The Greening: a novel of romantic suspense...with a touch of magic (The Green Man Series Book 1)

by Sharon Brubaker

  The Mill Race Inn was a restaurant Sylvia had only read about. It was a restored mill where the wheel side of the restaurant was completely glass so that everyone could see the workings while the water spilled over the wheel and into the pond. It was candlelit and decorated with beautiful artwork and antiques. Headley had reserved a prime table where full view of the powerful wheel turning with water was viewed.

  Jim had obviously known Headley for a while. He gave his condolences regarding Anna and gave a brief account of Anna’s death to a shocked looking Natalie.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, putting her hand over Headley’s.

  That was it. He was hooked. Sylvia thought the other company had sent Natalie instead of the masculine sales counterpart, as probably, Headley’s reputation as a ladies man had gone around in some corporate circles. She began to relax. Natalie and Jim asked about her and her job. She didn’t have a lot to say other than the basics, but Headley gave them glowing reports of her stream watch efforts and innovative marketing ideas. They drank and ate a few appetizers. Sylvia couldn’t even imagine eating dinner after the delightful tidbits that had been brought to the table. Headley and Natalie obviously hit it off and were deep in conversation. She thought she could see a slight smirk from Jim, and asked him about his job. He told her briefly about his position and his employer, chemical company. He also told her about his wife and three kids before he sighed.

  “What’s wrong?” Sylvia asked.

  “I’m missing my kid’s game,” he said, “being away this weekend.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “Perhaps tomorrow when you stop at the Thurmont booth at Bay Days, we can put together a bag of goodies for your kids,” she suggested.

  He brightened and said ‘thanks.’

  Dinner was served. The restaurant was famous for their seafood dishes and each one of them had ordered something different. Delicate miniature vegetables adorned the plates and fresh hot breads were brought to the table. It was obvious that Natalie was making moves on Headley. Sylvia would have laughed out loud if she could have. Instead, she looked out the huge window and was mesmerized by the falling water over the waterwheel.

  “This is a pretty amazing piece of architecture,” Jim stated to her, “and engineering. I’m impressed!”

  “Hmmm?” Sylvia asked, “Oh, yes, it is lovely,” she said.

  Jim asked her some questions about the company and Sylvia apologized again stating that she was not part of the scientific end. She knew that the company combined organic and inorganic materials to produce a stellar fertilizer used worldwide, but she did not know the actual components to the fertilizer.

  Jim asked about the Superfund Cleanup sites. Sylvia was able to discuss the strategies that were used with the stream and her efforts to bring about community support with the stream watch efforts. She also mentioned they were working on stricter environmental controls with one of the recent hires, not mentioning Owen by name.

  By the end of dinner Jim and Natalie seemed interested in Thurmont. They wanted to discuss things further at the hotel and Sylvia begged to go home as she had an early day with Bay Days. Headley, completely smitten, looked forward to spending additional time with Natalie and was eager to drop Sylvia off at home. They said good night, and she wished them all a pleasant evening. Chuckling, she let herself into the house where she nearly ran over Owen who had heard the limousine and was standing in a shadow, waiting for her to come in.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “Headley!” Sylvia laughed, finally letting herself to roll with laughter. “He’s…such…an…ass!” she laughed in spurts as she talked.

  “I don’t understand,” Owen said, baffled.

  “I know,” Sylvia said, “and I know I’m a little tipsy,” she said.

  She went to the kitchen to pour herself a tall glass of water. After she controlled her giggles, she and Owen went out to the deck where the hot air had cooled considerably with the slight bay breeze. Owen lit the citronella candles and they sat in the chair and waited for the police to show up. Detective Josephson came with the female officer. The female officer helped her get the wire off.

  “Tell me about your evening,” Detective Josephson said.

  “I don’t know where to begin,” Sylvia said. “Headley thought he was going to put the moves on me, but this company threw a curve ball!” She started to laugh again. She told Owen and the detectives about Natalie and said she could and would lay bets that Headley would be sleeping with her tonight.

