“You have no idea what a pleasure it is talking with you. This parcel seems perfect, based on what you’ve said. Of course...” Rudy narrowed his eyes. “I’ve thought that before. That’s why we keep coming back to you on this land. This makes the fourth ‘perfect’ piece of land I’ve looked at for this project. Something always goes south at the last minute, and I can tell you, I’m real tired of shucking out option money for property we don’t acquire.”
“So if your project is so great for the community, why aren’t more towns vying for it?” Penelope couldn’t help asking.
Grandpa shot her a warning look.
“Good question,” Rudy answered, sitting back in his chair. “Tell me and we’ll both know. All you have to do is say the words ‘solid-waste facility’ and people start screaming. They won’t even listen. They picket their county commissions. They picket their land-use boards. They scream about how we’re trucking in garbage.”
“But they have a point,” Penelope said, ignoring Grandpa’s intake of breath.
“People don’t understand. You use this stuff, you put it in the trash, somebody’s gotta do something with it. At least I’m sorting it and recycling what I can. It’s all done by computer, using robotic equipment. It goes in as mountains of garbage, and it either comes out as recyclable plastic or paper or very clean smoke and steam.”
Todd leaned across the table and tapped the copy of the plat they’d been studying. “That’s why our company is willing to pay you at least twice what the market value is for this land. Because, even though Brazelton County has no zoning or land-use ordinances in its incorporated areas, Rudy knows you’re going to have to deal with a lot of grief. And because, frankly, his investors are getting nervous. If Rudy doesn’t get the ground-breaking done on this within the next year, well...”
“Now, Todd, let’s not make it sound so dire. Yeah, my money guys want me to expand, and they’re willing to pony up the dollars to do that. They’re not going to wait forever, that’s true enough.”
Penelope examined the facility’s blueprints. It looked full to the brim of modern technology and robotics. “But how many actual jobs would this bring to the community?”
Todd and Rudy exchanged a brief look. “Well, you know, nobody actually wants to handle garbage. So we use a lot of equipment.”
“How many jobs?” she insisted.
“Maybe twenty-five, fifty, to start.”
“And then?”
“Well, it depends. On company profits and feasibility.”
Rudy must have seen she wasn’t pleased with Todd’s answer. “Of course we’ll add more jobs. But this is a poor area of the state, Ms. Langston. And any jobs are better than no jobs. Plus, these will be high-paying jobs.”
They answered her other questions with something Penelope could only call slick. Grandpa seemed to buy their pat answers.
She willed him to see through it, to see these two as she saw them. Couldn’t he see the way they hesitated, a fraction, before answering? How they put their fingers to their mouths as they replied to one of her tougher questions?
Maybe he does notice, but he’s not saying anything.
Grandpa Murphy remained upbeat as the four of them rode out to the abandoned rail spur at the far end of Penelope’s land.
Rudy stomped around, shaded his eyes and nodded in satisfaction. “Creek’s that way?” he asked.
“Yes,” Penelope said. “And that’s an unpaved county road that divides the property.”
“You’d have to talk to the county commission,” Grandpa said, “but since this road has no houses on it now, I’d say that a quitclaim was a definite probability.”
“Perfect,” Rudy said. “I like it. This looks perfect.”
“Now, to show you we’re seriously interested in this parcel, we’re willing to put up a quarter of the purchase price as an option payment,” Todd said. The way he fixed his eyes on Penelope in a hard, assessing stare reminded her of a rattler just before it strikes. “Of course, for that much in-earnest money, we’ll need a fairly in-depth options contract.”
“Of course,” Grandpa replied for her. “You folks want to be sure you’ve got a deal.” Penelope wanted to shake him, to yell at him until he came out of whatever kind of spell this was.
Grandpa gave her a meaningful glance and jerked his head. He obviously expected her to say something at this point.
Say what? “Where’s the dotted line?”
Penelope cleared her throat. “You can talk big fat percentages all you want, but until you make me a firm offer, I can’t possibly entertain tying up the land.”
Todd and Rudy looked at each other. Rudy nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Well...” Todd covered his mouth again and cleared his throat. “Providing all this checks out, of course, we’re prepared to offer you ten grand.”
Penelope laughed. The constriction around her lungs eased at the lowball price they’d given her. She could turn this offer down immediately. “Ten thousand? You have got to be out of your mind!”
Todd looked to Rudy and when Rudy nodded again, Todd said, “Okay, we’ll go to fifteen grand an acre, but that’s it.”
“Fifteen thousand an acre?” she choked out. “For twenty-five acres?”
“Anything else, and we have to get approval from our full board of directors,” Rudy told her. “But give us a firm option today, and we can write you a check for a quarter of that.”
Three hundred seventy-five thousand dollars? For farmland she paid two thousand an acre for? What kind of operation were they putting here?
Penelope’s senses went on full alert. She glanced from Rudy to Todd to Grandpa Murphy, all eagerness for her to say yes.
She couldn’t endure it. She wheeled slowly around. Her eyes followed the lay of the land as she made her turn. Could she do this? Could she sell this land out from under Brandon and let it be scarred by garbage?
