"Crystal could use an older sister figure," Ms. Cooper continued, taking the box of trash bags out of my hand and giving me a little push toward the lake. "And you could use a break. This is the smoothest any of our cleanup days has ever gone and we could all quit now without falling behind—Cuadic is lucky to have you."
The giddiness that had been shivering through my chest all day expanded at my teacher's words, especially since I knew that Ms. Cooper didn't pass out undeserved praise. All afternoon, I'd been floating not just on the aftereffects of Jack's kiss, but also on the heady realization that I was able to keep an event running as well or better than Brett ever had. So Ms. Cooper's reinforcement of that realization now made my face shine with a rare, true smile.
"Thanks," I told her, hoping that my gratitude would be understood to encompass all of the mothering Ms. Cooper had shown me over the years, not just the simple fact that she was spelling me from my duties now. Almost, but not quite, ready to call my teacher by her first name, I instead shot her another grateful smile before trotting out across the mud to meet Crystal.
***
I wish Lena were here. The thought pulled me out of my muddy trash-picking joy for a moment before I drifted back into the splendor of doing good, getting dirty, and exploring the outdoors—an exhilarating combo. It didn't hurt that Crystal and I got along like a house on fire, which is what had produced my wishful thought in the first place. This serious-minded, but funny, girl would be just the kind of local friend Lena needed.
"Hey, can you come help me with this?" Crystal called from the other side of a dead tree that had fallen out into the lake. I straddled the trunk and hauled my nearly-full trash bag across to join her...only to be met with a fistful of flying mud slamming into my shoulder. The soil was the perfect consistency for a mud fight—soft and smooth enough not to cause damage, dry enough to form into a ball, but still containing enough water to ooze down across my clothes and produce a completely irrecoverable stain. And, from the expression on Crystal's face, the teenager was now rethinking whether the sally had been a good idea...or a friendship breaker.
I didn't let her stew in her own juices for long. Dropping my trash bag, I scooped up a mud ball, and the war was on.
Ten minutes later, my companion and I were both brown from head to toe and were laughing so hysterically that we could barely walk straight. Crystal had suggested a dip in the lake to clean off, but I'd promised her a ratty old towel from my car to keep her seats clean on the way home instead. Wet mud is even worse on upholstery than dry mud, and I'd seen the fancy vehicle Crystal drove up in. Her parents wouldn't be thrilled if their kid's volunteer session resulted in a multiple-hundred-dollar cleaning bill.
As for myself, I knew that mud would be barely noticeable amid twenty-odd years of grime in my rust bucket's fabric, so I simply enjoyed the moment, sun on my face, friend by my side, and a trash bag completely full of found garbage. The lake had been emptying over the last half hour or so, and I knew that all we had to do now was to throw the last few trash bags into Tom's truck to be hauled to the dump, then I could go home and soak in a hot bath while reliving every moment of this glorious day.
But, as I looked across the mostly bare parking lot, it became clear that my work day wasn't over quite yet. Ms. Cooper had accumulated companions over the last half hour, and not ones I was looking forward to speaking with.
On any other day, Cora and her television crew would have been good news. Most of the local journalists did their level best to make Cuadic out to be a band of kooky out-of-towners, but Cora was sympathetic to our cause. The reporter never came out and said she was opposed to Clean Power's plant, but she always lobbed questions our way that helped us present our stance in the best possible light, which meant the resulting articles tended to lean in Cuadic's favor.
And today's event was a no-brainer. Turning Emerald Lake back into an immaculate community playground would definitely make Cuadic look good...as long as the spokesperson for the organization didn't show up so embedded with soil that you couldn't quite find her face beneath the mud.
I shot Ms. Cooper a please-help-me-escape look, but the traitor only smiled and mouthed Camera's rolling. I could almost hear the teacher deciding that televising Cuadic's organizer smeared in the signs of her good deeds would give us extra street cred, and I could see her point. The trouble was, all that mud meant I would have to be twice as articulate as usual if I wanted to be taken seriously, and on-demand public speaking was far from my strong suit.
