“Don’t pay them any mind,” Earl said as he caught me looking. “You know how old men like to share the news.”

I scoffed. “You’re sixty, Earl. Not sure that qualifies as old.”

“Well, Tyler back there was born old, and Nick has to be pushing eighty-five.”

“Eighty-four!” Nick argued.

“And nothing’s wrong with his hearing,” Earl said a little louder over his shoulder.

The men chuckled. I wasn’t stupid. The power of Alba rested in those seats and had for the last fifty years. Maybe not Xander at this time in the morning, but two members of the town council were already here, and there was little doubt in my mind that the other three would join them in the next hour.

“Since when did John Royal step down from the town council?” I asked loud enough for the men in the back to hear.

“Since he got elected to the Historical Society council,” Nick answered. “You know we try not to mix the two. Business and government shouldn’t be shaking hands.”

“Xander sits on both.”

Earl moved to my other side and whistled low.

“Well, now, that couldn’t be helped.” Tyler Williamson set his coffee down on the small table next to him and stared at me openly. “He’s mayor by his own right.”

The men nodded in support.

“And sits on the Historical Society council as your father’s proxy,” he finished.

The nodding continued.

“You gunning for that Historical Society council seat?” Paul Warten asked from his chair next to Tyler.

Every single one of those men leaned forward, and Earl lifted his shears from my head.

“No, sir, I’m not. I wouldn’t presume to know enough about the workings of the historical district to even think about it. I’ve got more than enough on my plate with getting the Rose Rowan up and running, then the mining company building.”

One by one, they relaxed, satisfied with my reply.

Earl started cutting again, shooting me a look that said I’d just escaped the guillotine.

“So that’s not what this whole mess with Art is about?” Nick questioned over his coffee, acting like he didn’t care. The grip he had on that cup said otherwise.

“No, sir. My dad called and asked me to help him take back a little control over his advanced directive. I’m here for his health-care rights, not his council seat. Xander’s welcome to it.”

Earl lifted a side of his mouth in a slight smirk and kept cutting.

“And Willow? Did you come back for her, too?” Tyler asked.

I tensed, and Earl immediately lifted the shears again. “Well,” he started, then glanced up at the clock. “I have a feeling you’ll know the answer to that in about five minutes.” He caught my eye in the mirror and lowered his voice. “You sure you know what you’re getting yourself into here, Cam?”