by Ciara Knight
She took a step back. “You can’t let them get away with this.”
Dustin cleared his throat. “I’m with Rhonda on this. Is there nothing I can do to proceed today? They’re breaking the law. For the record, I have the paperwork and permission from the town to complete this job. The sign was posted, and all legal measures were taken.”
“Were they?” The sheriff plopped his hat back on and marched to his car. “Their property. That’s her daddy’s place. The place of a friend and former marine brother.” He opened his car door. “This is her property legally, and I can’t enforce removing her from her own place. And for the record, as long as it is within the bounds of the law, I’m Team Trace.”
Chapter Seven
The night air cooled Trace’s stripe of sunburned skin on her arm where the light had cut through the broken section of the roof. She’d lived near the water for her entire life and managed to avoid sun damage until today. Damage that would leave a permanent mark on her nose and cheeks and soul if she lost this battle to keep her father’s home from being torn down.
The last ray of light seeped through the trees behind her, and she imagined the green flash announcing the day’s end.
As much as she’d urged Jewels to take a break and go home to check on Bri and Houdini, the darkness creaping in around Trace reminded her how alone she truly was in the world. Alone in her guilt.
Crack. Snap. Crunch.
Trace pushed her back against the wall and shimmied to stand, the chains rolling down her body from neck to hips. The constraints were nothing compared to the way she failed a man who gave up everything for her to have a great life.
She took in a deep breath of rust and regrets. “I’m not leaving, so don’t think you’ll tear this down in the middle of the night.”
“You’re moving, but no one’s tearing anything down. Not while I’m here.”
Trace’s friend turned prominent attorney spoke with such authority, the tension in Trace’s arms released enough to feel how sore her neck and body were.
“What’re you doing here?”
A line of true friends exited the woods. Wind brushed leaves from her hair, Jewels waved, and Kat stomped across the lawn to the front porch.
“Great, first sign of heatstroke is confusion,” Kat said.
Trace pushed air into her cheeks like a pufferfish and then blew it out like a whale. “No, we’ve argued this point for over thirty years. The first sign of a heat stroke is headache.”
“Nope, upset stomach.” Wind rubbed her belly with one hand and pressed the back of her palm to her forehead with the other. “I should know. I’m suffering heat exhaustion from the walk.”
Jewels flipped her hand at Wind like a crossing guard to a speeding car. “Stop. You promised, no complaining.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were. And we all know that the first sign of heat exhaustion is muscle cramps.” Jewels sauntered to Trace, pulled the small key from her pocket, shoved it into the padlock, and turned. The arm snapped free and the chains loosened, but Trace held them tight to make sure they didn’t fall to the ground.
She scanned the tree line. “What if Team Dustin shows again?”
Wind slid a finger under her right eye and swiped some melting black mascara goo from her bottom lid. “Team Dustin?”
“Yeah. She printed a shirt that said that and strutted around here like a peacock in mating season.” Trace smacked her lips, trying to alleviate dryness on her tongue.
Kat grabbed the chain and tugged. “Get out of there. You need a break. Jewels, you take her back to your place and get her some food.”
“Not leaving my post. If Dustin catches sight of me, he’ll mow over this place.”
Kat unfurled her fingers, and the chain dropped to the ground. “I’m here now.”
“Hey, what about me? I didn’t walk over here to look pretty,” Wind said in a breezy tone.
Kat turned to Wind, arms and attitude crossed. “We’ll be here. As a matter of fact, Wind offered to take your place.”
“What? Me?” Wind flipped her hair. “Nope. Not happening. I’m not a fighter.” She eyed her nails. “Besides, I just got a manicure. I can’t damage the polish on that death rope. You do it.”
“I’m going to go fight with the county. I’ve already got a meeting set up over the sale of my parents’ estate, so that’ll get me in the door.” Kat cracked her knuckles. “I’ll stop this legally.”
“Can you do that?” Wind shrugged and then tip-toed up the front porch like a fairy in a ballet. “If so, I’m happy to stand guard for Trace.”
