What She'd Do for Love (3 page)

“Everyone’s talking about the new highway,” she said. “It’s really disrupting everyone’s life. Some of the businesses are talking about moving to a new shopping center near the new route. If they don’t, they’ll probably go out of business.”

“They have to go where the customers are,” Dad said.

“But they shouldn’t have to move,” Christa said. “The state should have kept the highway close to town, instead of bypassing Cedar Grove altogether.”

“I’m sure they had their reasons for choosing the route they did.” Dad washed his hands at the kitchen sink, then dried them on a dish towel. “Those pies look good, Adi.” He kissed his wife’s cheek.

“Behave yourself and I might let you have some,” she said, her smile taking any sting out of the words. She turned to Christa. “While you were in town, did you happen to run into Ryder Oakes?”

So she hadn’t imagined Ryder’s familiarity with her parents. “I met him,” she said. “How do you know him?”

“Oh, we met somewhere in town.” Mom gave a vague wave. “Such a nice young man, and about your age.”

Of course. Her mother saw Ryder Oakes as a potential match for her twenty-six-year-old-and-still-single daughter. “Paul Raybourn at the bank introduced me to Ryder,” she said.

“What did you think? He’s very handsome, isn’t he?”

“He is.” She couldn’t very well lie; with that thick sandy hair, brilliant blue eyes, dimpled smile and broad shoulders, Ryder was classically handsome. And he seemed like a nice guy. “But I really don’t have time to date anyone while I’m here. I have to focus on finding a new job, and a new place to live after that. Besides, Ryder is probably already involved with someone else.” The great guys always were.

“I’m sure he isn’t,” Mom said. “I think he’s been out with a few women, but Etta Mae says he’s never come into the café with the same woman twice. And did you know he went to the University of Texas, too?”

“Paul mentioned it.” As if graduating from the same university guaranteed they’d hit it off.

“Ryder has a good head on his shoulders. I like him.”

Christa stared at her father. This assessment of a stranger was the equivalent of the Pope’s blessing—at least in her house. Dad wasn’t one to throw around praise, and over the years Christa couldn’t remember him having much to say about any of the boys and men she’d dated. “How do you know Ryder?” she asked.

“Oh, we’ve talked a time or two.” He turned away. “Call me when supper’s ready.”

“How does Dad know Ryder Oakes?” Christa asked after her father had left the room. The casual acquaintance her mom had alluded to didn’t add up to the praise Dad had given the man.

Mom lifted the lid on the slow cooker and studied the roast. “I suppose they ran into each other in town. At Cattlemen’s Club meetings and things like that.” She reached for the salt shaker.

“But Ryder isn’t a rancher,” Christa said. “Why would he be at a Cattlemen’s Club meeting?”

Mom replaced the lid on the cooker. “I don’t know, dear. Why don’t you go freshen up? I’ll call you when supper’s ready.”

“I can help, Mom. Just tell me what to do.”

“That’s all right, dear. Go on.” She made shooing motions with her hand.

Christa started to argue, but decided to give in, for tonight, at least. She drifted into the living room, where Dad had assumed his usual place in his recliner, Jet in his lap.

“Kelly told me there’s a public meeting tonight about the new highway,” Christa said as she settled onto the sofa. “I’m thinking of going.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“Maybe you and Mom would like to go with me.”

“I don’t think so, honey.” He stroked the dog, whose head was resting on her dad’s knee.

“Aren’t you curious to know what the state has to say? How they can justify destroying the town?”

“Cedar Grove was dying a slow death before the idea of this highway project ever came along,” Dad said. “The new highway could actually be a good thing.”

“I don’t see how.” Her father’s easy acceptance of such a big change bothered her. He’d lived in Cedar Grove all his life; was he really content to let the town just fade away?

“Maybe going to the meeting tonight will help you see things in a different light,” Dad said.

“Maybe.” Though she doubted it. Her father’s eyes were already closed. Was he really napping, or merely avoiding discussing this with her?

She stood. “I guess I’ll go freshen up before dinner.”

