My phone buzzed next to the laptop. It was Carter.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Have you seen the article in the News & Report?”
I closed my email. “No. Which one?”
“It came out about fifteen minutes ago. It’s an in-depth feature on one of the residents in Sailor’s Cove. A mother and little girl who will be displaced when the demolition begins.”
I typed in the website. “Who wrote it?” I barked.
“Same reporter who released your exclusive. Veronica Strickland.”
Fuck. I breathed into the phone, gripping it tightly. “I’ll find it.”
It appeared on the front page. I scanned the headline. The picture was of a young woman looking on while her daughter played in an inflatable pool. The dunes were behind them.
I knew what it would say before I started reading it. Quinn Johnson, a young mother barely making ends meet working at the Pancake Palace, was scrambling to find a place she could afford for her five year old daughter, Harper. I shook my head. This was going to hurt. Not only did the article make it sound like they were going to be homeless, but also that the millionaire mogul who had bought the land hadn’t made any conditions for the residents to move.
I ran my hands through my hair. Damn it. This wasn’t the first time people had to move because of rental property I purchased.
I grabbed my keys from the counter and jogged down the stairs. I wanted to ride with the top down. I started at the end of the island closest to the Dunes, searching the side streets. I turned around in every cul-de-sacs and drove to the next grid of roads. After an hour, I started to think my plan wasn’t going to work, but then I saw a gravel road half-covered in vines and brown grass. I slowed the car and turned onto the path. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t perfect. It would work.
I dialed the Dallas office.
“Carter, I need our broker to purchase a piece of land today,” I instructed quickly.
“Today, sir?” I hated how he always repeated what I said.
“Yes, today. Can the team handle it?”
“Of course. What’s the listing number?”
I groaned. “It doesn’t have a listing number. I’ll shoot you the address. Make an offer, get it done today. Also, start the permit application to have the land zoned for water and electricity. It needs to be completed in two weeks. No more.”
I stepped out of the car. I surveyed the area.It was basically a wasteland. I estimated how many trailers I thought could fit. “And make that for ten trailer hookups. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.” He hesitated.
“What is it, Carter?”
“Why are we buying this land, sir? Did I miss a report or an email?”
“It’s for the residents of Sailor’s Cove. We can’t get everyone moved, but ten should be enough. Take care of it, and let me know when it’s finished.”
“Will do. I’ll have Tia start immediately.”
“Thanks, Carter. I know I’ve put a lot on everyone in the office this past week. I appreciate it.”
“No problem.”
I surveyed the field. I hoped like hell this would work.
Five minutes later I pulled into the Pancake Palace parking lot. It was a local favorite on the island. The kind of place that served breakfast twenty-four-seven. I slid into a booth near the back of the diner.
“What can I get you?” A waitress, who looked as if she were still in high school dropped a glass of water on the table, spilling it on the floor. “I’m sorry.” She stooped to the floor. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
Another girl rushed over to help her. “We’ll clean it right up.”
“Not a problem. Everything I’m wearing can dry.”
The second waitress looked up. “I know who you are.”
“Funny. I was about to say the same thing to you. Quinn Johnson, right?”
She nodded. “Carrie, I’ll take care of this customer.” She directed the young girl back to the register, carrying wet towels. “I didn’t expect you to be in here.”
“I’d like eggs, bacon, and two pancakes.” I handed her a menu.
“You’re in here for pancakes?”
“It’s the Pancake Palace.”
“Of course. I’ll get that order in for you.”
Ten minutes later Quinn returned with a plate of hot food. I smiled. “Thank you.”
“Can I get anything else for you?” she asked.
“Well, I was getting ready to ask you that.” I peeled the paper wrapper from the silverware.
She looked around. “Are you here to say something about the article? The reporter asked the questions. I just answered them.”
“I understand. I’m not upset.”
“You’re not?” She looked surprised.
“Why would I be upset?”
She sat across from me after I motioned toward the empty booth. “Do you know I have less than a month to find a place to live? There aren’t any open campgrounds on the island. Besides that, how am I going to haul that trailer?” Her voice started to rise.
“I think I have a solution for you.”
“And what is that?” she asked.
“What if I told you there is campground where you and Harper can move?”
She shook her head. “There’s nothing on the island. Sailor’s Cove was the last one that allowed for full-time residents.”
I grinned. “Until the new one opens.”
“But how? Where?”
“You know on the sound side near the bridge, there’s that vacant lot?”
“The one with rusted cars and boats?”
I nodded. “That’s the one.”
“I’m sorry, I might be desperate, but I’m not that desperate. I don’t need to live in a scrapyard, Mr. Thomas.”
My hand reached across the table, pressing against her wrist. “I wouldn’t suggest that. I know you’re trying to find a place for your daughter to live.” I pulled back.
“Then how is a junkyard going to be a suitable place for us?”
“What do you say you meet me there after work and I’ll show you? What time is your shift over?” I asked.
