, thank you very much.
Chapter Twenty
God, Clay hated the taste of regret. And he was choking on the stuff right now.
He stuck his hands in his hair, cursing his stupidity. Across the parking lot, he saw David