“No. It’s my fight. I’ll stand guard.”
Jewels nudged Trace a step farther from the chains and then slid them up around her own middle and snapped the lock into place. “I’ll stay. Wind, you take Trace to eat. Kat will go see if she can do anything to help legally. Although I’m sure the offices are already closed for today. If so, you can return to my place and send Wind over in a few hours to do her shift.”
Kat pushed up her sleeves. “I’ll take the watch after that.”
Trace shook her head and touched Wind’s silky, impractical sleeve. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll take a break for an hour and then return.”
Wind’s face softened. Her right eyebrow lifted in encouragement, and the left side of her mouth drooped with disappointment. A battle between filler and Botox ensued in a strange war of emotions. “No. I’ll take my shift. What are Freindsters for?” She winked. “I might need to borrow something to wear that rust stains won’t ruin. I’m sure you have something.”
Kat huffed. “Who asked you to wear stilettos and silk to a sandy, buggy, outdoor beachside fight?”
“When Jewels said we needed to help Trace with a fight, I assumed a cocktail party to save the dolphins.”
Jewels laughed with a lightness that drew everyone’s attention. “Seriously? Since when does Trace do parties and social events? You should’ve known to bring a flashlight and bolt cutters to any Trace occasion.”
Kat nodded her agreement, and Trace shrugged. “Can’t argue with that. How did you not know that, Wind? Trust me, you’re better off in the theater and theatrics than conservation and crime.” She toed at a beetle climbing a stick. “Besides, trust me when I say all of you should let me handle this. I don’t want to drag you guys into anything that isn’t your fight.”
Wind slid her arm around Trace and squeezed tight. “If it’s your fight, it’s our fight. We’re more than Friends. We’re sisters.”
For a second, Trace wished that they’d been around on the oil rig, because they would’ve snapped her out of the trance Robert Remming had her in and then Matt would’ve survived.
“Good. You can take the midnight shift,” Kat said over her shoulder before she reached the trail toward the main road.
“Midnight? I need my beauty sleep,” Wind shouted after her.
“Bring a pillow.” Kat disappeared beyond the tree line, and Trace looked to Jewels, standing behind the chains.
Guilt sucked the fight out of Trace. “I can’t ask you to betray Trevor like this. I don’t want to be the cause of a fight between you two.”
“Don’t worry about that. Trevor and I are fine. Besides, I’ve known Trevor for months. I’ve known you for almost all my fifty years. Now go get some rest.”
Trace stood eyeing her father’s house and wishing she could do more, but Jewels was right. Exhaustion was taking hold, and she needed some rest if she was going to keep fighting.
“Thanks. You ladies are the best friends any woman could ever ask for in her life. Even if I don’t deserve it.” Her mumbles slipped out, but to her relief, none of her friends acknowledged them. She shuffled through the woods and decided to walk to the main road to avoid crossing behind Trevor’s house so she didn’t have to chance running into Dustin.
“Hey, hold up. Woman in heels here.” Wind ran on her toes to catch Trace at the edge of the road. “I don’t know how all this got so
out of hand. I’m going to go speak with Dustin after we get you fed and in bed.”
Trace fought the twinge of jealousy that she’d felt each time she’d seen Wind with Dustin. Why? She had no clue. The man was impossible. “No. I don’t want to strain any more relationships.” She nearly choked on her last word.
Wind grabbed onto Trace’s shoulder to slow her down. “Dustin was a distraction while I was here for a while. Nothing more. I’d never choose him over my friends.”
Trace didn’t have a chance to argue before they spotted Dustin, Trevor, Rhonda, and marine shop owner Skip on Main Street. All of them huddled together outside the courthouse, but there was no sign of Kat.
Her pulse quickened. She wanted to race across the road and pick a fight with them here and now instead of waiting for the county to decide. No way the county would ever agree to tear down her home. It had been some sort of backchannel, slip-through-the-cracks Rhonda tactic that had let it even get this far. Before Trace could form her words to go speak to them, Wind abandoned Trace’s side and marched across the road.
