“Today, we’re here to auction off the five properties along the block of Main and Birch. Each business is about a thousand square feet. We’ve opted to sell the properties together instead of individually. All properties have tenants who pay rent. It’s the entire block except for one building.”
My mind goes to Camden. The one person who owns his space. The one person not being threatened by Jason and his terrible plan to force locals out.
“The starting bid will be at one million.”
Dean had prepared me for where it’d likely start out, but it still makes my stomach turn. That number is already so much of what we raised from the fundraiser. We had numerous donors who donated large sums of money, but I’m still scared it won’t be enough. Even with the check my dad cut me this morning—money I knew he should use for the ranch—the creeping feeling of nothing being enough to compete with Jason creeps over me.
The man takes a step away from the podium, and Clyde takes his place. I’ve seen Clyde stand at this podium on multiple occasions. I was constantly coming to auctions with my dad as a kid. We’d buy horses, hay, feed, so many things from the man standing in front of me. Never did I think he’d be auctioning off what I’ve worked hardest for in life.
“I’m going to get right to it,” Clyde announces, running a hand over his mouth. He looks incredibly uncomfortable up there, and by the hug he gave me at the fundraiser yesterday, I know this is the last thing he wants to be doing right now.
“Do I have one million and one?” Jason and I both raise our paddles.
“One million and three?”
My paddle stays in the air, no matter the dread coursing through my veins. We’re getting dangerously close to the point we’ll have nothing left.
“Two million,” Jason calls out, even though it wasn’t time for that amount yet.
I swallow, risking a glance at my dad. He watches me, wrinkles creasing his entire forehead. His eyes look sad, and I hate the disappointment that’s written all over his features.
“I can’t,” I mutter to my dad. “We don’t have it.”
My eyes sting with unshed tears. I hate this. I hate the feeling of knowing I tried everything I could do to not only keep Wake and Bake but the businesses next door, and it still wasn’t enough.
“Two million,” a voice calls from behind me. I look three rows back to where Dean Livingston sits with a raised paddle. His dad sits on the other side of him, looking at his son with wide eyes.
“Two million and one,” Jason counters, angrily looking back at Dean.
“Two million and two,” Dean continues, glaring daggers at Jason.
Rosemary grabs my shoulder, leaning forward in her chair. “Do we have anything else?”
I shake my head. “I can’t compete with that,” I answer sadly. “It’s in Dean’s hands now.”
“Two and a half.” Jason seethes.
“Three,” Dean immediately counters.
I watch Dean hopefully, my heart thumping in my chest. It isn’t up to me anymore; it’s up to Dean. And I’m petrified even Dean will have a number he won’t go to for five simple properties that shouldn’t cost this much.
Dean and Jason go back and forth a few times, and the numbers are so high it makes me want to throw up. The world around me starts to get fuzzy and black at the catastrophic realization our plan is falling through. Everything I’ve worked for is slipping through my fingers, and there’s nothing I can do.
I look at the row behind me, where Ms. Lori sits with her husband. They’d put in all of their savings to try and buy back her flower shop, and it still wasn’t enough. Or Ty who owns BlueBird Bookstore, who sits on her other side and volunteered his retirement money to help us have funds to try today. Everyone on the block has offered up everything they have. And even those who have nothing to gain and don’t own businesses gave more than we could’ve ever expected.
And it’s all going up in flames right now. Everything we’ve worked for is disappearing in a cloud of smoke.
“Ten million,” a voice thunders from the very back of the room.
My entire body breaks out in shivers. I’d know the voice anywhere. At any place, in any crowd, I’d recognize it.
58
CAMDEN
My hand not holding the bidding paddle stays firmly in my pocket. I’m scared if I pull it out, people might see it shaking with nerves. It’s not about the money or the attention; it’s the fact that I’m here to lay my heart out on the line, with no idea if Pippa will even speak to me.