Chapter 2: The Proposal
David
I’d been on a roll all morning. I’d just talked to Mrs. Wish—the owner of Wish Grocery and everyone’s honorary grandma—and the second to last person to cross off my list.
“I’m old,” she’d said. “I want to kick back and enjoy my grandchildren—all of them.” She pinched my cheek. “Sure, I’ll sell.”
I’d all but danced out of the store.
Goldie was the last one I needed to convince. I’d stopped by a couple times since I heard she was back in town, but both times she was tattooing. I didn’t want a tattoo, but making an appointment was the only way our very different schedules would align.
The years since high school had been extra good to her, finessing the perfection that had always been Theodora “Goldie” Mosley. The baggy black T-shirt she wore over biker shorts shouldn’t have been sexy, yet it hugged her curves in all the right ways. She’d been pretty in high school. In her thirties, she was downright stunning, her full lips painted purple, complementing her brown eyes and umber skin. Warmth lingered in those eyes as she gave my hand a squeeze. She was giving me all the “ask me out” vibes.
That prolonged eye contact was my cue to say, “So what are you doing for dinner tonight?” Except I was on a mission.
Before I could take her out, I had to cross her off my list.
Or, more specifically, her building.
I was gonna pitch her into selling her building to the town, and then I’d take her out—home run.
Even though I hadn’t been back in town long, I felt that familiar itch to prove myself. When I left, I’d been the kid whose dad died. When I came back, I was the new city planner who’d turned around a dying city. A small city, but still. It had gone from Brass City of the world, to most dangerous city in the state to, under my watch, thriving youthful utopia.
I could do the same for Stagwood Falls.
Fortunately for my hometown, we weren’t even on the list of dangerous places. We were, however, the emptiest Main Street in the state.
Goldie retrieved her hand, using it to tuck her braids behind her ear. “What’re you all deep in thought about?”
Time to get my head back into the game.
“I was just thinking how a lot’s changed since high school, and yet nothing’s changed,” I said. “I mean, here we are, me bugging you while you draw.”
She chuckled. “You were never bugging me.”
And we were back to that lingering eye contact.
When I pitched softball, it was all about timing, position, and speed. I needed to stay in the zone.
I cleared my throat. “How’s your grandpa?”
“He’s good,” she replied. “Torturing Sabella with his old dead bodies story.”
I laughed. “See? Nothing’s changed.”
“How’s your mom?”
“Still trying to convince me to stay with her instead of the house the town is loaning me.” I shook my head. “Never gonna happen. Did you know Benton’s staying with my mom now? In my old room, at that. Sometimes I think she’s trying to recreate our teen years,” I joked.
“I heard. Your mom means well, though.”
“I know.” Sometimes I forgot that Goldie wasn’t just a member of the dead dads club; she also belonged to the dead moms club. The other major difference between us was her parents were killed by a drunk driver, and my dad killed himself drinking. I was lucky I still had a mom, even if she was your typical overbearing Italian.
“How’s your sister?” Goldie asked, her pencil stroking across the page.
“Nic’s good. My niece is keeping her on her toes.” I grinned, thinking of the other night when I stopped by for dinner after work. My four-year-old niece LuLu was the best. That was why I’d moved back home. I’d done the whole living-by-myself-in-the-big-city thing in my twenties, and I’d enjoyed every moment of it. But I missed my family. It was weird not seeing them regularly when I was used to seeing them every day.
“She’s cute,” Goldie admitted. It did something to me, her asking about my family. “I ran into them at the grocery store.”
I raised my eyebrows and she laughed. “What?” I asked.
“Dude, I forgot how much those caterpillars distract me,” she teased. “And those dimples. Jesus.”
“I come by them honestly.” I wiggled my eyebrows, and she laughed again. The sound reverberated through me, settling in my marrow. In high school, I would’ve done anything to make her laugh. She was already beautiful, but when she laughed, pink tinged her copper cheeks and her face glowed. She’d toss her head back, braids flying in every direction, clapping her hands at my joke. In homeroom, I wasn’t just the second shortest kid in my freshman class. I was David Mosconi, the kid who could make her laugh. I still had it. We still had it, that instant connection.
“How are you not tied down by now?” she asked.
I smirked. She could tie me down any time.
But first, it was time to get to work.
Setting the sketch aside, Goldie tapped the screen of her phone a few times. A second later, Mastodon played through speakers I hadn’t noticed mounted to the walls.
“Their newest album,” I said, nodding in approval. “From the singles they released, I thought it was gonna be all over the place in a weird way, but hearing it from start to finish, it makes perfect sense.”
Her head snapped up, gaze zeroing in on me. “Yeah,” she said, surprised. “I thought the same thing.”
“Why are you so surprised?”
“I just . . .” She gave my suit an up and down glance.
