Page 26

Now I understand. Rachel introduced me as the street’s generous new billionaire neighbor, then invited every business owner to bring me their problems. She wants to make being her neighbor so expensive and inconvenient that I give up the title.

I should be furious. Part of me is. But I can’t help admiring her nerve. If she thinks an eighty-thousand-dollar drain and a long list of complaints will scare me away, she’s about to be disappointed.

“Send Rachel the inspection report,” I tell Leo. “She’ll make sure I get it. We’ll take care of the drain.”

Rachel turns to me, and for the first time tonight, she looks unsure.

I smile at her, then face the room again. “Anything else?”

Three more hands rise.

Her confidence returns at once. She gives me a sweet smile and turns to a fresh page.

For fuck’s sake.

The meeting continues for another twenty minutes. Each time I think we’re finished, someone finds another problem for me to solve: a cracked curb outside the grocer, faded lines around the delivery zone, a street sign hidden behind an overgrown tree.

Rachel writes down every one.

By the time the last person finishes, three pages of my notepad are covered in her small, neat handwriting. She turns to a fourth page and looks around the room, her pen ready.

“Anything else?”

A few people glance at one another, but no hands rise. She waits several seconds.

“Are you sure?” she asks.

I turn my head and look at her. She ignores me, though I can see the disappointment hiding behind her pleasant expression.

When no one offers another complaint, she lowers the pen and closes the notepad. “I suppose that’s everything. Thank you all for coming.”

People stand and gather their coats. Several stop to shake my hand before leaving. Angela tells me she looks forward to hearing from my team, while Leo presses two tickets for next month’s show into my hand.

Rachel presses my notepad in my hand and walks toward the doors with the last few people, smiling as if she hasn’t just handed me a list of problems worth more than a hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

“Ms. Hartwell.”

Rachel pauses near the door. I wait for the last person to leave, then cross the room to her.

“That was cute.”

“What was?”

“The meeting.”

“It was just a neighborhood meeting.” She gives me an innocent smile. “You’ve spent days telling everyone what a generous neighbor you plan to be. I thought you might enjoy the chance to prove it.”

“How thoughtful of you.”

“Now they expect you to fix everything.” Her smile grows. “If you don’t, I doubt you’ll be their favorite neighbor. I know how important that title is to you.”

She thinks she has me.

I flip through the three pages she filled in my notepad. She recorded every name, business and problem in clear detail.

Fixing all of this will cost money, but not enough to matter beside a four-hundred-million-dollar development. Rachel hasn’t handed me a burden. She’s given me a list of exactly what matters to everyone on this street. Solving these problems will earn Voss more goodwill than the money could buy anywhere else.

“You’ve saved me a lot of trouble, Rachel.”