She spotted Brandon at the fence. He was watching them, she realized. This time, he didn’t stand so straight. This time, even from this distance, she could see how his whole body drooped in defeat.
In one fell swoop, she could rescue her grandfather, give him all the resources he needed for his legal defense, and she could wound Brandon where it hurt the most.
Say no.
Grandpa Murphy jostled her elbow. In her ear, he muttered, “Penny-girl, they’re waiting! This money will help me pay my lawyers, keep me out of prison. I gotta have it. Tell ’em yes.”
She tore her gaze from Brandon. “Grandpa,” she said, patting him on the chest. “We have to be sure. Besides...” How to buy time? “If they’ll pay fifteen, who’s to say they won’t pay twenty?”
Her grandfather’s eyes lit up. “Now you’re thinking like a businesswoman. You’re right, don’t look too eager.”
Penelope addressed Rudy and Todd. “I think to short-circuit all that community protest you talked about, perhaps you should meet with the county commissioners, maybe even have a public hearing.”
They didn’t look happy. “Well, we’re not required—there’s no zoning ordinance,” Todd said.
“My grandfather’s assured me of that. But I’d like to do this as transparently as possible. So? What’s your answer?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
BRANDON SAT on the end of Ryan MacIntosh’s dock, a handful of pebbles in his hand. Ryan and Sean Courtland leaned up against the dock’s railing.
When he tossed the pebbles, one by one, instead of skipping across the surface of the dark water, most of them sank.
“So these waste dump people, they’re on the up-and-up?” Brandon asked. He’d called Sean from the field that day, gave him the name of Mid-Florida Environmental and asked him to find out what he could. It had only taken a couple of days for Sean to get the information,
but by then, it was common knowledge Penelope was selling out.
Sean hesitated. “Well, no mob connections that I can find out. That’s the first thing I thought of when you said waste disposal. They’ve been in business for about ten years, very profitable, but they’re running out of dumping room. They specialize in medical waste, biohazards, stuff like that.”
“I hear it’s all automatic,” Ryan said. “They’re hiring maybe fifty people, and that would cover all three shifts.”
“They believe in technology, robotics. In Florida at their main facility, as technology improved, they gradually cut their workforce. They had about two hundred when they opened, but now they’re dealing with twice the volume and they’ve got half the employees. So I wouldn’t be surprised in a couple of years if that employee count was slashed.”
“So why here?” Brandon asked. “How’d Penelope find them so quick?”
Sean dropped down beside him. “My sources tell me they’ve been looking for land without zoning ordinances, but with water and access to a railroad. That’s been hard to find. They’ve been turned down in three counties in South Georgia so far. This land fits the bill.”
“But that begs the question, how’d they find this place?”
“Maybe Murphy’s been working with them, and the auction interrupted his deal,” Ryan speculated.
“So Penelope knew? All this time?” Brandon slung the entire handful of pebbles into the pond. “And she never told me?”
“Do you think she knew?” Sean asked.
Brandon thought back to the argument she and Murphy had before they left for Oregon. “We’ll discuss this when we get back,” Penelope had said.
He sprang up from the dock so fast his foot connected with Sean’s leg, eliciting a “Hey, watch it” from Sean. “Sorry, man. I think she did know. Something happened...” He choked out the events of that morning, ending with, “I thought she was worked up because she wanted him out of her house. But maybe she was afraid he’d say something to me about this sale. She had me played. I cannot believe I fell for her wide-eyed Miss Innocent look. I built her a barn!”
“So what are you going to do?” Ryan asked.
“What can I do? There’s no zoning ordinance in this county. I tried to tell people we needed land-use regulations, but no, no, they wouldn’t believe me. I guess they’ll believe me now when they’re downwind from a garbage dump.” Brandon paced the dock, his hold on his temper slipping with every Penelope moment he recalled.
“There’s that meeting you told us about,” Sean reminded him.
“Fat lot of good that will do me. The county can’t do squat without some sort of zoning, and any zoning they pass now would be after the fact.”
“Yeah, but Brandon, you’re forgetting something,” Ryan said. “They got run out of three counties already. Why was that?”
Brandon stopped. “Yeah. That’s right. Sean, how did the counties fight back?”
“They changed the owners’ minds. Protests, petitions, signs, mass public awareness meetings. You name it, they did it. The owners backed out, because they knew they wouldn’t be welcome there if they did sell.”
Could Penelope be so heartless that she would go through with this if she heard how it affected the community? He had seen her crying on that bed in her grandmother’s house, seen the softness in her expression after he’d kissed her. Her hand in his on the beach....
It can’t all have been an act.
He berated himself for the stubborn hope that wouldn’t be extinguished.
Ryan propped a foot on the railing. “Murphy’s been bragging all over town that this money will buy him enough legal horsepower to shake off the federal indictment.”
“Good luck to him then.” Sean grinned. “The way I hear it, the deputy U.S. attorney’s just about ready to present to the grand jury, and you know what that means. He thinks he’s got that airtight case he’s been looking for. So Murphy might as well take a match and burn that money up.”
“Yeah, but.” Brandon couldn’t take it anymore. He walked back up the dock, toward the grass and his truck, his footfalls echoing in the quiet of the early evening.
