Chapter 3 - A Seat at the Table
Tessa charged the group a reduced consultation fee.
Each vendor contributed what they could, and she wrote down the arrangement before discussing the case.
Claire appreciated that more than any promise.
For once, nobody expected gratitude in advance.
“There are two issues,” Tessa explained. “Whether these demands are authorized, and whether the city followed its own process when suspending you.”
“Can they close us while we argue?” Theo asked.
“They’ve tried. Our first job is to challenge that quickly.”
Maya slid her invoice across the table.
Tessa read the company name.
Civic Transition Services.
“Did they give you a contract?”
“No.”
“Did you choose to hire them?”
Maya shook her head.
“Nolan said I needed their help.”
“Did he say you could use someone else?”
“No.”
Tessa made a note.
Then she looked at Claire.
“Your father had this location for thirty-one years?”
“Yes.”
“Under annual permits the whole time?”
“I think so.”
“You think so?”
Claire felt embarrassed.
“He handled the paperwork until he got sick.”
Tessa’s voice softened.
“Then we find out. Don’t guess when there may be records.”
The following morning, Claire opened every drawer in her father’s house.
She found appliance manuals for appliances they no longer owned.
Receipts from tires purchased fifteen years earlier.
An envelope containing her first lost tooth.
No master agreement.
No explanation for why he had always called the arches “our little stubborn neighborhood.”
At eleven, Daniel knocked.
Claire saw him through the screen door and considered pretending she was out.
Instead, she stepped onto the porch.
“I didn’t give you my address.”
“You mentioned this street once. I asked Maya whether she would check with you. She said you knew I might come.”
Claire remembered Maya’s message, unread among a dozen others.
She folded her arms.
“What do you want?”
“To answer the question you asked.”
“Which one?”
“Why Warren Hale works with me.”
He remained at the bottom of the steps.
She did not invite him higher.
Daniel explained the company.
He had founded it twelve years earlier after working in commercial finance. Hale had joined as the partner responsible for municipal projects.
Daniel reviewed financing and broad proposals.
Hale handled local negotiations.
The arrangement had been profitable.
It had also allowed Daniel to feel informed while staying far from the people affected.
“You make that sound almost reasonable,” Claire said.
“It stopped sounding reasonable to me yesterday.”
“What did you approve?”
“A preliminary plan. Funding for studies. An agreement contingent on city approval.”
“Did it show us?”
“It showed vendor accommodations.”
“Chairs aren’t accommodations. Businesses have customers.”
He looked at her.
“I understand the difference now.”
“No. You’ve heard the difference.”
He accepted the correction.
That irritated her less than she wanted it to.
“I’ve requested all records related to vendor outreach,” he continued. “I also disclosed Nolan’s demand to our outside counsel.”
“Your lawyer works for your company.”
“Yes.”
“Then don’t confuse that with helping us.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
She studied him.
“Good.”
He took a folder from his briefcase and placed it on the porch railing.
“The public project documents. The versions I received. Tessa should have them.”
Claire did not touch the folder yet.
“Does Hale know you brought these?”
“He knows I’m asking questions.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No.”
A gust of wind lifted the corner of the top page.
Daniel placed a small stone over it.
Then he turned to leave.
“Wait.”
He stopped.
Claire looked at the expensive shoes beneath his gray trousers.
“How many people are like you?”
“What do you mean?”
“People who sign something and never walk over to see who’s standing underneath it.”
He took a long breath.
“More than there should be.”
After he left, Claire called Tessa.
The attorney reviewed the documents that afternoon.
An hour later, she called back.
“There’s a reference to an existing vendor agreement.”
Claire sat down.
“What kind of agreement?”
“A supplemental occupancy agreement. It’s listed in an appendix, but the appendix itself is missing.”
“Could it help us?”
“It could tell us what process the city was required to follow.”
Claire stared toward the old photograph above the fireplace.
Her father stood beneath the second arch, one hand resting on the stand.
His smile was crooked.
His apron was stained.
Behind him, painted on the side of the supply box, were three faded words she had stopped noticing years ago.
May you like
KEEP THE RED BOOK.
Claire stood so quickly her chair struck the wall.
