Updated Apr 19, 2026 • ~12 min read
Chapter 3: The Town Meeting
Quinn
Quinn discovers that “town meeting” in Maplewood means literally every single resident shows up to the community center on Wednesday night with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for major sporting events or celebrity sightings, and she walks into a room packed with approximately three hundred people who all turn to stare at her the moment she enters like she’s the evening’s main entertainment.
“Quinn! Over here!” Mayor Judy calls from the front of the room, waving enthusiastically and gesturing to an empty seat that Quinn suspects has been deliberately saved for maximum visibility, and Quinn makes her way through the crowd while receiving approximately thirty greetings from people whose names she has absolutely no chance of remembering.
The community center is exactly what Quinn expected from a small Vermont town—hardwood floors that have seen decades of dances and meetings, folding chairs arranged in rows, a small stage at the front where Mayor Judy is setting up a podium, and the lingering smell of coffee and old books that suggests this space serves multiple purposes depending on the town’s needs.
Quinn takes the saved seat in the second row, directly in Mayor Judy’s line of sight, and tries not to feel like she’s been strategically placed for some purpose she doesn’t fully understand yet.
Mabel slides into the seat next to her, carrying two cups of coffee and offering one to Quinn with a warm smile that Quinn is learning means the older woman has decided they’re friends regardless of whether Quinn agreed to this friendship.
“First town meeting,” Mabel observes, handing over the coffee. “They’re usually pretty boring unless someone proposes something controversial, and then they’re extremely entertaining. Last month Harold Jenkins suggested changing the town flower from the maple leaf to a sunflower and we debated for two hours.”
“What happened?” Quinn asks, taking the coffee gratefully because it’s seven PM and she’s been unpacking all day and desperately needs caffeine.
“Maple leaf won,” Mabel says with satisfaction. “We’re Maplewood. You can’t change the town flower from a maple to anything else. Harold should’ve known better.”
Mayor Judy calls the meeting to order with a gavel that seems unnecessarily dramatic for a small town gathering, and Quinn settles in for what she assumes will be an hour of local politics and community announcements that probably won’t concern her since she’s only been here three days.
She’s wrong.
“First order of business,” Mayor Judy announces with the kind of smile that Quinn has learned to distrust, “welcoming our newest resident! Quinn Mitchell has moved into the old Henderson house and will be reopening Sugar & Spice bakery. Quinn, would you like to stand and introduce yourself?”
Quinn definitely would not like to stand and introduce herself to three hundred strangers, but everyone’s already turning to look at her with expectant faces and Mabel is giving her an encouraging nudge, so Quinn stands awkwardly and waves at the assembled crowd.
“Hi,” Quinn says, because what else do you say when forced to address an entire town? “I’m Quinn. I inherited the bakery from my aunt, and I’m excited to be part of the community. Thank you for the warm welcome.”
This seems like a perfectly adequate introduction, but apparently Maplewood residents want more information because hands immediately shoot up across the room, and Mayor Judy starts calling on people with the efficiency of someone moderating a press conference.
“Where are you from originally?” asks a woman in the third row.
“New York City,” Quinn answers. “Manhattan, specifically.”
This causes a ripple of interest through the crowd—apparently big city transplants are noteworthy—and more hands go up.
“Why Maplewood?” asks an elderly man with kind eyes.
“My aunt left me the bakery,” Quinn explains. “And I was ready for a change of pace. Small town life seemed appealing.”
“What kind of pastries will you be making?” asks a teenage girl who’s sitting with what’s probably her family.
“Traditional baked goods like my aunt made,” Quinn says, warming to the topic because talking about her profession is significantly easier than talking about herself. “But I’m also planning to introduce some specialty items—French pastries, custom cakes, maybe a small coffee bar. I want to honor what Sugar & Spice was while also updating it for what the town might want now.”
This receives approving nods, and Quinn starts to relax slightly because maybe this won’t be as terrifying as she thought.
That’s when Sheriff Hank raises his hand, and Mayor Judy calls on him with barely suppressed glee.
