Page 7

7

Union Hill

J ulie swirled her glass of cabernet sauvignon, savoring the complex notes of blackberry, coffee, and cedar as she studied the bistro’s menu. The crispy duck confit with wild mushroom risotto caught her eye as the perfect celebratory meal. Today marked a significant milestone in the Allegheny Luxury Lofts project, and she intended to toast her success properly, even if she dined alone.

The lights strung across the bistro’s patio bathed the cobblestone courtyard in a warm glow. As Julie swept her gaze over the lit-up boutiques and restaurants that lined Railroad Way, glittering like gems in the dark, and a rush of pride washed over her.

Five years ago, this stretch had been a sad collection of vacant storefronts and crumbling buildings. The structures were neglected relics of a long-ago era when the railroad and coal had brought prosperity to these hills. Forget vacationers, the residents couldn’t wait to escape. The Great Allegheny Passage had brought new life to the region and she—Julie Mason—had seized the opportunity with both hands.

Now, the street hummed with activity. Tourists and transplants mingled, their laughter carrying in the night. Soft music rose on the cool spring breeze. This was her vision realized: a revitalized Union Hill, reborn as a destination rather than a pit stop on the way nowhere.

Her server approached the table, but before Julie could order, movement across the street caught her eye. A tall, willowy figure with distinctive icy blonde hair descended the exterior staircase of the renovated mercantile building—her first successful conversion project. Julie recognized Rory instantly. The former supermodel was unmistakable even at a distance.

Rory glanced at her and crossed the street with a purposeful stride, heading directly toward the bistro’s courtyard. Julie straightened in her chair, oddly pleased. Rory Westin was exactly the type of resident she’d hoped to attract when she’d begun investing in Union Hill—creative, sophisticated, cosmopolitan. The photographer had biked the Great Allegheny Passage from the C&O Canal Towpath connector two Aprils ago. After a weekend stay in Union Hill, she’d promptly fallen in love with the town and returned to Washington just long enough to pack her belongings before relocating to Julie’s first residential property.

“I’ll give you a few more minutes,” the server said, noting Rory’s approach. He melted into the background.

Rory slipped into the chair across from Julie, her snow-white cashmere wrap luminous in the dim light. Up close, the photographer’s high, curved cheekbones were taut, her muscles tensed, almost as if she were going into battle. July couldn’t imagine why.

“What a lovely surprise,” she said warmly, gesturing to her wine. “Let me order you a glass. The cabernet is excellent.”

“No, thank you,” Rory replied, her voice cool and measured. “I’m not staying.”

Something in her tone made Julie set down her glass. “Is everything all right with the apartment? If there’s a maintenance issue?—”

“This isn’t about my apartment,” Rory cut in. “It’s about Lydia Hudson’s home.”

Julie blinked slowly and tried to hide her surprise at being ambushed for the second time about Lydia Hudson. She couldn’t imagine Rory knew the woman, let alone cared about the situation. Then she remembered the photographer across the road, sitting with Lydia as she watched her house crumble to the ground.

“I see,” she said carefully. “You were at the demolition site today.”

“I was documenting it. For Mrs. Hudson.” Her tone held a challenge.

Bristling, Julie sipped her wine before responding. She used the moment to collect her thoughts and form a tactful response. “It’s unfortunate Lydia had to be relocated. Unfortunate, but necessary for the town’s growth.”

“Necessary?” Rory’s cornflower blue eyes flashed. “It was necessary to force a woman out of her family home? A home that’s stood for over a century, a home that her grandparents built with their own hands?”

“The town council determined?—”

“The town council is stacked with your business associates,” Rory interrupted. “Let’s not pretend this was some democratic process. You wanted that property for your luxury lofts, and when Lydia wouldn’t sell, you used eminent domain as a weapon.”

Julie’s skin heated as a flush crept up her neck, but she maintained a neutral expression. This was far from the first time she’d faced criticism for her development projects, although it was the first she’d been challenged by someone who so directly benefited from them.

“I understand it looks harsh from the outside,” Julie said, her voice even. “But you don’t know what it was like before. Union Hill was dying, Rory. The young people left in droves because there were no jobs. Buildings literally crumbled from neglect. The tax base couldn’t support basic services.” She leaned forward. “My projects create economic opportunity. The Allegheny Luxury Lofts will bring construction jobs, service positions, increased tourism?—”

“At what cost?” Rory challenged. “And for whose benefit? Certainly not for people like Lydia.”

Julie’s professional smile faltered. “Not everyone will benefit equally in the short term, that’s true. Change is difficult. But in the long run, a rising tide lifts all boats.”

Rory scoffed. “A rising tide drowns those who can’t afford a boat. People aren’t abstract economic units, Julie. They’re human beings with histories and memories. They have emotional attachments to their homes. Did you even talk to Lydia before you decided to bulldoze her home?”

