Chapter 6 #3
Historians thought an old horseshoe or a bullet from the Civil War were worth grinding a million-dollar construction project to a halt. They lived in ivory towers where they didn’t have to make payroll or float loans or build things that actually paid for themselves.
“If you discover something really important, I’ll help you find a qualified contractor to relocate the Roost to a new location. On your dime.”
She probably wasn’t used to paying for anything. College professors lived in ivory towers where the university or the government wrote fat checks so she could sit around reading Jane Austen or whatever it was someone with a PhD did all day.
“It’s a deal,” she said and reached out to shake his hand.
An electric zing raced up his arm from where she touched him. Alice turned and walked toward the house, the fall of her skirt gently swaying with each step, and to the bottom of his soul he wished she wasn’t the most intriguing thing he’d ever seen.
How was she going to reverse the eviction so Jack could get back into the Roost by Monday?
Nervous energy coiled in her gut as Alice headed toward the Cherrywood mansion, avoiding everyone’s gaze.
She had to find Arlo Whitworth. He was her best bet among members of the Historic Preservation Board to ask for advice.
As for how to explain her about-face? The truth would work.
Maybe she’d exaggerated the dangers of living in the Roost, but she hadn’t exaggerated its historic importance.
It was among the oldest surviving buildings in Virginia, and if her theory proved correct, it was far older than anyone realized.
The Roost had a story to tell, and she needed to save it from being torn down on Monday.
Arlo stood with Daisy and a cluster of others inside the gazebo overlooking the terraced backyard. Towering oaks that had stood for decades shaded the lawn, and she trudged up the steps, wondering how to extricate Arlo from the women because this conversation should be handled privately.
Unfortunately, Daisy spotted her and sent an eager wave. “Alice! Just the person we’ve been looking for. Come and tell us about Sebastian Bell.”
Alice forced the pleasant expression to remain in place.
Her association with Sebastian and the Jane Austen movie was bound to come up again and again, and she couldn’t avoid it forever.
Sebastian was now in a pricey drug rehabilitation program, but his agent, an oily man named Graham Garfield, was still sending her threatening letters.
Graham repeatedly warned that if she breathed a word about Sebastian that deviated from her confidentiality agreement, he would destroy her.
“I’m not authorized to talk about anything related to the Emma production,” she began, which was true enough. Cast and crew on all major movie productions were required to keep mum about details of the filming.
“Not that,” Daisy said. “Arlo was just telling us about the new Charles II miniseries. The one airing on Netflix? Have you been watching it?”
Sebastian had filmed The King’s Redemption the year before she met him, and it was another of his historical smash hits.
He played the dashing young King Charles II of England.
The miniseries focused on the years of Charles’s exile after his father lost his head on the chopping block during the Puritan Revolution.
The young king lived on the run for two years, moving from one safe house to another, trying to rally enough support among the royalists that would allow him to retake the throne from Oliver Cromwell.
He eventually fled to France, where he remained in exile for almost a decade.
It was the perfect role for Sebastian. With his smoldering good looks, he could play the warrior king with a perfect dash of wounded vulnerability.
Sebastian privately told her that he hoped the role would bring him the longed-for respectability instead of his current heartthrob status.
Alice had foolishly daydreamed of someday curling up with Sebastian before the fireplace, watching the miniseries together.
Now she would rather rinse her eyes with bleach than watch The King’s Redemption.
“No, I’m afraid I haven’t been watching,” she said.
“You need to,” Arlo replied. His bow tie today featured tiny embroidered roses in honor of the Kentucky Derby, but his expression was serious.
“We’re only three episodes in, but what strikes me is the similarity between the English Civil War and the American Civil War.
The causes were completely different, but the parallels between Abraham Lincoln and Charles II are remarkable. ”
“Ha!” Daisy said. “Charles II was a rampant womanizer and Abe Lincoln was practically a monk.”
“No, no, hear me out,” Arlo said. “Both men wanted to extend forgiveness to their enemies. Charles II lived through years of sheer horror while he was on the run, yet after he regained the throne, he knew the only way to stabilize the country was by granting amnesty to the people who waged war against him. Abraham Lincoln wanted the same, but never got the chance to see it through. After he was assassinated, the North wanted to punish the South, and the country sank into years of revenge rather than reconciliation.”
Daisy waved her fan. “Must we speak of the North?”
“Arlo, may I talk with you?” Alice sent an apologetic look to Daisy and the others. “It’s just a little business. Nothing as exciting as resurrecting the war between the North and South, but quite important.”
Arlo offered his arm as any gentleman would do as he escorted her down the gazebo steps.
Sun pounded down and everything seemed glaringly hot and oppressive as she tackled the thorny subject of the Roost. Her gaze roamed the sprawling expanse of the Tucker estate and she wished people could simply get along with each other.
Why couldn’t Jack try to understand the people of Williamsburg?
Respect for history was woven into their DNA.
“Jack Latimer is fighting his eviction from the Roost,” she said. “He says if we don’t let him back in by Monday, he’ll tear it down. He claims to have the authority to do so.”
Arlo’s eyes widened in understanding. “If the Tuckers give him permission, he’s right.”
“What can we do? I think it’s just a threat to make us reverse the eviction notice, but I don’t know how to stop it.”
Dismay morphed across Arlo’s face as he understood her quandary.
The two of them retreated to the far end of the garden to discuss their options.
The county’s primary concern was lack of power and water to a residential structure, but there were ways around that.
A person could live in a pup tent provided it was on their own land and no rent was being paid in a landlord-tenant relationship.
Since Jack wasn’t paying rent to the Tuckers, the county could classify his occupancy as a non-commercial private arrangement rather than a formal tenancy.
It would let the county reverse their decision without setting a troublesome precedent.
“I know the county commissioner, and he’ll push this through,” Arlo assured her. “It ought to be enough to get Jack off your back long enough to do your research.”
Alice nodded, clinging to the hope that the plan would succeed. If it failed, her chances of uncovering the wonderful old secrets still hidden at the Roost would vanish forever.