She still looked skeptical. “The shift change is at three. But I have to get my daughter.”
“Bring her with you. I’ll see you there.”
She stood next to the table. “All right. We’ll be there.”
I finished my pancake breakfast, left change on the table, and headed to my car. It was a more expensive solution than I wanted, but in the long run it would be worth it. I didn’t need any more stories bashing me for kicking out a single mother.
I scowled thinking about the reporter who had taken a swing at my character and motives. It didn’t matter. I had a way to fix it.
I peeled out of the parking lot.
* * *
A few minutes after three, Quinn pulled up behind me. You could hear the bridge traffic as cars passed over the sound. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t terrible. Any kid could sleep through that.
“You made it.” I walked toward her, while she unbuckled the little girl from a booster seat.
“Yes. Now what is it you’re proposing?” She eyed the weeds growing around tires and through the windshield of a rusted out Mustang.
“I should be able to have water and electric hookups run out here in two weeks. We’ll have all of this cleared.” I waved my hands toward the abandoned vehicles.
“You own this?”
“As of this morning, yes.” I shoved my hands in my pockets and surveyed the small lot.
Quinn took Harper’s hand, and they walked through a path in the weeds.
“I’ll even throw in a swing set and slide. What do you think?”
She was considering it. That was all I needed. She didn’t have to have the vision I had for the place. People rarely could see what potential there was in land or a dilapidated building, but I could. I only had to paint the picture for her. As long as she believed the picture,
it would work.
“And picnic tables and grills?” She turned toward me.
“Yes, over there near the trees. Much better than what you have at the Cove. Brand new amenities for everything.”
Harper squealed. “Mama, look! Cats!”
A stray cat jumped on the hood of one of the cars.
I smirked. “I’ll make sure you have no problems with ferocious attack cats either.”
I heard Quinn repress a giggle.
“But Harper can’t see the ocean from here. She loves the ocean.” She turned toward the road. The beach was on the other side of it as well as a row of houses and hotels.
“There’s swimming access to the sound. And you know you can access the beach anytime you want to take her. There are places all over the island for that.” She didn’t look convinced. “Okay, I’ll add a pier with a swimming platform with a boardwalk, okay?” I tried not to sound irritated. I was slowly adding costs to this low-budget project.
She folded her arms, allowing Harper to move freely in front of us. “A swimming platform sounds decent, but how am I going to get moved from Sailor’s Cove?”
“Leave that to me. I’ll set up the new campground and get you moved. All expenses paid. I’ll handle everything.”
The cat was joined by a friend. I wondered how many other animals lived in the hollowed out engines and trunks.
“And my neighbors? Johnny and Carla? There are a few others who are year-round residents like me.”
She pushed her sunglasses on top of her head. I knew Quinn was a young woman, but there were lines around her eyes, and the smudged mascara running around her lids made her look tired and older than she was.
“I have enough room for ten spots. I can’t get permits for more than that. You are on the top of the list.”
“Only ten? But what if more people want to move?” She was trying to hold Harper back from chasing one of the cats. She glared at her daughter to stand still.
“Quinn, I have a team of people who can help them find new lots for their campers. I can help ten of you right here. What do you say? Are you interested?”
I knew the lot was small, and I wasn’t going to be able to move everyone, but they weren’t all in Quinn’s situation. She needed a place she could afford so that Harper could continue to live on the island and go to school. Most of the other residents stayed for four or five months out of the year. The snowbirds only resided at the Cove during the winter. Those weren’t the people causing my PR nightmare. This woman and the cute little girl were.
“All right. We’ll move.” She bent down so she was squatting next to Harper. The girl was about to snatch the tail of a striped kitty. “What do you think, Harper? Would you like to move here?”
She nodded. “Can we have the kitties?”
I laughed. “That’s up to your mother.” I began to walk back to my car.
Quinn stood. “Thank you, Mr. Thomas.”
“I’m glad it’s going to work out.” I drove toward the Dunes, leaving the mother to survey her new home.
Fourteen
Veronica
“Well done on the feature piece,” Janet smiled as she passed by my cubicle. She was on her way back from the break room. A cup of coffee in her hand.
“Thank you. I’ve had a lot of feedback from my Twitter followers.”
“I’m starting to think you’re more of a feature writer. First the Thomas piece and now this look at the mother and her daughter. You have a flare that’s starting to show.”
I was glad she could finally see the real strengths in my writing, but it still wasn’t the right time to admit I wasn’t a business expert. We both knew it.
“Keep it up, Strickland.”
“Janet?”
She turned. “Yeah, what is it?”
“I have the notes from Commissioner Costas’s press conference. But since you mentioned the feature angles, I was wondering what you thought about me focusing on her.”
Janet set the coffee on the edge of my desk. This was the longest amount of time she had spent at my desk. The first time I met the editor was over a Skype interview. My immediate reaction was she looked tired. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her short blond hair was patched with streaks of gray.