  “That company has Headley pegged,” Detective Josephson said.

  Officer Brown did not add any information, but smirked a little with a quirky smile.

  “Do you still need to go tomorrow?” Josephson asked.

  “As far as I know,” Sylvia said.

  “Don’t worry about a wire tomorrow,” he told her. “It sounds as though Headley will be otherwise occupied.”

  “Thanks,” Sylvia said.

  They said good night to the officers. Owen had his arm around her protectively and they went to lock doors and turn off the lights.

  “I’m tired!” Sylvia said emphatically. “C’mon. Let’s go to bed!” she suggested.

  She pulled Owen up and together they blew out the candles. Still chuckling, she pulled him up the stairs where he gently pulled off the bit of black jersey that she called a dress and then stood back to admire his handiwork before she pulled him to her.

  The forecast predicted hazy, hot and humid for Bay Days. Sylvia couldn’t remember it being different any other year. Bay Days to her were some of the most uncomfortable and stickiest days she could remember every single summer. She always wondered why they would not change the date to a more comfortable season. Sylvia was glad that she didn’t have to dress up for bay days. She put on a pair of fairly short white shorts and topped it off with the navy blue T-shirt emblazoned with ‘Thurmont’ in large red and white letters. She added a pair of socks and tennis shoes and pulled her hair back from her face with a headband. Mr. Carter had asked if she could arrive fairly early so that they could set up before the crowds started to arrive. Owen promised that he would help too. She showered, dressed and took coffee up to him, prodding him in the shoulder and wafting coffee fumes at him. He reached out and pulled her down beside him in the bed, tickling her until she asked for mercy.

  “C’mon!” she cried, “You promised you would help!” she said as she tried to pull away.

  Owen made a grunting sound and pulled her down beside him again and began kissing her.

  “Come on!” she said again. “I need to be there in a few minutes.”

  “You’re no fun, you know that,” he accused her teasingly.

  “I know,” she said, in mock despair. She pulled him out of bed before he pulled her back in to bed. She could not give in to the desire fluttering in her lower abdomen this morning.

  They drove to the town park and walked hand in hand to the Thurmont booth to find Mr. Carter frantic.

  “Look!” he cried. “Look at what happened! Damn it!” He was red with anger and sweating profusely in the heat that had started to build.

  Sylvia and Owen looked. Emblazoned in paint across one part of the tent were the words “Thurmont sucks.” Another message was “Thurmont kills” and “Murderers.”

  Sylvia was shocked. At first she thought the ‘Thurmont Sucks’ might be from teenagers, but the more esoteric graffiti was clearly by some sort of group that hated the company. Sylvia never imagined that it might come to Bay Days, thinking that the letters and calls they had been dealing with, in the public information office were rather benign. She could almost feel the hostility from the spray painted signs and it took them several minutes to stop gaping at the graffiti. Finally Owen took things in hand.

  “Look,” he said, “I’ll run to WalMart. They’re open 24 hours, and I’ll buy some green spray paint that matches the tent. We’ll spray over the graffiti and set up, okay?”

  Sylvia and Mr. Carte
r nodded. They were still speechless. When Owen left, Sylvia finally started to move, putting covers on the tables and starting to unload the pamphlets. She felt so naïve. Where had she been all those years at college? She must have been living in a bottle stuffed with cotton. It was if she was just beginning to wake up and this was quite a surprise to find that the world was not such a nice place sometimes. It was something that she had avoided since her father’s death so many years ago. She stopped unpacking and thought for a moment. It was silly to unpack and set everything up if Owen was going to spray paint. The residue from the spraying paint would likely land on all of their materials. She looked over at Mr. Carter heaving a box onto a table to tell him so and noticed he was grayer than usual and sweating profusely.

  “You don’t look so good,” she said, looking beyond and seeing the muddiness in his aura.