Horns blared and cars swerved. Trace held her breath until Wind and her dramatics made it safely across the street. Dustin looked like a suicidal squirrel eyeing an escape route through traffic. His hands shot up in front of him, but Trace couldn’t hear a word they were saying from her side of the road.
Once the one town light changed, she made her way across the street, eyeing the flyers Rhonda passed out to each stopped car. One of them caught a breeze and landed a few steps away. Trace picked it up. The headline read: Rats, Roaches, and Rabid Rodents Take Over Summer Island.
A picture of her father’s house from an angle that made the structure look dilapidated and abandoned drove the point into the heart. Underneath the awful picture and loaded headline, it rambled on about the safety of their island and home prices and town pride, all pointing at the one eyesore of their community. It was a call for votes to have the county take over land that had been neglected after the passing of one of their own. A man who cared about his community. And the failure of his daughter to take care of his legacy made it a town problem.
Trace crumpled the paper into her fists, but before she could have words with the childhood enemy turned adult villain, Wind snagged her by the hand and yanked her away.
“What are you doing? I need to stop this garbage being distributed.”
Wind didn’t listen. She only hightailed it across to Jewels’s house. “Can you believe that man? I’m going to take him down. This is personal now.”
“Now?” Trace lifted both her brows. “Ah, always been personal.”
“Right. Of course.” Wind kicked off her shoes and snagged her pink and purple suitcase with an image of one of her shows tattooed to the outside of it. “I mean that this isn’t only about the land and property. It isn’t motivated by what’s right. It’s motivated out of a sick stick-it-to-the-friends-who-never-accepted-me cause. A cause Rhonda chose to start in middle school when she drew a literal line in the sand and told me not to cross it. Oh, I’m crossing now. How can a grown-up be so immature? I’m gonna pull her mousy, greasy hair from her head.”
“Yep, that’s the mature way to handle it.” Trace plopped down on the couch, the fight fleeing her body for a moment in exchange for resting her swollen feet and aching back.
“She wants to play dirty? I’m going to get some mud.” She slid on some flats, grabbed her purse and keys, and headed for the door. “Oh, sorry. You’ll be okay here, right? I mean, you can get something to eat and all?”
“Yes, but where are you going?”
Wind stormed into the kitchen.
Houdini heard the call and raced into the room. He scurried up onto the couch, her secret letter in his mouth.
Trace’s throat went Mojave Desert dry. She grabbed hold and glowered at him until he released it. She collapsed back and tucked the letter under her hip. She needed to find a new hiding spot or shred or burn it.
“It’s time to get the townspeople on Team Trace,” Wind said before downing a glass of water.
Exhaustion took hold, and Trace closed her eyes. Houdini took it as an engraved invitation for lap time. She welcomed his soft fur between her fingers and his therapeutic, relaxing purr. “No. I don’t want this to be a town problem. I only want to let Kat work her magic and save my dad’s place. She’ll be back soon with good news, I’m sure of it.”
Wind’s phone played some Broadway song, causing Trace to open her eyes.
Houdini coiled into a ball and snored.
“Really? According to the text Kat just sent, we’ll need to be present at the town meeting tomorrow if you want to keep your house and land. Apparently Rhonda has a development company in her back pocket willing to pay big money for her property, but the county would need to extend the road through your land. They’ll offer fair market value for the property.”
Trace shot up, nervous energy pushing aside her body-crying, toe-swelling, back-aching exhaustion. “That can’t be true. They don’t have the right. I just won’t sell.”
“I don’t trust Rhonda. I’m sure she has another plan to make this happen, even if you refuse to sell. I’m not going to stay here and let her win. Trust me. I’ll take care of this. Team Trace will win.”
She didn’t get a chance to argue with Wind, who slammed her glass on the counter and took off on a rampage. Wind on a rampage was like a stiletto-wearing bull in a porcelain factory.