“Are you talking a political story for the election?”
I shook my head. “No, something about why she’s an environmentalist. How is she so connected to these groups? Where does she find them?”
“Hmm. Doesn’t sound very interesting to me.”
“But she’s the only one on the board who is anti-development.”
“Strickland, if you find something new and interesting then let me know. In the meantime, I need the name of the contractor starting work on the resort. We are a business journal. A contract like that is going to impact this area.”
My stomach rolled. I knew Aiden had narrowed the search to two companies. He had met with both of them in San Antonio. He had purposely kept me from the information. My eyes narrowed. He kept me distracted from a lot of things.
She strolled into her office, closing the door behind her. I could see Janet from where I sat. There was a glass window separating the editor from the pods of cubicles in the center of the room.
I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder. I wasn’t going to find out the names of the contractors by sitting here. I headed out of the office.
My steering wheel was hot. The seats were hot. Everything in Texas was hot. I waited for the air conditioning to switch from blasts of heated air to something resembling cool before I headed to City Hall. My hope was that whichever contractor had been awarded the bid had already submitted their information to my new friend in the development office.
I clicked the seatbelt when I heard my phone ring.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Hey, it’s Kaitlyn Sinclaire. How are you?”
“Kaitlyn? Oh, hey.”
“Sorry I haven’t been in touch since last week.”
I tried to figure out where this was going. She was a direct connection to Aiden. “It’s fine.” I still had her number folded on the napkin in my purse.
“I told you I’d let you know when we could get together. There’s a bonfire tonight on the beach. I think you should come. You can meet some of our friends.”
I thought back to the night at Hank’s. The night that led to me sleeping with Aiden. There was a knot in my stomach.
“Is Aiden going to be there?” I had to ask.
“I haven’t seen Aiden today. I really want you to come. You can meet my friend Sasha, and her girlfriends are in town. It’s going to be fun. You said you needed to meet people on the island, not just tourists. There is nothing better than a Padre bonfire.”
I chewed on the end of my sunglasses. The tips were chipped and jagged from the abuse I gave them. “I want to go, really, but I think it would be awkward if I ran into Aiden. We’re not seeing each other. I think I should be honest about that.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.” She huffed. “I haven’t invited him. Bonfires aren’t really his scene. He works all the time. I’ll text you the time, and I can meet you on the boardwalk at the Dunes.”
“All right. If you’re sure he’s not going to be there. I think it sounds fun.” It had to be safe. It didn’t sound like Aiden’s kind of event.
“Awesome.” I could hear the smile in Kaitlyn’s voice. “See you tonight. You can tell me what happened between you and Aiden.”
“It’s not really a great story.”
“He won’t say anything,” she added. “Believe me. I’ve asked.”
I didn’t know what that meant. I wanted to analyze it, but I didn’t have time to try to decipher his mind games.
I finally felt cool air breeze over my face. I tucked the phone back in my bag. Maybe things were starting to turn around. My boss had noticed my work. I had my first social invitation since moving to South Padre, and I was about to shake down a source. I smiled, pull
ing out of the parking lot. If only I could forget Mister Blue Eyes, it would be perfect.
* * *
“Hey, Doug.” The intern was bobbing in his chair.
He looked up from the computer. I thought I saw him quickly exit out of a game of solitaire.
“What’s up, reporter girl?”
“Not much. Thought I’d stop by and see if you have anything new for me.” I glanced over his desk. It was just as messy as last week.
He shrugged. “Nothing really. Hey, did you hear about the concert at Bongos? I’m going with a bunch of my buddies. You should check it out.”
“Oh wow.” I pulled the strap on my bag. “Maybe I’ll do that. When is it?”
“Tonight.”
I made my best disappointed face. “Aww, I have plans tonight. I’ll have to check them out another time.”
It didn’t seem to faze him. “Yeah, do it for sure.”
I slid one of the manila envelopes to the side. “Have you had any contractor applications come through for the Thomas resort?”
Doug swiveled in his chair, lifting his feet off the ground. I was starting to think he was in middle school instead of college. “Got a stack of applications back here.” He handed a pile to me. “I haven’t opened them yet.”
“Clearly.” I smiled. I wondered how many days this stack of mail had been sitting unopened. “Maybe I can help you with it.” I held the letter opener in my hand and began to slice through the tops of the envelopes.
There were applications for fences and new driveway pads. Homeowners building extensions to their houses or adding a garage. I flipped through each one, making a new pile for Doug. Somewhere near the bottom I found it.
“Hattman and Jones,” I whispered.
“You’re pretty awesome. You just saved me a ton of work.” Doug threw the discarded envelopes in the trash.
I smiled. “Glad I could help.” I read through the application. It was a standard general contractor assignment. I couldn’t believe I was the first one to land the information. I scribbled the details on my reporter’s pad and handed the form to Doug.
“Hope you have a great time at the concert tonight.”
Don’t Go Page 13