“Welcome to Maplewood, Quinn,” Sheriff Hank says with the kind of professional warmth that suggests he’s used to putting people at ease. “You’ll love it here. Small, friendly, safe community. We take care of our own.”
“Thank you,” Quinn says, genuinely touched by the sentiment. “Everyone’s been very—”
“You met Asher yet?” Mabel interrupts from her seat, not even bothering to raise her hand. “The firefighter next door?”
Quinn should have seen this coming—should have predicted that her encounter with the grumpy firefighter would somehow become public knowledge in a town this small—but she’s still caught off guard by the directness of the question.
“Briefly,” Quinn admits, because lying seems pointless when three hundred people are staring at her waiting for details.
“Great man,” Pastor David calls from somewhere in the middle rows. “Tragic story, really. Lost his wife—”
Approximately fifteen people shush him simultaneously with varying degrees of urgency, and Pastor David has the grace to look embarrassed about sharing potentially sensitive information with the new resident who’s been here less than a week.
But the damage is done—Quinn now knows that her grumpy neighbor is a widower, which explains some of his unfriendliness and makes her feel slightly guilty for being annoyed by his lack of warmth during their first meeting.
“David,” Mayor Judy says with forced patience, “we discussed this. No tragic backstories during the welcome meeting.”
“Sorry,” Pastor David mutters, but the entire room is now buzzing with whispered conversations about Asher and his late wife and whether it’s appropriate to mention this to the new neighbor.
Quinn remains standing awkwardly while the town debates around her, and she catches the eye of a man sitting in the back row who’s watching the entire scene with what looks like amused resignation—he’s probably in his mid-thirties, attractive in a rugged way, and he gives Quinn a sympathetic smile that suggests he understands exactly how overwhelming this is.
“Anyway,” Mayor Judy says loudly, regaining control of the meeting. “Welcome to Maplewood, Quinn. We’re thrilled to have you. Now, does anyone have any questions about the proposed budget for street repairs?”
Quinn sits down quickly while the meeting shifts to significantly more boring topics like infrastructure and zoning regulations, and Mabel leans over to whisper “Don’t mind them. They’re excited about new people. We don’t get many transplants.”
“I’m noticing,” Quinn whispers back, and Mabel laughs quietly.
The rest of the meeting is blessedly focused on actual town business—budgets and upcoming festivals and someone’s proposal to add more street lamps on Maple Avenue—and Quinn lets the discussions wash over her while processing what just happened.
The town knows she’s single.
The town knows Asher is single.
The town is clearly, obviously, transparently trying to set them up.
And Quinn realizes with dawning horror that this isn’t going to be a one-time matchmaking attempt but rather an ongoing campaign by literally every resident of Maplewood to push her and her grumpy firefighter neighbor together despite both of them being clearly uninterested in a relationship.
“They mean well,” Mabel says quietly, apparently reading Quinn’s expression. “Asher’s been alone for two years. Ruby needs a mother figure, though she doesn’t know it yet. And you’re single and new and the right age. The town sees opportunity.”
“I’m not looking for a relationship,” Quinn says firmly. “I just got out of a very bad situation with my ex-fiancé. I’m here to focus on the bakery and build a new life for myself. Alone.”
“Sure, honey,” Mabel says with the kind of knowing smile that suggests she doesn’t believe Quinn for a second. “Sure.”
After the meeting finally ends—nearly two hours of local politics and community updates that Quinn will definitely need summarized because she stopped paying attention halfway through—people swarm her with introductions and questions and invitations to various town events, and Quinn tries to be gracious while internally screaming at the overwhelming friendliness of it all.
The man from the back row approaches eventually, extending his hand with an easy smile.
“Cole Martinez,” he introduces himself. “I run the garage on Main Street. Also, I’m Asher’s best friend, and I’m supposed to tell you that he’s really not as grumpy as he seems, he’s just rusty at being social.”
“He seemed pretty committed to the grumpy persona,” Quinn says, shaking Cole’s hand and appreciating the directness of someone who’s clearly not trying to matchmake but rather just being friendly.