"Eep!" The little squeak from my companion proved that Crystal had noticed our nemesis as well, and I quickly grabbed the girl's arm to prevent her escape. If I was going into battle, then my new friend was coming along.
"I'm joining you live today from Emerald Lake where Cuadic volunteers are just finishing up a successful trash cleanup," Cora said into the microphone. Live! Yikes! Cora was kind to warn me that she wouldn't be able to edit out any "um"s and "er"s, but the reporter's cautionary statement was also making me a bit weak at the knees. Luckily, the camera guy was turning to film Ms. Cooper as Cora asked about the sheer quantity of garbage our volunteers had hauled out of the lake.
But our reprieve was short-lived. "How about you, Virginia? What was the most interesting piece of trash you found today?" Cora asked, her eyes twinkling as she eased me into the interview.
"Definitely this homemade cassette in a ziplock bag," I answered, pulling the old-fashioned sound equipment out of my pocket. "I'm going to take it home and find a tape deck to listen to the contents, hopefully find out why someone wanted to protect their music but also chose to throw it away."
"Hear that?" Cora said, speaking directly to our audience now. "If Virginia has your top-secret confession that was tossed into Emerald Lake by accident, you now know where to find it. But, more seriously, I know many of our viewers are interested in Cuadic's most talked-about project, your attempt to bar Clean Power's plant from being located on the outskirts of town. I also noticed that your cleanup today was full of local young people. Are you concerned about the argument that this power plant is essential to provide jobs that will keep our youth from leaving the area?"
"No," I replied, thankful that Cora had posed her question in this manner, making it easy to rebut. "Young people are one of the biggest reasons I oppose bringing another coal-fired power plant to our region. Kids like these don't want to grow up to be coalminers—they want to start a kayak-rental company or to build an internet business bringing their ingenuity to the world. And they also want a clean, beautiful landscape to play in during their downtime, which means that they won't start those businesses here if our environment is compromised. The proposed power plant will just make the brain drain worse when all of our best and brightest kids go off to college and then choose not to come home."
"How about you, Crystal?" Cora asked, the spotlight turning away from me as I exhaled a huge (but silent) sigh of relief. "I understand you're spending the summer working in the office of your father's coal company. Does the fact that coal is sending you to college make you more inclined to think Clean Power's plant is a good idea?"
I almost staggered back a step, but kept my game face on with an effort, knowing the camera might still pick me up at the edge of its lens. Suddenly, Crystal's fancy car made more sense. This was the Señora's daughter, whose other parent was the richest coal-mining magnate in the area. I couldn't believe Ms. Cooper hadn't shared the girl's identity with me...and at the same time I was glad for my previous ignorance. Would I have given Crystal a chance to prove her obvious worth if I'd known about her pedigree? Which also made me wonder whether I'd been giving the Señora a bum rap all this time by refusing to look beneath the surface.
Beside me, Crystal was nailing her interview in yet more proof that the girl had an iron backbone hidden beneath her girlish exterior. "I'm excited to get to attend Stanford in the fall," she was saying. "But I'd like my neighbors to have the same opportunities I received. I've been trying to talk
Dad into diversifying into cleaner industries, maybe planting chestnut trees and hazelnut bushes on reclaimed strip mine sites as a way to rebuild the land while also producing food. That's what I want to study in college—restoration agriculture."
"A lofty goal," Cora agreed. "But was Virginia right? Would a coal-fired power plant make you less likely to move back to our region after graduation?"
I could see Crystal trying to decide how far she wanted to tiptoe out onto the limb she was navigating. The girl was walking a fine line, not yet having come out against the industry that paid her bills, and she paused to shoot a quick glance in my direction. I smiled at my companion, trying to let her know that I understood if she couldn't provide a verbal slap to her father's face on local TV.
But perhaps Crystal read my facial expression differently, as encouragement to take an unpopular stance that we both believed in our hearts was the right one. "Yes," the teenager said at last, her eyes now firmly trained on the camera. "I love our mountains, but if this power plant goes through, I'll move somewhere else, somewhere cleaner and safer."
