14. Sydney
I narrowly divert my step to avoid crushing a package as I pull the door of cabin twelve shut behind me. In the middle of the rug is something rectangular wrapped in honeycomb packing paper with a red-and-black checkered ribbon tied delicately around it.
Picking it up with one hand, I check my watch on the other. My daily progress meeting with Neal is in a few minutes, but I do have a little time to spare.
Sinking onto the edge of the porch swing, I pull at the ribbon to open it. Inside the package is a floral ballpoint pen and a leatherbound book of some sort.
I fan the pages with my thumb to discover that it’s a journal. Tucked between the cover and the first page is a note written on a lavender notecard.
Syd,
Just in case this might help.
Blair
I smile, noting that this is absolutely something Blair would do. I’m not sure I know how to use a journal, or if it would be of any benefit to me, but in some small way, it feels comforting knowing I have one now.
I set it inside on the kitchen table where it’s safe and scurry off to meet with Neal, making a mental note to thank Blair when I see her later today.
A short while later, after the meeting with Neal, I find myself sipping coffee at the lodge window with a scowl on my face.
I should not be scowling.
I know this.
What’s unfolding in front of me is enough to make any logical woman swoon and go weak at the knees. There’s a man out on the beach—one who would be considered devastatingly handsome by any standards—knelt down, surrounded by a swarm of children. He’s teaching them how to safely start a campfire in the fire pit, and it’s admittedly the most adorable thing I’ve seen in a while.
Except, that man’s name is Cole Fredrickson. And I know more about the truth of his character than I’d like to. I know that underneath that rugged exterior is not someone who’s approachable and adorable with kids, as he’s clearly trying to fool people into thinking he is. Nope, I know firsthand how dismissive he’s capable of being. Careless and cold. Feigning sympathy to lure you in and then—bam—throwing you out like trash in the wind.
“Cute, huh?” Shirley says, breaking me out of my glowering.
“That’s one word for it,” I grumble. Without so much as a sideways glance, I can feel her studying me. I’m not sure what Graham has told her, if anything, about the tension between Cole and me, but I know that she’s always been a quiet observer around here. I’m guessing she knows more about what goes on around this island than people give her credit for.
“I knew his uncle, you know,” she says quietly, folding her arms around herself.
“Oh yeah?” I feign disinterest, but the truth is, I am actually a little curious about his uncle. Other than a casual mention of him years ago, Cole never said too much about him.
She slowly nods her head as we watch Blair return from the woods with an armful of sticks, handing them off to Cole.
“We were friends in high school.” Shirley says it with a hint of subdued nostalgia in her tone. There’s also a twinge of somberness to it. Like she knows something I don’t.
Cole bops one of the kids playfully on the nose, and I swear I can’t hold back the way my lip turns up in disgust. Shirley sighs, her gaze burning into me. She places a hand on my arm as she turns.
“Go easy on him,” she whispers before walking away.
I barely have time to register her words or why she would be saying them to me before Graham emerges from behind the bar.
“You ready?” he asks me.
“Yup.” I push my hands into my pockets, mentally making a note to process Shirley’s words later.
I grab my crossbody purse from the back of a chair, slip it on, then follow him out of the lodge.
“We’ll be back in a few hours,” I hear Graham say to Blair, to whom I offer a smile, having already thanked her for the journal earlier today.
As for Cole, I manage to walk right past him without so much as a fleeting glance his way.
One hour later and I’m fighting to keep my eyelids open with my head slumped against Graham’s shoulder. I’m not sure if it’s the sound of Terry, the head counsel’s, voice or if this is the comfiest folding chair I’ve ever sat in, but either way, I’m drowning here.
It’s a good thing this town hall meeting should be short and sweet—at least our portion of it, anyway. All we need is for Terry to read the proposal out loud, take a show of hands for a vote, and we should be on our way.
It’s been years since I’ve been to one of these town hall meetings, but it’s comforting to find that they haven’t changed much.
Our case should be up any minute now. We’ve already discussed the new lowered speed limit through town that will go into effect next week, and we voted on the flavor-of-the-month ice cream for Mrs. Bishop’s ice cream shop.
“The next order of business is the ruling for a potential buyout of a small portion of the community land on Takini Island to Ruby Lodge,” Terry says. I perk up in my seat, tapping my manila folder with spreadsheets and statistics to present if needed.