  “It’s this damn humidity with the heat,” he said, pulling out a large handkerchief and mopping his forehead.

  “Look,” Sylvia said, “We really can’t unpack anything until Owen sprays the tent.” She explained about the flying residue.

  “You’re right,” Mr. Carter puffed.

  “Why don’t you sit down,” she told him, pulling out one of the lawn chairs she had brought along. She glanced over at the parking lot. “Owen has my car. If you let me borrow your car, I can run and get us coffee or something cold,” she said.

  Mr. Carter sat down in the lawn chair gratefully. He fumbled in his pocket and finally pulled out his keys and tossed them to her. “Here you go,” he said. “Coffee and something cold, please,” he told her. He started to reach into his other pocket for cash, but Sylvia stopped him.

  “It’s on me,” she said lightly. “I’ll hurry,” she said.

  His health really began to worry her. She adjusted the seat in Mr. Carter’s car. It was filled with empty coffee cups, candy and fast food wrappers. She knew he lived on the road. She drove to a little grocer in town and grabbed some large bottles of cold water, a hot coffee and caffeinated sodas for Owen and herself and hurried back to the park. Owen was already there and Mr. Carter had moved his chair away from the tent and was squinting in the morning sunlight watching Owen. Sylvia handed him the coffee and the large water.

  “Thanks,” he told her.

  Sylvia popped the top on her soda and drank greedily. The sun that rose was hazy. She looked around the park. It was busy with vendors setting up tents and unloading cars. The regular walkers and bike riders were making their loop through the park along the path at the water’s edge. One young mother already had her children playing on the playground. Ducks and geese wandered in packs looking for handouts and a few fishermen were on the rock jetties that reached out into the bay. She was finally getting used to seeing a glow around everything. If she focused on an object, the aura would become more brilliant and easier to see. She turned to look at the tent. Owen’s efforts had helped. If you looked closely, you could still see the words, but faintly, under the green paint.

  Carol came up with her coffee and said, “Hi Syl! It’s a hot one, isn’t it?”

  Sylvia nodded and without missing a beat Carol asked how the previous night with Headley went. Before Sylvia could answer, Carol noticed what Owen was doing.

  “What the hell happened?” she demanded. She had pulled her dark pageboy back into a high ponytail and it was bouncing wildly as she gaped at the tent.

  “Someone vandalized the tent last night,” Mr. Carter explained.

  “Some of those friggin’ environmentalists,” Carol assumed.

  “We don’t know,” Owen said quietly, “but, that’s a good possibility.”

  “Yeah,” Mr. Carter said, “We had some minor threats this week, but I ignored it. Maybe it wasn’t such a smart idea, in hindsight.” He sighed.

  Sylvia looked at him, surprised. “No, I didn’t tell you,” he said. “I thought we had enough to worry about.

  Sylvia asked Mr. Carter to stay seated while they unpacked and set up. He didn’t argue, which Sylvia thought was a bad sign.

  “Keep an eye on him today, okay?” she asked Carol when they had gone to retrieve a box. “He doesn’t look well to me.”

  “I agree,” Carol said, “He looks a little gray around the gills.”

  “So tell me about last night!” Carol said.

  Sylvia went into a description of the night and how the executive from the other company pulled Headley’s attention away from her.

  “Smart people,” Carol commented.

  “That reminds me, I need to pull a couple of bags and goodies for Jim,” Sylvia said.

  “Who’s Jim?” Carol asked.

  “He’s another executive that came to have dinner last night. He’s missing his kid’s baseball playoffs for this sales meeting and he’s feeling really guilty,” Sylvia told her. “He’s a decent guy too,” she added.

  They put together some promotional bags. Owen was busy blowing up balloons and tying strings onto them and hanging them around the booth to disguise the vandalism. When Sylvia looked up, she was surprised to see how quickly the park was beginning to fill.

  “I haven’t been here in years,” she commented looking around.

  “People are getting here early,” Carol said, “so that they can get seats for the water ski shows.”

