Page 12 of A Hard Habit to Break
“And that involves goats wearing sandwich boards?” Rachel quizzed.
“Service politics have gotten considerably more theatrical since you left,” her father said dryly.
“MRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOWWWWWWWWW!”
All three turned to see ClamClam, who had somehow escaped her carrier, and was now perched on the roof of Rachel’s truck, her fur bristling as she stared down the smallest goat.
“Oh my goodness,” Bethany said, laughing. “I heard about the cat.”
Rachel shot a side eye at her father, who looked away. Obviously, he’d overshared about Rachel’s last visit.
“ClamClam. Get down from there,” Rachel called, moving toward her truck. “Now.”
“ClamClam?” her father repeated, bemused. “That’s the name you decided on?”
“She earned it, Dad. Trust me,” Rachel explained hurriedly. “Benji, don’t you dare pull out your phone.”
Too late. Her supposed friend had exited the truck and was filming the standoff between cat and goat, narrating in his best nature documentary voice: “Here we observe the rare Urban Architect Cat, ClamClam Johnson, asserting dominance over an indigenous Protest Goat, Billy, Jean, or Diana. A fascinating cross-species stare off.”
The goats, startled by the new voices, began trotting in circles, their signs flapping. ClamClam, apparently deciding she’d made her point, let out one final, earsplitting “MRAAAAAAAOW!” before leaping gracefully back through the truck’s open window.
“I am so sorry about this,” Rachel said, feeling her carefully planned entrance crumbling around her. “This is Benjamin Wiles, my engineer friend from San Diego I told you about. Benji, this is my dad, Matthew Johnson, and his fiancée, Bethany Walker.”
“Delighted to meet the father of this brilliant woman,” Benji said, extending his hand with his usual charm. “And the soon-to-be stepmother, who has excellent taste in both men and goat-themed entertainment.”
Bethany laughed, but Rachel noticed her father’s slightly puzzled expression as he shook Benji’s hand. Oh no. Her dad looked up and down Benji’s impressive frame. At six foot two, tanned, with blond California surfer vibes, he looked the part of a very significant, significant other. He thought Benji was her boyfriend. She’d have to clarify that later.
“So,” Rachel said, eager to change the subject, “what’s this about a redevelopment committee? And why are there protests?”
Her father and Bethany exchanged a look that made Rachel instantly suspicious.
“It’s a long story,” her father began.
“Service got approved for a substantial rural development grant,” Bethany started, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “But there’s disagreement about priorities. I’ve been advocating for a medical clinic with a nurse practitioner.”
“Which is desperately needed,” her father interjected.
Rachel thought the clinic had a steady supply of patients. “What happened to the clinic we had?”
“Petey,” her dad snapped.
“Budget cuts,” Bethany added. “And others want to focuson municipal buildings, training center, that sort of thing, rather than the health of this community,” she finished.
“Others like Petey and Noah?” Rachel asked, his name slipping out before she could stop it.
Another loaded glance between the engaged couple.
“Noah’s been appointed to the committee,” her father confirmed carefully. “Along with Mayor Judelson and Bethany.”
“Oh, that Noah,” Benji piped up, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “The one Rachel never talks about.”
Rachel shot him a death glare.
“Actually,” Bethany said with a brightness that immediately set off alarm bells in Rachel’s head, “we’ve been thinking of bringing in an outside perspective. Someone with expertise in urban planning and development. Someone who could help bridge the divide between different factions.”
No. Oh no.
“Given your experience with city revitalization projects,” her father added, “you’d be perfect for the committee, RJ.”