Chapter Eight
“I’m not wearing that.” Dustin refused to even touch the purple T-shirt with Team Dustin written in swirly letters. Not even after the warnings Rhonda had whispered in his ears before she finally left Trevor’s house last night, not even after this morning when she showed up with coffee, coaxing conversation, and not even when she’d returned for a free meal. Nope. No way he’d ever wear that girly billboard.
Trevor’s house wasn’t big enough for Rhonda’s drama, Trevor’s evil looks, and his peace.
Rhonda sighed like a two-year-old forced to stand in a line at Disney World. “You want to win, don’t you?”
“Win? You make it sound like we’re playing a game.” Dustin huffed and abandoned the too-small table he’d been forced to eat at knee-to-knee with Rhonda.
Trevor fled the few paces to the kitchen, but not without a comment. “I’m with Dustin. Let’s keep things civil. This is her father’s home, right?”
“Civil?” Rhonda screeched like a seagull with a head cold. “You think they’ll be civil? They’re going around town soliciting votes for the meeting. If you don’t work harder, they’ll win.”
“Win what?” Trevor grumbled. “It’s her house. It should be her decision.”
“Correction. Father’s house. A house she abandoned along with her so-called family the minute she could leave to go pull stunts that would cost millions of dollars to large companies.”
Dustin shifted between his guilt at tearing down any home and his desire not to cave for an exhausting, stubborn Trace who, according to Rhonda, only cared about winning and nothing about her father’s legacy. “Let’s just go to the meeting, behave like professionals, and we should be fine. The only thing I care about is getting that stop order removed. If she’ll agree to that, she can keep her father’s home.”
“Don’t you go goody-boy on me. We had a deal. You tear down that house, and I get that injunction lifted.”
Heat surged over Dustin’s skin. “I originally agreed to tear down the shack. I didn’t know you meant her home. You misled me.”
“Miscommunicated,” she huffed with a nostril flare. “You owe me. I took on your problem, and you promised to have my back.”
Trevor shot an I-told-you-you’re-an-idiot smile at Dustin.
Dustin gritted his teeth and took his dish to the kitchen. “I didn’t realize it was blackmail.”
“It’s not.” Rhonda flipped her tone faster than a dinghy capsized in a storm. “You don’t know the women the way I do.” She pushed her shoulders
back, extending her Team-Dustin-covered breasts out. “They are the evil ones here, not me. I’m only trying to help. It’s because of Trace that my father’s business shut down—due to one of her so-called protests. She not only ended his career but my parents’ marriage. Trust me. Don’t believe a word that woman says.”
Dustin took a breath and willed himself not to ask, but he was a man of facts when it came to business. “How did she put your father’s company out of business?”
The shade of hell didn’t describe the color change in Rhonda’s face. “She told everyone in town he was harming the environment with his pesticides. That he single-handedly drove away the bee population that provided honey and nutrients to our local plants. Jewels jumped on board and even created some blob of clay that was supposed to resemble a honeycomb that was placed in some glass box on display.”
Dustin remembered Trevor mentioning something about that a few months ago when he first started dating Jewels. “I understand. That’s why I spent all night going over the historical zoning laws and presenting a new development plan to the county.” He flipped his wrist to discover they only had a few minutes before they had to leave. “I need to go shower and shave. We’ll meet you there in twenty.”
Rhonda side-stepped, blocking his exit from the living area toward the stairs to the only indoor shower. “Remember, you let them get away with not tearing down that shack, and you won’t ever win your fight for the hotel.”
The heat from her attitude seared his disposition. He wouldn’t let anyone, not even Rhonda, overstep when it came to his business. “I know you want that house torn down for a view and that you’re using me to get that done. I’ll do what I can to help your cause since you’ve tried to help me, but I won’t be bullied into it.”
“Bullied?” She laughed like a ferret on helium. “I’m not the bully. Remember that. If you allow them to win on one count, they’ll win on all of them. Don’t complain to me when you lose the war, because I’ve warned you. That’s all I can do. I’m the good witch in this story.”
