Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Brakkor
I did my best not to fidget in my seat, if only because I didn’t want the guys to notice something was wrong. There was a reason I’d chosen to show up here with the males from the mine, rather than my brother—who’d take one look at me and know.
Dravik had settled into his new job doing small engine repair for Cairo’s body shop, and the taciturn male seemed pleased with the new arrangement, or as pleased as the stone-faced male could be.
Varron had passed the state certification to become an EMT on the island, which was as close to his old role as medic as possible.
And Harkaan was well on his way to opening that microbrewery he’d always talked about.
I was pleased for them all, and the life they were building for themselves. I’d known them for years, and they’d known—and accepted—me. As an added bonus, none of them were Mated, so I didn’t have to deal with their knowing looks and elbow jabs.
I just leaned forward, planted my elbows on my knees, and ignored the council meeting being called to order. This was my new home, and we were all here to be a part of the way Eastshore was run…but there was really only one reason I cared.
Jocelyn.
And her big presentation, the reason she’d been here on the island for the last two weeks. The reason I’d fallen in love with her.
The first half of the meeting moved quickly, or maybe I was just distracted and didn’t give a shit. I’ll confess I found myself staring down at my clasped hands for most of it, while around me the guys murmured in response to various proposals or updates.
And then…
“The council is prepared to hear a proposal from Jocelyn Dupont and Augustus Frapp in regards to the Eastshore Lighthouse. Ms. Dupont?”
My head had snapped up, and now I watched, almost hungrily, as Jocelyn settled herself behind the podium, took a deep breath, and nodded to someone in the back of the room who was controlling the AV screen.
“Eastshore Lighthouse was built in 1838 on one of the northernmost promontory spits of the island, and has dutifully served this community for generations. Now, with the advent of satellite positions and radar beacons, the light itself is less vital along the maritime trade routes, but it is still a part of our—of the Eastshore community.”
Had anyone else noticed the way she stumbled over that ownership? Or how she kept her gaze firmly away from the area of the audience where I sat? I straightened, inhaling, wondering if I could really smell her nervousness from this far away, or if I was just imagining things.
“Unfortunately, the north cliffs of the island are no longer as stable as they once were,” she was saying, flipping through the photos of erosion she’d shown me.
“This problem is only going to get worse, and I estimate the lighthouse has perhaps another decade before the foundation becomes structurally damaged.”
She clicked to a photo showing the heavy earth movers and cement mixers parked around the light, and I realized she’d taken it that very first day. If I squinted, I could even see myself sitting in the cab of the excavator.
“Mr. Frapp’s solution was to shore up the foundation, which would likely buy an extra twenty years or so—depending on climate change and further erosion—but would cause irrevocable damage in other ways.”
Now her presentation turned to the archeology of the lighthouses themselves, showing finds from her digs in Cape Cod and other areas on the East Coast. Jocelyn explained how a new foundation would cover these sites, making them difficult, if not impossible, to study in the future.
“Eastshore Lighthouse might not be a seminal archeological site, but it has been a beacon—literally—of the community for two hundred years. Generations of lighthouse keeper families—many of them related to Mr. Frapp—have left their marks on the ground around the building, and Mr. Frapp agrees that it would be a shame to cover that history.”
Jocelyn took a deep breath and switched to a photo of a lighthouse in the process of being moved; complete with a heavy crane, a large truck, and about three miles of large ratchet straps.
“The solution is to move the building.” As the audience began to murmur—some in excitement, some in disapproval—Jocelyn hurried to explain.
“Mr. Frapp has agreed to fund the project in order to save the light and his family’s history.
However, we need a place to put the building, and while he’s willing to donate the land again, he suggested the town itself would benefit from having the lighthouse closer. An attraction, if you will.”
She flipped through some photos and graphics, which described the process of moving a two-hundred-year-old building, and around me I heard murmurs of interest. I realized I was grinning as I glanced around, proud of the way my neighbors were recognizing my Mate’s skill and intelligence.
Jocelyn might not want to be my Mate, but I could still be proud of her, even if my heart broke and my Kteer wept at the thought of not being able to show that pride.
