What She'd Do for Love. Cindi Myers
“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.”
This admission earned him the hint of a smile. “All right. But where can we get coffee this time of night?”
“The Blue Bell stays open late on Thursdays,” Kelly volunteered. “The Lions Club used to meet then, and after they changed their meeting time, Etta Mae just kept the same hours.”
“The Blue Bell it is,” he said.