“Two years of single dad life and avoiding the town’s matchmaking attempts will do that,” Cole says with a laugh. “Don’t take it personally. He’s like that with everyone except Ruby.”
“His daughter?” Quinn asks, because she’s curious despite herself about the grumpy firefighter and his apparently sweet kid.
“Six years old, absolute sweetheart, complete opposite of Asher’s grumpiness,” Cole confirms. “You’ll probably meet her soon. She’s very social and loves making new friends, which means Asher will be forced into neighborly interaction no matter how hard he tries to avoid it.”
This should not be as amusing as Quinn finds it, but there’s something delightful about imagining her grumpy neighbor being dragged into social situations by an enthusiastic six-year-old.
“Looking forward to it,” Quinn says, and she means it genuinely because a friendly kid sounds significantly more appealing than her surly father.
Mayor Judy swoops in then, inserting herself into the conversation with the subtlety of a bulldozer.
“Cole! Are you bothering our new resident?”
“Just introducing myself,” Cole says innocently. “Being neighborly.”
“Mmm,” Mayor Judy says, clearly skeptical. “Quinn, you should know that Asher is—”
“Judy,” Cole interrupts gently. “Maybe let them figure things out naturally instead of orchestrating every interaction?”
“I don’t orchestrate,” Mayor Judy protests. “I facilitate. There’s a difference.”
“Is there, though?” Cole asks with barely suppressed amusement, and Quinn is starting to really like this guy because he’s clearly on her side about the whole ridiculous matchmaking situation.
“I’m just saying,” Mayor Judy continues, undeterred, “Asher is a wonderful man who happens to be single, and Quinn is a lovely woman who is also single, and they live next door to each other, and sometimes the universe provides opportunities that we’d be foolish to ignore.”
“Noted,” Quinn says diplomatically, because arguing with Mayor Judy seems both pointless and potentially dangerous to her integration into town society. “But I’m really not looking for a relationship right now. I’m focusing on the bakery.”
“Of course, dear,” Mayor Judy says with a pat on Quinn’s arm that somehow feels more like a warning than comfort. “No pressure. Just… keeping options open.”
She floats away to corner someone else, and Cole shakes his head with fond exasperation.
“She’s relentless,” he tells Quinn. “But she genuinely cares about people. She’s been trying to get Asher to date again for the past year, and he’s been stubbornly refusing every setup. You’re her latest project.”
“Lucky me,” Quinn mutters, and Cole laughs.
“Hey, at least the town cares. Better than being ignored, right?”
“Is it though?” Quinn asks, only half joking, and Cole laughs again before excusing himself to talk to Sheriff Hank.
Quinn makes her escape shortly after, walking home through the quiet streets of Maplewood with the evening chill settling over the town, and she reflects on the absurdity of her new life—three days in a small town and she’s already the subject of elaborate matchmaking schemes, public speculation, and town-wide interest in her relationship status.
The lights are on in Asher’s house when she reaches home—she can see them through the windows as she crosses her yard—and for a moment Quinn wonders what he’s doing, if he’s putting his daughter to bed or watching TV or thinking about the new neighbor who climbed his roof to rescue a cat.
Probably not thinking about her, Quinn decides as she unlocks her door and steps into her still-mostly-unpacked house.
He made it very clear he’s not interested in neighborly friendship, let alone anything else.
Which is perfect, because Quinn’s not interested either.
She’s here for a fresh start, for the bakery, for building a life that doesn’t involve trusting someone with her heart only to have them destroy it.
Asher Brooks can stay grumpy and distant in his craftsman bungalow with his apparently sweet daughter and his tragic backstory.
And Quinn will stay focused and independent in her Victorian house with her inherited bakery and her determination to prove she doesn’t need anyone.
They’ll be perfectly civil neighbors who wave occasionally and otherwise leave each other alone.
That’s the plan.
And Quinn ignores the small voice in the back of her mind that whispers that the universe—and apparently the entire town of Maplewood—might have very different plans for both of them.
Reader Reactions