Ms. Cooper's beaming face was a benediction for both of us, and I was glad when the camera powered down, allowing me to pull Crystal into a heartfelt hug. She'd nailed it.
Chapter 15
Jack's envelope of cash provided more than enough funding to pay my monthly lot fee, but I opted to wait and beard my landlord in his den Friday morning rather than hunting him down during my two days off. I hoped that, if I had an appointment looming, Mr. Reed wouldn't be able to harass me for long. Plus, since my neighbor usually slept in, I might be able to simply slip the rent envelope under his door, then skedaddle without speaking to my skeevy landlord.
No such luck. Weather-stripping around the door made the endeavor harder than I thought it would be, and I had barely poked the first edge of my lot rent into the gap when the door swung open in front of me.
"I saw you on TV the other night," Mr. Reed said by way of greeting.
My landlord's words hung heavily in the air, and I peered up at his looming form. I was crouched down in an accidental grovel, and the unusual vantage point made it even more clear how drastically I was outweighed by the man I was forced to deal with on a near-daily basis. Usually, I just found Mr. Reed's presence annoying, but the way he was obviously relishing my abasement sent a trickle of fear down my spine. So I shot to my feet as quickly as possible and responded as eloquently as I could muster: "Um."
"You know, my daddy and granddaddy and great granddaddy were all coalminers," Mr. Reed continued, his words companionable but his tone much more menacing than the simple sentence would have suggested. Of course my unsavory neighbor would be on the other side of the power-plant issue. But I wasn't quite sure where he was going with this trip down memory lane.
"I'm proud of my heritage," my landlord continued, taking a step toward me and closing the gap that I'd opened up. I wanted to retreat further, but knew I'd fall off the edge of the porch at some point, and I didn't dare take my eyes off the man in front of me in order to look behind and gauge the distance. Abruptly, I wished that I'd mentioned to Jack that I intended to drop off my lot rent on my way to his house this morning. If I didn't show up on time, would my employer come looking for me? And was Mr. Reed really far enough off his rocker to take the step from verbal intimidation into outright physical violence?
"I brought the lot rent," I said inanely, waving the envelope between us like a peace offering. And, to my surprise, the distraction worked. Mr. Reed plucked the money out of my hand and immediately began shuffling through the bills, his lips moving as he counted in his head.
Although leaving now would be rude, I was quite willing to take this opportunity to escape, so I turned away rather than waiting for my neighbor to finish his math. I'd already reached the steps leading down to the street when Mr. Reed's words stopped me in my tracks. "You're short."
For a second, I assumed he was referring to my height, and I turned, puzzled by the non sequitur. But my landlord was waving twenty-dollar bills in one hand, and I realized he meant I hadn't paid enough. Which made no sense.... "There's two-hundred dollars in there," I started, but Mr. Reed didn't let me finish.
"I told you last week that I'd been giving you the friends-and-family rate," my landlord responded, a smile I didn't trust spreading across his fleshy lips. "If you only pay two Benjamins, then I expect other...benefits." He leered and I shivered despite the warmth that was already beginning to fill the morning air.
Any other month, I would have been stuck, having barely scraped together enough funds to hand over the two hundred I really owed. But not this time. Jack had been extremely generous in remunerating my efforts while he was absent, and my wallet was now brimming will bills. "How much more do I owe you then?" I demanded, opening my billfold and yanking out another five twenties. "Is three hundred dollars per month enough to perch on a half-acre of land in the middle of nowhere?" I was too angry to be scared now as I strode back across the porch to thrust the money into Mr. Reed's hands.
Greed and lechery warred on my landlord's face, and, to my relief, the former won out. "For now," Mr. Reed answered, snatching the bills. Without a farewell, he retreated back into his house and slammed the door in my face.
***
"Are you sure you don't mind watching Florabelle while we're gone?" I asked, entering the Reynolds mansion with bird cage in hand. Jack had promised that his housekeeper would feed and water my pet in our absence, but I didn't feel comfortable abandoning Florabelle without some reassurance from Shirley herself.
