“She would probably write another newspaper letter.”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll talk to legal.”
“No.”
“What?”
“Don’t talk to legal and come back tomorrow telling me it can’t be done.”
“What would you prefer?”
“Come back telling me what it costs.”
Silence.
Then Harlan said softly, “You sound like Eleanor.”
I looked at Mom’s letter on my kitchen table.
“No.”
I smiled.
“I sound like June.”
The board meeting lasted three hours.
There were no cameras.
No grand speeches.
No dramatic crowd.
Just fourteen people around a long table in a rehearsal room while rain tapped against the windows.
I preferred it that way.
Harlan presented the revised agreement.
The community room would remain protected.
The commercial partner would receive scheduling priority only in designated rental spaces.
The change reduced projected annual revenue.
To compensate, the reopening would happen in phases.
The hotel component would be postponed.
Two planned executive offices would be eliminated and converted into paid apprenticeship classrooms.