A few of the audience members called out questions during her explanation, and although it wasn’t technically allowed, she smoothly incorporated the answers into her presentation, moving on to show success stories where communities turned moved lighthouses into various income-producers.
“After discussing various options with Mr. Frapp, and Ms. Patti LaRue”—Jocelyn nodded to a woman sitting in the audience—“as well as Eastshore’s Community Development Coordinator, I believe the most logical place to move the Eastshore Lighthouse is here.
” She switched to a photo of an abandoned lot, overgrown with weeds, surrounded by a fence.
“This is the lot beside Patti’s tea shop and museum, which records show belong to Ashlyn Anderson. ”
Jocelyn nodded toward the left of the room, and I twisted in my seat to see a pretty young blonde woman sitting beside an orc I recognized from the internet.
She gave a little wave to Jocelyn, then slid her hand through her Mate’s, and I supposed this was the female I’d heard about who owns most of the town’s historic district.
“Ms. Anderson is willing to sell the land to the town for below asking, as long as it’s used to house the lighthouse.
It’s large enough to include the tower, the lighthouse-keeper’s home—which Mr. Frapp envisions using as a museum—and a lightly landscaped garden around it.
A modest entry fee could, we calculate, return the cost of the land to the town within three years. ”
Now the murmurings had begun in earnest, townspeople discussing their thoughts as Jocelyn continued to flip through graphics and photos, including one image of the imagined final product, complete with a smiling family standing among azaleas, tilting their heads back to look up at the light as it stood in the center of Eastshore.
“Ms. Anderson has indicated that, if the town isn’t interested in maintaining the lighthouse, she would consider maintaining the property herself, but she has no interest in managing a public property.
” Jocelyn pinned the town council with a serious expression.
“Therefore, if the relocated lighthouse is to have any sort of benefit to the community, or to gain money from tourists as an attraction, it needs to be owned by Eastshore itself. As Mr. Frapp is willing to pay for the relocation, and to donate the building to the town itself, this seems like the best solution for our community.”
Our community.
My lips twitched ruefully, recognizing her slip. Jocelyn might be planning on returning to the mainland tonight—leaving me—but she was absolutely leaving a piece of her heart here in Eastshore.
Would it be enough?
Sakkara prompted the council for questions, and there were a few.
One man asked about the cost for upkeep and repairs, and Jocelyn pulled up a spreadsheet used by a lighthouse owned by the National Park Service, and another one that was run for-profit.
Then she compared them to a projected list for the Eastshore Lighthouse, and showed how, within five years, the lighthouse would be earning enough from entry fees to have paid off the land cost, and begin to save for repairs.
A woman asked about the artifacts from the lighthouse-keeper’s home, and Jocelyn made it clear that any found on Frapp’s property would belong to him, but that he was willing to consider donating any that weren’t of particular family value to the town.
That sparked a conversation about what kind of items the museum could include, and it was pretty cool to see my Mate holding her own impromptu lecture.
Then Sakkara opened up the floor to allow people from Eastshore to speak. Patti LaRue was first, shooing Jocelyn to a seat near the council table so she could take the podium. Her remarks praised Jocelyn’s plan and research, making it clear she supported the idea.
The elderly woman ended with, “You know I’ve made it my life’s goal to preserve Eastshore’s history, and I’ve been delighted by how many young people are interested in it these days.
” She grinned at Ashlyn Anderson and her Mate.
“My collection is private, which is why I have to offer tea to fund it, but Eastshore deserves something built by the community, for the community. Putting it next to mine makes sense—and I’m not just saying that because I think a giant lighthouse in the middle of the historic district will attract plenty of attention.
We’ll have all sorts of people coming to the island for the day to visit! ”
The next man who stood up seemed to be on the fence, stating that he didn’t want his taxes to increase in order to pay for upkeep.
Then another woman stood to speak in support of it, pointing out that while Eastshore was known for their beaches, this could attract a different kind of day tripper, one interested in culture, and that could be beneficial to the community.