“Say hello to Ryder for me when you see him tonight.”

She froze halfway to the door. “I’m going to the meeting with Kelly, Dad. I won’t be seeing Ryder.” Did he think the meeting was some kind of excuse for a secret rendezvous with Ryder Oakes? She hadn’t done that kind of thing since she was in high school. Had her dad forgotten she was a grown woman—a woman who wasn’t interested in dating right now?

“Oh, I imagine you’ll run into him.”

She would never have used the word ‘smug’ to describe her father, but that’s exactly how he looked right now. As if he knew something she didn’t.

Then again, both her parents had been acting strange ever since she’d arrived home. She couldn’t help but feel they were hiding something from her, but what?

* * *

R
YDER
LOOKED
OUT
over the school auditorium which, as he’d expected, was filled with what must be ninety percent of the people who lived in or near Cedar Grove. From his position in the wings of the stage he could see men in checked shirts and cowboy hats standing along the back wall and children racing up and down the aisles.

A trio of women in summer dresses moved down the front row and he couldn’t keep back a smile as he recognized Christa Montgomery, in a sleeveless, flowered shift that showed off tanned arms. She was just as lovely as he remembered. Maybe after the meeting he’d find her and exchange a few words. He’d try to gauge her interest in a casual, dating relationship—no strings attached. Since she only planned to stay in town a little while, he didn’t have to worry she’d expect any long-term commitment from him. Spending more time with her would certainly make his own stay in Cedar Grove more pleasant.

“You ready to get this show on the road?” The high school principal, who was serving as the night’s master of ceremonies, asked.

Ryder nodded. “Let’s not keep people waiting.”

While the principal droned on about the need to listen quietly and then ask questions, Ryder studied Christa. She sat next to a younger woman who had curly hair. The curly-haired woman did all the talking, while Christa studied the large map showing the highway route that was projected onto a screen in front of the stage. She frowned at the map, looking more severe. Apparently, she wasn’t pleased.

He understood people’s objections, but he figured she’d feel differently once he’d made his case for the project.

“And now here’s Ryder Oakes. Mr. Oakes is the chief engineer overseeing this project. He’s going to say a few words and answer your questions.”

Ryder straightened his shoulders and strode onto the stage. He wore pressed khakis and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Nothing too fancy. He was a working man, just like most of these people. A man working to make their lives better, though not all of them saw this yet.

“The new highway, to be known as Spur Eighty-seven, is going to bring a lot of changes to life in Cedar Grove,” he began. “And change isn’t always easy. As humans, most of us are programmed to not like change. But sometimes change is good. When we switched from using horses to cars for transportation, most people didn’t like it at first. Yet how many of us would give up our cars now? We still have horses, but we use them for recreation, and to work in situations where cars don’t make sense.”

A few people nodded. Many of them still worked with horses every day.

“Some of you are worried that your town will die without the traffic a highway brings to it,” he continued. “More people will use the new road and forgo the back way that runs through your town. But I don’t think Cedar Grove will die. New people will come to live near the highway, and they will want to shop and use the services in town, as well as a place to take their kids on Saturday afternoons. You’ll have the opportunity to expand and add new businesses.

“You’ve probably had friends and family who have left town to live in the city, closer to jobs. The highway will make the commute to Dallas faster and easier, so some of those friends and family will move back home. Others won’t have to leave to find work. The state is also offering grants to rural transportation districts to establish bus service between rural areas and the city. That’s something that could make commuting even more affordable and easier.”

He set aside his sheaf of notes. “That’s all I have to say by way of introduction. Now I want to hear your comments and questions.”

Christa was one of the first people to raise her hand. He pointed to her. “Ms. Montgomery?”

She stood. “You paint a rosy picture of happy families and the town growing. But isn’t it just as likely—more likely, even—that those families will go to Dallas for recreation? They’ll shop in the big box stores in the city, where they can get cheaper prices. They won’t patronize a small town to which they feel no connection.”

