Chapter 1 #2
“Hmmm,” Alice said as she filled a silver bucket with ice cubes.
The impending golf course had been debated since the day it was announced.
As the largest landowners in the county, the Tuckers had embarked on a controversial decision to convert over a hundred acres of wilderness into an 18-hole golf course, complete with a grandiose new clubhouse.
Daisy’s husband, Kyle, had been the biggest advocate for the fancy new golf course.
Alice and Daisy had been friends for years, but the golf course was a delicate topic they would never agree upon, and rarely discussed.
Alice had been opposed to the golf course from the moment she heard of it.
She joined with other professors and students at the college to protest it.
They’d picketed, gathered signatures, and appealed to the state to intervene.
None of it worked. The clubhouse was already built, but political wrangling to stop the golf course succeeded in delaying it for a few years. The Tuckers ultimately prevailed and they’d broken ground on the golf course shortly before Alice left for England.
The loss of all that pristine wilderness seemed unbearably sad as Alice slowly refilled the ice trays.
“What’s wrong?” Daisy asked. “You look as worn out as a biscuit dunked in gravy.”
Alice nodded. “It’s after midnight in London.”
“Oh my heavens, you poor dear,” Daisy gushed. “I didn’t think. You go put your feet up, and I’ll wind this party down.”
It took almost an hour, but Daisy finally managed to gracefully nudge people out of the house.
Daisy left soon after for a touch-up appointment to have her roots dyed but left her father-in-law behind to help Alice restore the townhouse to order.
Alice had a dishwasher but rarely used it because she’d never put antique Staffordshire porcelain into a dishwasher.
Kingsley rolled up his sleeves to wash and rinse, while Alice dried each piece as it came to her. With luck, they’d finish soon and she could finally collapse into bed.
“Did you hear about what’s going on down at the Roost?” Kingsley asked as he handed her another serving dish.
Alice stilled. Her last hope to save her career lay in solving the mysterious origins of the Roost. The derelict building was at least three hundred years old, and its location hidden in the woods left it vulnerable to antique hunters, drunken students, and vandalism.
“What’s going on at the Roost?” she asked in a calm voice, although her heart started pounding. The only good thing that came from her time in London was finding another piece of the puzzle about the Roost’s enigmatic history. The more she learned, the more fascinating the place became.
“Kyle is letting a fellow named Jack Latimer live in it. Jack is the golf course architect who’s been here ever since we broke ground.”
“Kyle is letting someone live in the Roost?” It was unthinkable, and she nearly dropped the Staffordshire bowl.
Kingsley held up his hands to placate her. “I know, I tried to stop him, but you know Kyle. I delegated management of the family trust to him, and I can’t step in to micromanage every decision he makes.”
The Roost was one of the last original buildings from the early settlers at Jamestown.
Every inch of its weathered oak timbers was laden with history, folklore, and secrets of the past. It was located close to the new golf course, shielded by a hundred yards of ancient sycamore and oak trees.
To let anyone live inside the Roost boggled her mind.
“The place isn’t even habitable,” Alice said. “Nobody has lived in the Roost since the 1930s. It doesn’t even have water or electricity.”
Kingsley shrugged. “Jack doesn’t mind, and Kyle will do anything to keep him happy.
A Jack Latimer golf course will add luster to the country club and attract golfers from all over the state.
He’ll only be living there for a few months, and he’s jerry-rigged a generator to get a little electricity.
There are some tractors and a run-down trailer parked at the place, too.
He put a Baltimore Ravens flag out front. ”
Alice put a hand to her forehead, refusing to panic yet as she began pacing in the compact kitchen.
The Roost was on land that had belonged to the Tucker family since the eighteenth century, when they owned over five thousand acres of tidewater property.
The Tuckers were Virginia royalty, their name as prestigious as the Lees, the Jeffersons, and the Washingtons.
They could trace their heritage back to the earliest days of American settlement, and the Roost had been their first homestead.
They had sold off some of their land over the twentieth century, but they still retained ownership of the land on which the new golf course, the country club, and the Roost were situated.
“Did Kyle formally lease the Roost to this man?” she asked Kingsley. “Was there actually a signed contract?”
“A handshake deal,” Kingsley said. “The word of a Tucker is stronger than any flimsy piece of paper.”
She’d trust a handshake deal from Kingsley, but not his son.
Kyle owned an antique store in town and had a reputation for misleading customers about the value of his offerings.
He’d also pocketed a fortune by selling off parcels of family land.
When Kyle took over management of the family business, Tucker’s Grove was three thousand acres of mostly undeveloped land in the southern portion of the county.
The pristine wilderness was a priceless treasure reminiscent of what the earliest English settlers would have seen when they landed on these shores in 1607.
Alice and the other concerned citizens opposing development lost the battle about the clubhouse and the golf course, but the Roost could still be saved.
“Would you mind if I went to have a look at the Roost?” Alice asked Kingsley. “It would be a shame if the person lodging there did something to damage its historic nature.”
Kingsley’s eyes warmed. “I would be grateful,” he said. “I’m incredibly proud of what Daisy and Kyle have accomplished, but they don’t share the same veneration for history as you and I. By all means, you have my permission to do whatever you think best to preserve the Roost.”