  “What time are Headley and the crew coming by?” Carol asked.

  “They’re coming here just before lunch,” Sylvia said. “We have reservations at the crab house in town,” she told her and then a helicopter ride over Thurmont property and the area before we come back to have dinner and sail on Headley’s boat.”

  “Whew! Full schedule!” Carol said.

  “No kidding,” Sylvia said.

  “Sorry I couldn’t get you out of it,” Mr. Carter commented from the back of the tent. “Short of breaking your leg, I didn’t think of anything,” he joked with her.

  “I’ll be okay,” she said. “I wasn’t kidding about the charms of Natalie Browne! Wait until you meet her!”

  The crowds drifted by slowly. Owen and Sylvia worked at blowing up balloons and tying ribbons on to hand out to children. Most people walked by. Sylvia noticed it was the freebies and the children wanting to have the pencil or balloon that actually brought most of the adults to stop by the booth. Carol worked at pre-stuffing car litter bags with brochures and information while Mr. Carter fielded questions. The morning went by quickly—too quickly for Sylvia’s sake. It was nearly lunchtime when she sent Owen away to grab lunches for Mr. Carter and Carol and to keep out of Headley’s way. He gave Sylvia a quick kiss and hug and told her he would see her at home. He left just in time as coming down the path from the opposite direction was Headley, with Jim and Natalie.

  “There she is,” Sylvia stage whispered to Carol.

  Carol put on her sunglasses and peered down the booths, while pretending to adjust the balloons but, looking at Natalie.

  “You weren’t kidding!” she whispered back. “She’s just his type. All glitz and glam and probably as poisonous as a man o’ war.”

  Headley and the crew came up to the booth. Headley made introductions and Sylvia pulled out the goody bags and handed them to Jim.

  “Thanks for remembering,” he said to her and he gave her a warm smile.

  “You all right with holding down the ship?” Headley asked Mr. Carter.

  “Of course,” Mr. Carter boomed. “I have a trusty first mate by my side,” he joked back to Headley indicating Carol with a wave. “Besides, the crowd will settle down with the water shows.”

  Headley nodded curtly to Mr. Carter and turned to Sylvia. “Ready?” he asked.

  “Sure,” she said. “Let me get my bag.”

  Carol went to the rear of the tent where they had put their handbags. “Good luck,” she whispered, pretending to get a lipstick out of her bag.

  “Thanks,” Sylvia whispered back.

  She scooted around the table and fell in step with Jim. They walked to the crab house. Headley ordered pitc
hers of beer and a huge amount of crabs. They talked and cracked peanuts and threw the shells on the floor. Natalie looked uncomfortable with the casual atmosphere at first, but after a couple of beers, she was cracking peanuts and throwing shells on the floor with everyone else. Headley made it his personal job to teach her how to crack and eat crabs. The luncheon was much more relaxed than dinner the previous night. Apparently Jim and Natalie had given Headley all of the information they requested and now they were relaxing and enjoying the day.

  Practically rolling out of the restaurant, they walked back to the park to pick up the helicopter Headley had hired for the afternoon. Other helicopter rides were being offered for $20.00 per ride. Sylvia knew that Headley had some local pull and was catered to by many of the businesses. The pilot jumped out of the copter and shook Headley’s hand. He quickly observed the group. Headley and Natalie volunteered to be in the back and Sylvia and Jim were by the doors. Flutters of nervousness swam through Sylvia’s stomach. She had never been in a small plane let alone a helicopter. It seemed so open and much too tiny for five people. The rotors began to turn, sounding like a large insect above their heads. The co pilot gave them instructions on keeping their arms down, how to secure the seatbelts and put on headsets for communication.

  Sylvia held her breath while they started to rise up from the ground. She gave a gasp. The pilot asked if she was okay.

  “It’s incredible!” she told him. “This is fantastic!”

  The pilot smiled and nodded. Jim nodded in agreement as well.