Lost Melody Read Free Page A

He picked up his cup and sipped lukewarm coffee, trying to give himself time to come up with the correct response. Samuels represented a small but powerful group of change-resistant residents who preferred to keep everything the same — always. Couldn’t they see that the town needed to generate some revenue? The sidewalks were cracking, a quarter of the streetlights didn’t work, and most of the public buildings were in need of repair.
    “It will take some effort to get this place ready, by the town and by individuals, especially business owners.” Greg caught and held Mr. Allen’s eyes. “But I think the investment will pay off. If we can demonstrate that we have the infrastructure in place to handle an increase in tourism, then when I’m elected to HalifaxRegional Council, we can lobby for additional governmental money. That’s a critical element in my plan.”
    A thoughtful look crossed the man’s features. “A couple of my rooms could use a bit of attention.” He glanced toward the ceiling, above which lay several of the Inn’s rooms. “And the building needs a fresh coat of paint to look her best. Been meaning to do that for some time now.”
    “The whole town could use a fresh coat of paint, my law office included.” Greg grinned. “I’ve been thinking when the weather warms up we could have a couple of community clean-up days where everybody pitches in and helps.”
    Mr. Allen leaned back in his chair, studying Greg like he was contemplating a chess move. “So, what exactly is it you want from me, Bradford?”
    “Your support,” Greg replied without hesitation. “The election is six months away, and things are already heating up. In order to be elected as Seaside Cove’s representative on the council, I need influential people like you to speak out for me. If the subject comes up, tell people you support the increased tourist trade program I’m proposing. And,” he ducked his head, “if you’re not doing anything Monday night, I’d sure appreciate you coming out to the town meeting and letting it be known that you support me as a candidate.”
    “In other words, you want me to go head-to-head with Samuels and his crew.” A slow smile crept across the older man’s lips. “Don’t mind that a’tall.”
    Relief washed over Greg. With Mr. Allen in his camp, he had an important ally in the community of Seaside Cove. “Thank you, sir.”
    Mr. Allen got to his feet. “I suppose you’ll be needing to do some fund-raising for this campaign of yours.”
    Apparently, the meeting was drawing to a close. Greg set his cup down and stood. “I’m spending as little as I can on the campaign, but mailers and postage and signs cost money.” That was one part of campaigning he detested. Dad advised that he needed to get over his reluctance, be bold. But people in this town worked hard for their money, and he hated asking them to part with any of it.
    “Thought so.” Mr. Allen reached into the breast pocket of his shirt and pulled out a folded check. “Been planning to support you all along, Bradford. Just been waiting for you to ask.”
    Greg took the check, then clasped the man’s hand in his. “Thank you. Your support means a lot to me.”
    Allen walked him toward the door. “How’s that pretty girl of yours doing? She recovered from that accident?”
    His coat hung on a rack near the front door. Greg shrugged into it before answering. “Jill’s doing well. She’s looking forward to Christmas this year, since she pretty much missed out on it last year.”
    Greg focused on fastening his buttons. At least, he
thought
Jill was looking forward to Christmas. She’d put up her tree, anyway. The accident still bothered her, which was understandable. It had been a terrible tragedy, one she was lucky to have survived. Almost a hundred people lost their lives in the subway crash, and she’d nearly been one of them.
    Like it always did, the thought of how close he’d come to losing Jill hit him