“Per the proposal, Ruby Lodge would like to acquire three acres of the community land to install a recreation area for the lodge.” He pauses, pushing his bifocals up on his nose with a finger. “Island residents must be present to vote—and it needs to be unanimous. All those in favor, say aye.”
“Aye!” I say with a grin, shoving a hand into the air. Graham and three other residents who are scattered about the room also offer ayes of their own. I offer a smile to as many of them as I can as a show of thanks.
“Wonderful. I’m not anticipating any opposition, but out of technicality, all those who oppose the purchasing of the land, say aye.”
I smile, feeling giddy at being able to wrap up and move forward with this part of the renovation, and tuck the folder back under my chair.
“Aye,” a grumpy voice comes out of nowhere on my left. My head snaps that direction as shock runs through me.
“What?” I sneer just above a whisper.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Graham grumbles in my ear. “Gilbert.”
“No,” I breathe, catching sight of Mr. Gilbert, the owner of the boarded-up cabin on Takini—the one who hasn’t been heard from or seen in the better part of a year.
“Mr. Gilbert?” Terry places an inquisitive hand on his hip. “How long have you been back in town?”
“Since I got wind of this meeting,” he murmurs, both indignation and boredom in his tone.
“Alright. Do tell us…why are you opposing this motion?” Terry asks.
“It’s community land. Rightfully part of my land. It’s been exactly the way it is for decades. There’s no need to change it now.”
“That’s your reasoning?” Graham cuts in, his voice rising.
“Why should the community have to suffer just because you want to run some hoity-toity resort?” he barks back.
“When’s the last time you used that part of the island?” I ask, cutting into him with my glare. “Haven’t really been around much, have you? Your place is boarded up, for Pete’s sake.”
His face grows red.
“Yeah, well, look who’s talking,” he spits. “Everyone knows you’re hardly ever here. Not even to see your mo—”
“Hey, that’s not fair,” Graham says in a rush of anger as he rises to his feet. My cheeks burn with anger of my own, and a lump forms in my throat as another person calls out from the very back of the room.
“Pipe down, Gilbert.” The sharp voice cuts through the room like a knife. I swing my head in its direction, but I already know who it belongs to.
Cole sits in the very last chair in the far corner of the room, a menacing glare fixed directly on Mr. Gilbert.
What’s he doing here? Did he boat or fly over?
“Alright, alright.” Terry lifts his hands to gain control of the room. Voices are hushed, and Graham reluctantly sinks back down into his chair.
“Everyone calm down,” Terry says pointedly before fixing his gaze on Mr. Gilbert. “While you’re legally entitled to a vote, do you really think I haven’t noticed that you’ve been behind on property taxes for the last two years?”
“I—” Mr. Gilbert barely gets a word out as he fumbles for an answer.
“Do you have a legitimate reason for that?”
Again, he stutters.
“Uh-huh.” Terry dismisses him with a wave of his hand, and hope dares to bloom in my chest. “Well, for that reason, I’m counting your vote as invalid.”
Mr. Gilbert’s huff is audible, along with his grumbling, but I bite the corner of my lip to hide a satisfied smile. Then Terry points to the back of the room.
“Mr. Fredrickson, you did not offer your vote on the matter. As you are the rightful owner of a cabin on Takini, you do have a say in this. How are you voting—for or against the sale of the land?”
Just like that, the hope vanishes.
No.
He’s going to ruin this just to spite me, isn’t he?
I keep my stare fixed on the floor in front of me as I hold my breath, waiting for it all to crash down again. After a few very long seconds of silence, Cole finally offers a small but firm, “Let them have it.”
Relief rushes through me, followed by a wave of confusion as to why he would go along with this. I’ve heard nothing but negativity from him about the renovation efforts since I arrived.
I rotate my head ever so slightly to the side, and when his gaze connects with mine, I clamp my mouth shut, whipping my head forward, not quite sure what to do or say. This whole situation is catching me off guard here.
“Excellent,” Terry says, pounding his gavel with a loud thud. “Consider the proposal passed.”
He moves on to the next order of business, but I haven’t a clue what it is about. I spend the rest of the meeting ruminating on what I should say to Cole on our way out. How I can thank him without tripping on the foreign words as they come out of my mouth.
But when the meeting ends and we finally get up to leave, he’s already gone.