Her Best Friend. Sarah Mayberry

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      Maybe he really did need this holiday.

      He hadn’t been lying when he told Amy that he’d been thinking about her, though. He’d been thinking about her a lot. About the conversations they used to have lying in the tall grass at the bottom of her parents’ yard. About the way she always used to call him on his bullshit. About the times all three of them, he and Amy and Lisa, had gone swimming in the lake after dark.

      All of it a far cry from the polished, finely honed world he occupied now. The corner office. The partnership in the prestigious law firm. The expensive European car. The soon-to-be expensive divorce.

      Quinn shook his head. He really needed to get his head out of his own ass. Too much time on his own these days and he started thinking things to death. This was why he worked late. And why he was reluctant to spend two weeks on an island somewhere pretending to read a spy novel.

      He palmed the phone and dialed Amy’s cell. She answered after one ring and he knew she’d probably been hovering by the damned thing, hoping he’d call back, even though he’d said it wouldn’t be until morning.

      “Quinn,” she said. She sounded breathless. Scared.

      “Good news. I’ve done some digging, and the Grand is listed on the town’s heritage register for both its interior and exterior architectural features. Which means that any development has to preserve the interior as well as the facade.”

      “Oh my God. Thank you. Oh, Quinn. Thank you.” Her voice was thick with emotion.

      “Don’t get too excited yet. Ulrich’s proposal shouldn’t have ever made it past first base. But it did, which means council are prepared to flout their own bylaws if given enough incentive.”

      There was a long silence from the other end of the phone.

      “But once I point out that they can’t do that, they’ll have to reject the offer, right?” Amy said.

      “Not if they think they can get away with it. If the money’s big enough, people will do just about anything, Amy. I’ve been doing some checking, and Ulrich Construction has the contract to build the extension on the school gym, the new wing on the library and the new medical center over near the day spa. I’d say Barry Ulrich and the council are very nicely tucked up in bed with each other, wouldn’t you?”

      “Oh.” She sounded nonplussed, and despite the seriousness of the situation, he had to smile. Amy had always been too busy thinking the best of people to see the worst.

      “The council was probably hoping that they could slip this under the radar while nobody was looking.”

      “Well, that’s not going to happen,” she said. “Not while I’m still living and breathing.”

      “I didn’t think so.”

      “So, what do I do? Go to the meeting, let them know that I know what they’re up to?” He could hear her taking notes.

      “For starters. Take people with you, make sure there are plenty of witnesses to keep the councillors on their toes.”

      “Dad can get his cronies from the Chamber of Commerce to come along. They can throw a bit of weight around when they want to. And Denise knows a guy at the local paper.”

      “Perfect. I’ll draft up a statement for you to read. Something with enough legalese in it to give them pause.”

      “Good. Pause is just what I want to give them. And then some.”

      “I’m heading off on holiday tomorrow, but I’ll get the statement to you by morning, okay? And you can reach me on my cell if you need me.”

      “Oh. Okay.” There was a short silence. “Where are you guys going?”

      Now was the time to correct her, tell her that he was going on holiday alone. That Lisa had left him.

      “Hamilton Island. Couple of weeks of sun and surf.”

      “Sounds good.”

      He drew a meaningless squiggle on the page in front of him. “Yeah.”

      She took a deep breath on the other end of the line. “You’ve been great, Quinn. I want you to know I really appreciate your help with this.”

      “It’s no big deal, Ames.”

      “It is to me. It’s a huge deal.”

      “Well.” He made another squiggle, then obliterated it in a flurry of pen strokes. “Don’t be a stranger, okay? Drop me a line now and then. And let me know how things go on Friday, okay?”

      “I will.”

      Neither of them said anything for a long moment. He could hear her breathing and he could feel the truth pushing its way up his throat.

      It’s all screwed, Ames. My marriage, my life. I have no idea what I’m doing anymore.

      “Good luck,” he said. Then he put the phone down before the truth could escape.

      She didn’t want to hear his sad story. She was fighting for her dream. And they weren’t friends the way they used to be. He’d done something wrong, or something had gone wrong and he’d been too busy with his own crap to notice.

      Same difference.

      He flicked off the lights and walked through his empty house.

      OVER THE NEXT THREE DAYS, Amy cajoled, begged, bribed and harassed her friends and neighbors until they agreed to join her at the council meeting on Friday evening. She phoned the local newspaper no less than seven times chasing Denise’s friend and finally cornered him in the butcher’s at lunchtime on Thursday.

      One of the advantages of living in a small community—you could run, but not for long, and you sure as hell couldn’t hide. She promised him a good show and he promised her a reporter. She left in high spirits.

      Quinn had been as good as his word and e-mailed her a precisely written statement to read during the meeting. It cited precedents and bylaws and subsections and clauses. She couldn’t follow most of it, but she figured that probably meant that the majority of the councillors wouldn’t be able to, either, which was good. She wanted them to be intimidated. She wanted them to know they were going to have a fight on their hands if they tried to push this thing through.

      Her great-grandfather had built the Grand in 1929. He’d commissioned an architect in Sydney and imported marble from Carrara and light fittings from Venice. He’d created a wonderful legacy for the community. No way was Amy going to roll over while some greedy developer turned it to dust and replaced it with a bunch of shoe-box-size apartments.

      She dressed carefully for the big meeting. A borrowed suit from Denise, neat and black and businesslike. A pair of new shoes that hurt her toes but gave her an extra four inches in height—very necessary since she was only five feet tall and often mistaken for a kid. She pulled her shoulder-length curly blond hair into a bun and painted her face with more makeup than she usually wore. She didn’t want anyone mistaking her for a kid tonight.

      It was only a СКАЧАТЬ