“Thought I went all cookie-cutter? Nah. I became a city planner so I could afford concerts.”
“And real Timbs,” she added.
“And real Timbs,” I repeated with a laugh. The two of us were some of the only kids in our high school who didn’t have real Timberlands. Her grandfather and my widowed mom couldn’t afford anything other than Kmart work boots.
Our eyes met, and again I felt that old connection spark back to life. I saw my chance.
And watched as it slipped away.
“Where are you thinking of getting this cat?” she asked. “It’s kind of hard to draw without a reference or at least an idea of placement.”
Tattoos were more complicated than I’d thought.
“You know, I’m not sure.” I cleared my throat. “I’ve, uh, got to think about it a little more.”
“Take your time. Tattoos are forever . . .until I expand enough to get a laser for removal.” She winked. She slid the drawing into a folder marked with my name and, just like that, my hour was up.
We both stood at the same time. I traced her tattoos with my eyes, appreciating the gold line art flowers and geometric shapes that wound around her arms. Even back in high school, she stood out. Like me, she didn’t fit into a single clique. She had purple braids and a crystal stud in her nose, fake Timbs on her feet. I was in love.
“I’m glad you’re back. Stagwood’s gotten really stagnant, so your shop is refreshing,” I said.
“Thank you.”
“I’m gonna refresh Main Street, one block at a time,” I told her. “Starting with this one. Instead of a bunch of empty shops, it’s gonna be condos on top to draw in first-time home buyers.”
She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Condos?”
“I should’ve brought the concept art. They’ll fit in nicely,” I promised. “I’ve already got all the other shop owners on the block on board. You’re the last one I’m pitching to.”
“Pitching what?”
I leaned against a cabinet. “Sell me your building. The town, I mean. I’ll get you market value and you’ll be set. You can—”
She held up a hand. “Sell you my building?” She laughed. “You’re kidding, right? Where are Poppy, Kinsley, Sabella, and I all supposed to go?”
“Anywhere you want. Once you sell, you can afford to move into the Stagwood Heights neighborhood. It’s right on the lake. It’s beautiful.”
“I don’t care if it’s an actual palace, David,” she said. “There is no way we’re leaving. This building is more than just some dusty old shop to us. It’s our heart.”
I blinked. “So . . . you’re saying no?”
“I’m saying hell no.”
I replayed the last hour in my mind, analyzing where I went wrong. It didn’t make sense. All the other shop owners said yes as soon as I told them how much they stood to make.
That was where I’d dropped the ball. I hadn’t given her actual numbers. She’d thrown me off my game with her pretty smile and those biker shorts on that ass.
“Did I mention your building will sell for two hundred thousand? Cash—a nice down payment,” I said.
But she shook her head at me. “Nope. Never happening.” She lifted her eyebrows at me, as if expecting a rebuttal.
I had nothing.
I’d only counted on winning. It was a rookie mistake—one I wouldn’t make again.
I’d figure out a way to convince her. Maybe she just needed to see the official numbers on paper, in black and white. Who said no to $200,000 cash?
“David?” she called as I neared the lobby.
I turned around, the tightness in my chest loosening into the familiar warm sensation that always took over when I looked into her eyes. “Yeah?”
“It was nice seeing you,” she said softly.
An hour earlier, I would’ve been putty in her hands at hearing her say that. She’d effectively just thrown an L-shaped wrench into my winning streak. I’d been so close to saving our town, bringing us from an outdated lakeside summer tourist attraction to a modern year-round home to artists. I wished she could see what I saw: artisan studios and store-fronts where the creatives lived upstairs. It’d bring new blood to town and save us thousands in costly maintenance of crumbling “historic” buildings.
“You’ll see me again,” I said. “I don’t give up that easily.”
The stubborn tilt of her chin told me neither did she.
Everything Goldie touches turns to gold, so when the building that’s been in her family for generations is in trouble, her family calls on her to help save it. Moving back to her hometown and back in with her family comes with definite perks—like no more rent—and emotional baggage in the form of Goldie’s high school crush turned hottie David. When she sees him again, all those old feelings come rushing back—and are quickly dampened when she finds out he wants to tear down her building to build a “better” Main Street.
For as long as David can remember, Stagwood Falls has been a small-town summer vacation hotspot. It’s the kind of town that will charm the socks off of anyone who decides to drive through no matter the season, and it’s his job to make sure Stagwood Falls stands out on the map all year around. All he needs to do is convince the townspeople to get on board, even if it means making some sacrifices. When Goldie returns to Stagwood Falls, David is immediately drawn to her just as he was back in high school. This time around, he’ll do whatever it takes to get her attention. What David doesn’t expect is for Goldie to be so opposed to his new revitalization strategy that she’s hellbent on throwing a massive wrench in his plan.
A Touch of Gold
Stagwood Falls: Love in Ink Series
Book 1
Kobo Originals