“That might happen,” he conceded. “But while those families may not have the roots here that you and your family have, everyone craves connection. Towns like Cedar Grove hold a strong attraction for people who are looking to be a part of a community. If you reach out to those families and give them a reason to shop here—to be a part of your lives—I believe they will come.”

She opened her mouth as if to say something else, but the older woman on the other side of the curly-haired woman rose to her feet. “It’s all well and good to talk about what a great community we are now,” she said. “That doesn’t make up for the state coming in with the route for the highway already laid out and not even consulting us. You bought the land for the route at bargain prices, cutting ranches in two, even forcing families to move out of their homes altogether.”

“Everyone who sold to the state did so voluntarily,” Ryder said. “At a time when the real estate market is severely depressed, we have offered the best price possible.”

Objections rose from several quarters of the room. The principal stepped forward. “Everybody settle down,” he said. “This is supposed to be a calm discussion.”

From there Ryder moved on to answering questions about the new shopping center and housing development. Could the town annex the land to add to their tax base? Would those families be in the Cedar Grove school district? “I’m not part of the local government or school district,” he said. “But I believe the answer to both those questions is yes.”

More murmurs rose as the possibility of more money in the town coffers and growth in local schools registered. “So when are you going to get started?” one man asked.

“We hope to break ground in a couple of weeks,” Ryder said. “Though it may take a bit longer to close the deals for the last of the right of way. But we want to get started as soon as possible, while the weather is on our side.”

Others asked questions about traffic, the effect on local wildlife, fencing along the highway, and even trash pickup. Ryder answered as best he could. Christa raised her hand again and he called on her. He liked that she was still engaged in the discussion. And he liked the way her expression became so passionate and intense as she confronted him. “Why was this route chosen for the highway?” she asked. “Why not something closer to town?”

“Good question,” he said. He picked up a pointer and carried it to the projected map. “It’s a matter of geography. There’s a formation here, alongside the town.” He pointed to an area that would bring the highway much nearer to Cedar Grove. “There’s a granite uplift sitting over an underwater reservoir—an aquifer. Building here would require blasting through the granite—an expensive process. The probability of opening fissures to the aquifer is strong. At a minimum, that would cause problems with flooding of the project, requiring expensive dams, pumps and greatly increasing both the timeline and the cost of the project. At worst, it could have disastrous consequences for the local water supply.”

Murmurs rose from the crowd. After three years of drought, water was more valuable than oil to these people. They wouldn’t want to risk losing a drop, much less a whole aquifer.

“What about on the other side of town?” Christa asked. “Couldn’t you have routed the highway there?”

“Taking the highway in that direction makes the route longer and adds to the expense,” he said. “Our goal was to shorten the distance to the city and to do so as economically as possible.”

“And we end up paying the cost.” But she sat down, still frowning. Ryder’s heart sank. So much for him winning her over.

The questions wound down. “I think that’s all we have time for,” the principal concluded.

“If you have any more questions, you can catch me around town,” Ryder said. “If I don’t know the answer, I’ll find someone who does.”

As people moved out of the auditorium, he left the stage and slipped past a pair of men who looked as if they wanted to waylay him. Christa stood with her back to him, talking with her curly-headed friend. “He doesn’t care about the people here,” she said. “It’s all cold logic to him. Just the facts, ma’am.”

The words stung. He could have argued that basing decisions on facts and logic was more sensible than following blind emotion, but she wouldn’t have listened. He needed more time to win her over to his point of view. He intercepted her as she stepped into the aisle. “You asked good questions tonight,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you more—maybe over coffee?”

“I don’t know.” Her gaze slid sideways, avoiding him. “My parents...”

“Your parents will be snug in bed, watching crime dramas,” her curly haired friend said. “I know because they’re just like my mom.”

“Kelly, have you met Ryder? Ryder, this is Kelly Jepson.” Christa made the introduction.

Ryder nodded to Kelly, but focused on Christa once more. “It’s just coffee,” he said, wanting to reassure her, in case she suspected him of ulterior moments. “I’m just trying to avoid going back to my empty apartment. I’m not a fan of crime dramas.”