The accusation stung because it contained a kernel of truth. Julie had sent lawyers and real estate appraisers to the Hudson home bearing offers. But, no, she’d never sat down with Lydia herself.

“It isn’t personal,” Julie insisted. “It’s business.”

“It’s personal to Lydia. It’s personal to everyone being pushed out of their homes and businesses.” Rory’s voice rose slightly, drawing glances from diners at nearby tables. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be displaced? To have your entire life upended because someone more powerful decides your home, your community, your footprint, isn’t valuable enough to exist?”

The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on Julie. She gestured toward the square. “You wouldn’t even be here if not for the development you’re criticizing. That studio apartment you love so much? It used to be a derelict storage space above a failing mercantile store. The owner was drowning in debt and about to lose the building to the bank. I paid him a fair price and created something viable. I displaced him for people like you. ”

Rory didn’t flinch. “And I pay you a substantial rent for that space. But I wouldn’t have moved here if I’d known the cost also included pushing out lifelong residents.”

“That’s a convenient moral position to take after the fact,” Julie shot back, her patience wearing thin. “What would you have me do now? Return the old buildings back to their original state? Should I close the bistro, the boutiques, the coffee shop? Tell the tourists to go elsewhere? Because that’s the alternative. Without investment, this town would be gasping for breath, like so many other dying towns that haven’t harnessed the potential of the GAP.”

The air between them was thick with tension.

Julie took another sip of wine, feeling a headache forming at her temples. She genuinely believed in what she was doing—revitalizing her hometown, creating opportunity in the place of stagnation. Why couldn’t people like Rory see beyond the immediate disruption to the long-term good?

When Rory remained silent, Julie tried again in a gentler tone. “Look, I grew up in Union Hill. I left for college and stayed away for twenty years because there was nothing to come back to. I’m trying to change that. To create a place where people want to live, work, and visit. Is that really so terrible?”

Rory’s expression softened, the tight line of her jaw relaxing. “Your intentions may be good, but your methods are heartless. There are ways to develop communities that include existing residents rather than displacing them. Affordable housing set-asides. Local hiring requirements. Rent control. Business incubators for local entrepreneurs. Investment in social programs geared to the community, not just events to attract visitors.” She shook her head. “But I suppose that would mean more effort and, presumably, less profit.”

Julie stiffened. “You don’t know the first thing about my profit margins or the work I’ve put into improving this town—for everyone.”

Rory slid a knowing eye over Julie’s couture outfit, two-carat ring, and designer bag and smirked.

Julie resisted the urge to squirm under the scrutiny. Instead she forced a smile and changed the subject. Everyone loved talking about themselves. Especially the artsy types.

“How are the preparations coming for your exhibition in Pittsburgh? Push/Pull , I believe it is. Landing a showing at the Hot Metal Gallery is quite an achievement.”

Rory’s nostrils flared. “It’s been canceled.”

“What? Why?” Julie asked, genuinely surprised. “I thought it was opening next week.”

“Creative differences,” Rory said flatly. “The gallery owner wanted to take the show in a direction I wasn’t comfortable with.”

Julie sensed there was more to the story but knew better than to press. “I’m sorry to hear that. Your work is exceptional. It deserves to be seen.”

Rory stood abruptly, adjusting her wrap around her shoulders. “Well, it seems we don’t always get what we deserve.”

The pointed comment hung in the air like a raindrop, trembling on a branch, about to fall. Then Rory turned on her heel.

Julie watched her stride away, the white cashmere shawl fluttering behind her as she crossed the courtyard and disappeared into her building. For a long moment, Julie sat perfectly still, the weight of the confrontation wedged in her stomach like a brick.

She chafed at being cast as the villain. If anything, she was the hometown hero, returning to save Union Hill from the slow death of irrelevance. She created jobs, attracted investment, and breathed life into abandoned buildings. In her own way, she was an artist, too, molding the town to her vision. So why did Rory’s accusations unsettle her?

If she were honest, she knew the answer. Rory’s points had struck a nerve because they touched on doubts that plagued her in unguarded moments.

Had she been too ruthless in pursuing her goals? Could she have found a way to include Lydia and others like her in the new Union Hill she was creating?

No. Julie brushed the thoughts aside like cobwebs. Growth inevitably entailed growing pains. But the results would vindicate her approach. Union Hill would thrive again—a new town designed for a new era.

She signaled for the server.

“I’m ready to order now,” she chirped, her smile firmly back in place. “The duck confit, please. And another glass of the cabernet.”

As he retreated, she turned her gaze toward the string of fairy lights illuminating Railroad Way. Beyond them, in the distance, she could just make out the faint silhouette of the construction equipment still positioned at what had been the Hudson property. Tomorrow, workers would clear away the debris dig the foundation for the Allegheny Luxury Lofts.

Change, she reminded herself, was inevitable. Those who couldn’t adapt would be left behind. It was simply the way the world worked.

But when she raised her glass again, the wine tasted bitter.