The Story Of Us - Teri Wilson Page 0,3
self: work on my poker face.
“What is it?” her aunt said.
A huge cluster of red heart-shaped balloons bobbed behind Anita’s head, making her sudden frown seem even more at odds with the cheery surroundings. February was also the busiest month of the year for Anita’s Flowers. Jamie’s aunt had spent weeks already preparing for Valentine’s Day. Pink and red decorations covered just about every surface, from romantic Hallmark Valentine cards to glittery gift bags and pink carnations.
So. Many. Carnations.
It was lovely, really—if you were into the whole romantic hearts and flowers thing, which Jamie definitely was. Just not the actual romance part of the equation. Or at least, not for her. But why was she thinking about her love life, or lack thereof, at a time like this?
She slapped the flier onto the counter for her aunt to see.
Anita’s eyes grew wide. “When did you get this?”
“This morning. And I checked—every shop in the business district got one too.” Every single store. What were they planning on doing? Mowing down the entire neighborhood? “I’ll bet if you check your mail, you have one.”
Anita gathered her stack of mail from the end of the counter and flipped through its contents. Sure enough, a blue flier identical to the one Jamie had received was tucked among her other, less-intimidating mail.
It trembled in Aunt Anita’s hand as she unfolded it. “What do you think this means?”
Jamie took a deep breath. “I guess we’ll find out at the meeting.”
She read the bold print on the page one more time, just in case the letters had magically rearranged themselves into a more pleasant message.
Nope, no such luck. “But if this Ridley is a property development company…”
Anita sighed. “No, that can’t be good news for any of us.”
Chapter Two
Sawyer O’Dell stood at the head of the conference room in Ridley Property Development’s modern downtown high-rise in Portland, Oregon, and advanced his PowerPoint presentation to the final slide. An animated rendering of his design spun across twin flat-screen televisions, showing every detail of his plans for the Waterford business district.
Correction—his current plans. This elaborate architectural plan was technically a re-design, his second attempt to please the higher-ups at Ridley. Which was probably why he was sweating beneath his pressed button-down shirt and tailored dress slacks, although from the pleased expression of the woman sitting at the head of the table, he didn’t have much to worry about. All the late nights bent over his graphics tablet, sketching until his hand ached, had been worth it.
He was nailing this!
“So, as you can see, we will turn the Waterford business district into a mixed-use space, which will drive revenue for the entire town.” Sawyer paused, giving his client a chance to take everything in as the animated slide slowed to a stop.
He glanced down at the architectural model in the center of the conference table while he waited. The miniature building had taken him weeks to get just right. All the effort had been worthwhile, though. It was a perfect replica of his design, from the multiple floors of industrial-style loft apartments that topped the structure all the way down to the retail space at the street level. He’d even managed to find tiny trees that looked almost exactly like the hemlocks and Douglas firs that lined the streets in Waterford.
That particular detail had been important to Sawyer. Over a decade had passed since he’d set foot in his hometown, but he remembered it as clearly as if it had been yesterday—soft, damp earth beneath his feet, the cool, and fresh scent of pine needles and trees so lush and green that he’d never seen anything like them, before or since.
He remembered more, too. He remembered how quaint and cozy the old houses in Waterford felt, tucked beneath the shadow of one of the most ancient cedar forests in the Pacific Northwest. He remembered learning to toss pizza dough high in the air at his first summer job. He remembered Sundae Madness at his favorite ice cream stand by the lake.
He remembered sharing those sundaes with Jamie Vaughn. She’d been his high school sweetheart, his very first love.
Since his underwhelming breakup with Sarah a few months ago, he’d even wondered if Jamie might have been his only love. But he’d chalked that thought up to the simple fact that he’d been neck-deep in Waterford nostalgia lately. It was normal to feel a bit sentimental while working on a project for his hometown, right?
“I like the adjustment,” Dana Sutton, Vice