Unforgettable (Page 51)

“But what if it doesn’t?” I ask, panicked. “What will I do if he wins? The B&B will be ruined for sure!”

“You can’t think like that, not right now,” Dad insists. “The night before a big trial, I only ever let myself think positive. You have to trust yourself to make the best case possible. Then it’s all in the jury’s hands.”

I take a deep breath.

“And luck,” Dad adds, with a twinkle in his eye. “There’s always luck.”

I can only hope he’s right—and that luck is on my side at the meeting. Otherwise…

Otherwise, no amount of work and hope will make a difference. It all comes down to tomorrow.

20.

“Ready?” Dad asks, as we approach the front steps of the town hall.

“No.” I gulp, my stomach tied up in knots. The big day is here, and everyone’s arriving for the meeting. I don’t know whether to be nervous or relieved about the number of familiar faces I see filing inside: people I chatted to at the diner, guests from Nana’s funeral, and more. Maybe they’re here to support me—or maybe they just want a glimpse of the drama. Either way, I brace myself and follow them into the building.

Like most things in Beachwood Bay, the “town hall” actually serves many purposes. The old red-brick building is used for the tourist office, town library, and multi-purpose rooms too. As we head down the hallway, I can see a Mommy-and-Me yoga session in progress in one of the rooms, and a big display for summer reading. The meeting itself is taking place in one of the function rooms at the back; Nana’s old lawyer, Albus, greets us as we step into the room.

“Excellent turn-out,” he says, polishing his spectacles. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a meeting so well-attended!”

“As long as they’re here to vote for me,” I quip, awkward.

Albus chuckles. “Well, I can’t say anything about that. As a member of the council, I need to stay neutral until all the evidence has been heard. But between us…” He glances around, then gives me a friendly wink. “Good luck.”

He heads to the front of the room, where the members of the town council are taking their seats. “There you go,” Dad soothes me. “You’ve already got one vote sewn up.”

The butterflies in my stomach aren’t reassured.

“Everything’s right here.” Dad pats his briefcase. “I made two dozen extra copies too, so we can pass them out to everyone in the room. Although, I’m not sure we’ll have enough…”

The room is filling fast, people taking their seats on the rows of folding chairs.

“Should I go Xerox more?” I ask, my nerves growing. “Is there time? Crap, I should have prepared better—”

“Whoa, you need to calm down.” Dad pulls me to the side. “Take a deep breath. Everything’s going to be fine. I’ll go make some more copies, you say hello to everyone here.”

I gulp a lungful of air. “How do you do this every day in court?” I ask, envious of his poise.

Dad chuckles. “You get used to it, sweetheart. I was a wreck before my first big case. But I pulled it together,” he adds, seeing my panic. “And so will you. Just sit tight.”

He exits to make some more copies, and I try to distract myself by greeting everyone I recognize—and a few who I don’t. My guests from the B&B, the Petersons, are even here, wearing my campaign buttons, but there are a bunch of people huddled around with Hallie and some other people in fancy suits, glaring at me from across the room.

I try to quell my nerves. It’s just like law school, I tell myself. I did mock trials all the time: arguing my case, setting out the evidence. But then, it was all just play-acting for our professors. This time, it’s real.

The verdict will matter, whatever the result.

I catch sight of movement in the corner of my eye and turn in time to see Ash walk in. He’s looking serious, dressed in a button-down and suit pants, flanked by two associates, also dressed like they just stepped off a flight from New York. His brother, Dex, is with him too, and I see Alicia and Tegan enter behind them.

I send a wave, awkward. Alicia waves back, and mouths “good luck,” but Tegan gives me a wary look. I don’t blame her. I’m basically going to be standing up here and telling the town to reject her brother’s plans and everything he stands for.

I feel a pang of regret. I wish it didn’t have to be like this, but I don’t see what other choice I have to save the B&B.

Ash glances over and our eyes lock. Even after everything, I still feel that connection between us; as if only he can see exactly what I’m thinking and how I’m feeling. I could never explain it, and even now, with so much distance between us, I’m still struck by my body’s instinctive reaction.

But Ash looks away, his jaw set. He turns his back on me, and he couldn’t make his feelings more clear if he tried.

I try to ignore the bitter sting, but my heart aches. Just a few days ago, we were poised on the edge of something great, together, but now he’s acting like a stranger. I almost can’t believe we’ve shared so much: tender kisses and heartfelt confessions. That night in New York seems like a hundred years ago; our time together here in Beachwood Bay just as remote.

Everything is different now.

The mayor bangs a gavel and calls the meeting to order, just as my dad returns. He slides into a seat in the front row beside me, carrying a sheaf of information packs. “What’s the read on him?” he whispers, nodding to Mayor Sanders. A tall, good-natured man in his fifties with a Hawaiian-print shirt, the mayor is a regular at the diner—and loves Nana’s peach pie.