Page 152 of Sugar & Shadows

“Technically, no. Josh was invited, and I’m going in his place. But I want to lay low, see what we can learn.”

Excitement coursed through my veins. Going behind the scenes in Birch Hollow? The TAP team would be so jealous. “We need aliases,” I demanded.

He heaved out an amused sigh. “Absolutely not. We’re just going to observe.”

“Don’t ruin this.” I clutched his arm. “Don’t you know corporate espionage is foreplay for me?”

He looked over and smiled brightly. “You have never been sexier.”

I mirrored his expression. “Let’s prepare. We need a backstory, a list of dummy questions to ask to make people think we’re not a threat, and at least one or two diversion plans in the event that they make us and we need to cause a scene.”

Sipping my tea, I watched the scenery and plotted.

When we arrived, I was underwhelmed by the generic small-town vibe. While I knew a lot about Birch Hollow, I’d never been there. Everywhere I looked, there were luxury SUVs, and the buildings had the kind of corporate artisanal look that made me immediately distrustful.

Their town hall was a sleek building, all steel and glass. So different than the two-hundred-year-old brick building in Maplewood.

The streets were lined with evenly spaced trees, and there was little foot traffic, even on a sunny Wednesday.

“This place looks like it was designed by a focus group,” I murmured as we walked toward town hall. I wished I’d have thought to snag one of Harper’s fancy microphones. I could probably pick up a lot of dirt here.

“I need to get a few photos with my phone,” I told him. “Then Meg can run them through facial recognition software so we know who’s who.”

Gabe beamed at me. “I expected no less.”

The lobby had gleaming marble floors and a sleek registration desk. Several men in suits milled around, and other were set up at small tables.

“Is that…?” I craned my neck. “Keith Hurst?”

Gabe nodded.

“Neutral, my ass,” I grumbled. I’d like to say I was surprised about the director of tourism who had pretended to be deeply concerned about Maplewood’s plight.

We shuffled into the main room, and as we settled into seats in the back, Gabe put his arm around me. “Warren Manheim is over there. He’s a private equity investor from New Hampshire. Has bought up a lot of commercial farmland.”

A man wearing a polo shirt with Arcadian Biotech embroidered on the chest walked by.

My pulse picked up. “They’re here?”

Gabe shrugged. “Get a picture of him. Let’s figure out who he is.” He put his arm around me, giving me a little cover so I could discreetly snap a photo. As I set my phone in my lap, he pulled his hat lower over his eyes.

The people-watching was fascinating. There were probably forty or fifty people here, some corporate types, others farmers.

The Birch Hollow mayor was a red-faced guy who wore an unironic bow tie and a flashy Patek Philippe watch.

“What the hell is a small-town mayor doing with a three-hundred-thousand-dollar watch?” I whispered.

Gabe’s brows shot up, and he angled forward almost imperceptibly.

The mayor approached the man in the Arcadian Biotech shirt, and the two of them laughed, gripping shoulders like old friends.

Interesting.

“This place feels like a country club where everyone is cheating on both their taxes and their wives,” I said. “Just missing the thirty-dollar martinis.”

The corner of Gabe’s mouth twitched. “Stay cool.”

“Oh, I’m cool,” I said, pushing to my feet. “Just going to hit the ladies’ room before this thing gets started. You know, wander casually through the crowd while collecting intelligence.”