new life Melody had grabbed with everything she had. In the town she’d thought a part of her past, she’d found her future and more happiness and fulfillment than she’d ever thought possible.
“I’ll be damned if some spooky-eyed Irish devil is going to screw things up now.”
With that thought bolstering her, she squared her shoulders and headed back to the kitchen area to face the first disaster of the morning. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do about the second one.
She’d had every intention of being at the town council meeting, along with a number of the town square business owners. The news of Lionel’s bold new plans for the town—which had turned out to be Griffin’s brainchild—had leaked out about a month ago and spread like wildfire. The speculation was that Lionel had known the truth about Trudy’s bastard child all along, and had, in fact, gone to great lengths to keep it quiet. For decades. When he announced he was naming Griffin the heir who would be stepping forward to assist in guiding the future of Hamilton Industries, it had been the biggest scandal to hit the town in as long as anyone could remember.
Thomas Griffin Gallagher—and, rightfully, also a Haversham—was reputedly a mini-Lionel in his own right, already well on his way to establishing a burgeoning empire of his own in the U.K. His specialty, so the nosy hens of Hamilton had ferreted out almost before he’d set foot on American soil, was finding new ways to market and brand old concepts, old businesses, even entire old towns, and revitalize them into something prosperous, thriving. All for a percentage, of course.
He’d spun himself to be the pied piper of revitalization, a veritable Extreme Town Makeover magician. Until you dug a little deeper and discovered that not one of those little businesses, brands, or towns remotely resembled what it had been, once the reincarnation was complete. More prosperous? Sure. But lost in the reconstructed and homogenized shuffle was what had made the businesses, brands, and towns special in the first place. Melody understood in some of those cases, without change, there would have been no corporation, brand, or village left to save. It wasn’t the case here. Hamilton wasn’t failing.
There was a difference between saving a sinking ship…and changing things purely for greed and the desire of more-more-more.
Melody didn’t care if Griffin took on the expansion of Hamilton Industries’ global prospects, but as far as she was concerned, he could leave the town of Hamilton itself right the hell alone. “I just want the town I already have,” Melody grumbled, as she started clearing the mess in the back room. She had enough cupcakes in reserve to cover the centennial birthday, but it would leave her shop empty of its namesake treats…and none of the reserve cupcakes had been decorated as yet.
After Melody had scraped the last of the dumped cupcakes and bigger cakes that had been on the bottom rack into the trash and shoved all the trays into the industrial-size sink, she got the mop to start on the floors. “Fondant on floors is so much fun to clean.”
She blew her hair out of her face—again—indulged in another short swearing session as she looked at the green and pink slime coating her floors, then got over it and got down to work. As she started scrubbing she supposed she should be thankful the town meeting was keeping her shop thin of customers.
She needed to be at that town council meeting, to hear, firsthand from the man himself, exactly what the proposed changes were going to be for Hamilton, and to join ranks with the other shopkeepers to make sure their voices were heard, and heard loudly, in dissent.
It wasn’t that she was opposed to finding ways to improve the financial bottom line of Hamilton. Lionel Hamilton and his predecessors had created the economic center that was still, literally, Hamilton town square. What had grown into Hamilton Hardware, Hamilton Automotive, Hamilton Gas, and even Hamilton Herefords over the past century had become Hamilton Industries, an ever-expanding conglomerate of business, both local and countywide, with Lionel’s personal investments reaching across the country, and beyond, as far as the Pacific Rim.
Though its ever-growing business center was parked right outside the town limits, the town itself had never lost its old-time quaint charm. It was, to her mind, the absolute best of both worlds. Unique, diverse, yet traditional and close-knit.
Then Lionel had to go and introduce a land shark into their otherwise peaceful and nonthreatening waters. A man who was going to take their unique big-industry/small-town dynamic and turn it into some kind of global, international theme park. She might make cupcakes for a living, but that didn’t mean she wanted to live in a cookie-cutter world.
Muttering under her breath again as she got the last of the fondant off the floor, she emptied the rolling bucket and filled it with a disinfectant cleanser. “Lovely scent to greet my customers, first thing in the morning.” She glanced up at the wall clock, then mentally juggled her commitments for the next forty-eight hours. The shop hadn’t had a single customer this morning—if she didn’t count the visit from the devil.
She glanced back at the clock again, then finished cleaning up, before scrubbing her own hands and finally taking off her chef’s coat. She’d close the shop for three hours, hit the town meeting, then double back and reopen to catch the after-school/end-of-workday crowd. It wouldn’t leave her any time to bake or decorate, but she could put in an all-nighter and get caught up. Eventually, things would even out. They always did.
3
Griffin stood to the side of the wide screen that filled most of the high school auditorium stage and narrated as pictures of his planned future for Hamilton scrolled across the screen. “By diversifying, and creating a unified theme for your village and the independent shops that line your charming town square, we can create a unique environment that will draw in not only your average American tourists, but travelers from far beyond your county lines, state lines, and even the shores of your country.”
He was careful not to lay it on too thick, knowing better than most never to talk down to or underestimate an audience. The herd mentality was a good thing when it worked in his favor, but could quite easily shift against him. Then all his carefully laid plans would blow up in his face. “We don’t want to change what makes your shops, your village, special. We want to focus on that, figure out what it is that makes the charming atmosphere you’ve created, then capitalize on it, smooth away the rough edges, and make what you’ve worked so hard to build a bright and shiny showpiece. You’re sitting on a veritable gold mine here.”
He scanned the audience, trying to gauge his relative success. Folks were nodding, sitting comfortably in their seats, seemingly willing to hear him out, even eager in some cases. More smiles than frowns, which was very good indeed, but he’d be happy with simply knowing their minds were open to change. He noted the door opening in the back of the auditorium, and stuttered over his next sentence as he spied the lovely cupcake baker slipping in and taking a seat on the aisle. He lost another critical moment wondering what she’d done to overcome her early morning crisis, or if she’d simply locked the door and decided to deal with it later.
The crowd began to murmur, and he quickly shifted his thoughts back to the far more important matter at hand. “This presentation is a preview of the more detailed information that will be coming your way at the official town hall meeting the end of this week. At that time we will encourage your questions and do our best to answer them, as well as allay any concerns you might have as to how these changes are going to affect you and your businesses personally.” The crowd started to murmur in earnest, and he lifted a hand to stall what appeared to be the start of some questions and hand raising. “I don’t wish to put any of you off, but I won’t be taking questions this morning. I have brochures and printed information, detailing everything I’ve shown you and gone over this morning. My hope—our hope—is that you will