“Yeah, but what?” Ryan called after him.
“The land will still be gone. And this time...forever.”
* * *
WHEN PENELOPE HAD been four, Trent had talked her into going down the big, curvy slide. She’d thought she was ready—until she’d managed the climb up the fourteen steps to the top of the slide.
Trent had been behind her, huffing with the imperious impatience of a nine-year-old. “C’mon, Penny! Mom’s gonna tell us we gotta go! So move, will ya?”
When she’d whimpered and wanted to go back, Trent had stuck his tongue out at her and sneered. “Baby! You’re a widdle-bitty baby!”
So she’d done it. She’d turned around, settled on the top of the slide and let gravity take over. A fraction of a second after she’d let go, before the first hairpin turn, all her doubts supersized into gigantic screaming monsters. She wanted to stop. She wanted off.
Instead, she’d been sucked along on three more curves before she’d been able to set her shaky knees on solid ground.
All these years later, Penelope was beginning to get the same feeling she’d had on that slide.
The Dyno-Trash-Duo as she’d taken to calling them to herself, had scheduled the meeting as she requested. It had a downside she hadn’t calculated. Now everybody in the county knew the company’s intentions and blamed her.
She pulled into the crammed parking lot of the county board office. Conversations hushed as Penelope pushed through the crowd gathering on the lawn and spilling out of the commission office onto the old-fashioned front porch. From the rubbernecking, it was clear Penelope had been the central topic of discussion.
Inside the boardroom, Penelope nodded at Rudy, seated in the front row of stackable chairs, and at Todd, who was busy setting up a PowerPoint program. Grandpa Murphy was standing beside Rudy and waved her over.
“Whew,” Penelope told her grandfather. “Those guys out there sounded like they were after my blood.”
He laughed. “If they’d had a chance to switch places with you, darlin’, they would. In a heartbeat. Let ’em complain. It’ll give them something to do while you and I are on our way to the bank.”
A few minutes later, the chairman of the county commission took his seat. He brought the meeting to order with a stern warning about the consequences of disruption. “We’ll hear from folks in a civilized, courteous manner—from all sides—and then we’ll give you the county’s legal position.”
First up was Rudy, his pink scalp gleaming through his comb-over. With the help of Todd’s PowerPoint presentation, he made a pitch to the board about the solid-waste facility, how it would bring jobs and tax revenue to the county, how technologically advanced it was.
“We’re not asking for any county tax abatement. We’re not asking for the county to pony up any funds, just the quitclaim deed to the county road that bisects the land we intend to buy,” Rudy finished up.
“Hogwash,” somebody from the back piped up, and the room erupted into bedlam.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
THE CHAIRMAN RAPPED his gavel for order. “I have here a list of people who have actually taken the trouble to get on the agenda. Now, I’m not going to be here all night, and the board’s got some other matters to tend to, so y’all keep this short and remember to share the time.”
One by one, they came. Penelope recognized more than a few as people who’d helped build her barn. She felt her stomach turn over as she heard their disappointment and anger. A few of them even mentioned the barn raising, and how they’d been affronted by her willingness to betray their hospitality.
“Least she could have done,” one farmer said, “was tell me
about it herself. Instead, I find out about it through the grapevine.” He sat down, shaking his head.
When Penelope glanced behind her at the crowd standing, she saw Uncle Jake leaning against the doorjamb, near Brandon.
Would either of the two of them speak up against the land deal?
“Well, now,” the chairman said, “we’ve got one more person on the list. Brandon, what do you have to say about all this?”
The crowd’s muttering ceased. Brandon rose from his folding chair and strode up to the podium set before the commissioners. Instead of addressing them, he turned and faced the crowd.
“I heard all of what you said tonight.” He nodded in the direction of a couple of people who’d spoken already. “And I couldn’t agree more. I don’t have a lot to add. The land they’re buying is the best land in the county, at least I think so. Most of the farmers here would agree. It’s wrong to see it used for a facility that will only hurt the community.” His voice cracked with emotion at these last words. “It’s made even worse because we trusted Penelope. We trusted her and reached out to her—in spite of who her grandfather was.”
Beside her, Grandpa Murphy stiffened and started to rise. Penelope saw Rudy put a restraining hand on him. Grandpa didn’t look happy, but he made no further move to get up.
“We all know what this money is going for,” Brandon continued. “It’s not to help her have a better living here—no one could blame someone for that. No, this money will go to Richard Murphy’s attorneys. Now you decide. Is that something we should support?”
The grumbling and murmuring grew louder, and angry hisses came from all corners of the room.
Brandon waited, silent for a long moment, while the tension built. “If it’s not, then the only person who can control this, the one person who can make this all go away, is sitting right over there.” He pointed to Penelope. “It’s her land, at least, that’s what the title says. So you tell her if you have a problem with it. You tell her. As for me, she knows how I feel.” Brandon’s mouth twisted. “She knows, and she’s doing this anyway. She’s not one of us. This deal tells me she’ll never be.”
A Place to Call Home (Harlequin Heartwarming) Page 19