"I have five grandkids and thirteen great grandbabies," the kindly matron said by way of reply, plucking the basket of food and supplies out of my grip. "Between them, they own ten dogs, a dozen cats, three goldfish, a hamster, two guinea pigs, and a pony. I pet sit for every one of those children. Don't you worry, sugar—your bird will be fine."
"I really appreciate it," I said, accepting her credentials and shooting the housekeeper a grateful smile. "If you have trouble, you can call us and I'll find a way to get back early...."
"Sugar, Mr. Reynolds isn't going to let you out of his grasp one minute sooner than he has to," Shirley replied, pursing her lips in what almost looked like suppressed glee. I wanted to ask what she meant by that curious statement, but we'd already reached the closed door at the end of the hall, which caused my thoughts to skip onto another track.
"Does Jack really want Florabelle to stay in his office?" I asked, daunted by the polished wooden portal. This was the one room on the ground floor that I'd yet to enter, not wanting to impinge upon Jack's privacy. I had to admit, though, that I was curious. Would Jack's workspace look more personalized than the rest of the house, or would Mr. Fish Sticks' surface elegance reign here as well?
"It's the least drafty spot in the whole house, sugar," Shirley said confidently, making me wonder which Reynolds had researched the air-quality requirements of cockatiels. "Mr. Reynolds said to show you right in as soon as you arrived." The housekeeper pushed the door open as she spoke, then abandoned me to enter the room alone. I shot a beseeching glance at her retreating backside, then took a deep breath and stepped into Jack's domain.
"...I'm on top of it," my employer was saying into his phone as I crossed the threshold. Jack seemed intent upon the call when the door swung open, but his eyes immediately sought out mine, and he quickly motioned me inside rather than waving me away.
Unsure of my welcome, but equally unwilling to disobey a direct order, I took a few steps forward and set Florabelle's cage on the floor while I surveyed the room. The books on Jack's shelves appeared to be in use, unlike the ones in the mansion's main library, and I could just make out a photo of Lena wearing old-fashioned pilot goggles, the front of the picture angled toward Jack on the edge of his messy desk. On the other hand, the piece of furniture that these items rested upon was huge and gleaming, made of a dark wood that I suspected had immediately recognizable financial implications to the upper crust, and t
he rest of the room was decorated with similar opulence. His office, in fact, reminded me very much of Jack—richly handsome on the outside but perhaps a little more interesting underneath.
"Yes, it is surprising that a little podunk town could muster such quality opposition," Jack said after a pause, and my gaze shot back in his direction. I suddenly knew that my employer was talking about Cuadic, and any pleasant feelings I might have been harboring about Jack's office abruptly vanished as I remembered that my boss was doing his level best to increase the cancer rates in our region and to line his own pockets in the process. Maybe this college tour (and the kiss that had preceded it) was a very bad idea.
But Jack's blue eyes held mine with such intensity that I was forced to recall the spiraling pleasure of our embrace, and I felt my body relax into the memory. Nothing that felt so good could be entirely bad, right?
"I agree—she looked quite enticing dressed in mud," Jack said into the phone, and his smirk suggested that the sentence had been uttered for my benefit as much as for whoever was on the other end of the line. "Don't worry. I'll get her off our backs," my employer went on.
Once again, my heart rose, only to plummet into my feet, making me feel a bit nauseous from the speed of my changing emotions. "Enticing" sounded good, but it pained me to think that Mr. Fish Sticks was so confident about his strategy to take Cuadic down that he would plan his tactics right in front of my nose. Did my employer think he could simply command me to bow off the battlefield and expect instant obedience?
But Jack's brow had lowered as he took in my pained expression, and the businessman was now scrawling on a sheet of paper even as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. My employer nudged the finished missive in my direction, entreating me with his eyes to pick it up, and, despite the urge to grab Florabelle and run as fast as I could in the other direction, I instead took the ten steps required to reach Jack's desk and read his note.
Despite the Gentleman's Riches: Sweet Billionaire Romance (For Richer or Poorer Book 1) Page 11
