Chapter 3
Zoe
I remember Landon Prince.
He doesn’t remember me, but I remember him.
Just as cocky and self-important as he was when I was a kid.
He was the guy in the pink shorts. The teenager who told me I was an idiot for pretending to be a US Senator the day he caught me playing in my dad’s office. “Scrawny nobodies from a little backwoods town can’t be senators.”
He may look like Thor—tousled blond hair, piercing green eyes, all the muscles—but he doesn’t have the hero’s moral compass.
That conceited, narcissistic jerk is not going to touch the Reeves mansion if I have anything to say about it.
He underestimates me—and my desire to protect my town.
As I drive down the bluff from the estate, I send a group text to the town council asking for an emergency meeting. Lucky texts back that they are at The Bright Spot, so I swerve into the first parking spot I find on Main Street and jog inside.
I should call my dad and tell him what’s going on, but time is pressing. We need to file an injunction or something before Landon’s crew tears down the house.
Six of the seven town council members share two tables in the center of the coffee shop.
Charlotte is the president. She and her husband, Jack, own Siren’s Shelf Books and have been married for over forty years.
They say the key to a long fulfilling relationship is proximity, so they rarely leave each other’s sides.
Jack serves as the head of our Historical Preservation Society, so it works.
Bill owns North Coast hardware and coaches little league.
Elsbeth and Paisley are sisters as different as Barbie and Wednesday Adams. Elsbeth is six years older than Lucky and I, while Paisley is two years younger and practically worships Lucky, much to my annoyance.
Greyson is the high school science teacher who always wears a tie with some sciencey thing on it.
Archer Reeves is the only missing member of the council, but he’s busy with his law practice, so it doesn’t surprise me that he’s not here.
Lucky sits at the head of the table wearing a sneering scowl. She bounces her foot, arms crossed over her chest. “Well? What did he have to say?”
“He plans to build cabins around the estate. Ten of them.”
“Like an Airbnb-VRBO thing?” Elsbeth pushes her lime-green glasses up the bridge of her nose.
“Those are the worst.” Bill drums his fingers on the table. “People rent them and throw loud parties. Destroy the houses.”
“Landon doesn’t seem like the kind of man who would let tenants get away with that. He said he bought the land for its peace and quiet.”
“It’s about time Mr. Webber sold the property,” Jack says.
“Webber and Martha never did anything with it after…” Their eyes settle on me, and I swallow the cotton clogging my throat.
He doesn’t need to finish the sentence for us all to know he’s referring to my mom dying.
“Anyway.” He scrubs his hands on his khaki pants.
“The Historical Preservation Society has levied fines and taxes against them for years. The total must be almost five hundred thousand dollars by now. This way, Mr. Prince pays the back taxes and restores the estate to standard.”
If only it were that easy. “He’s not going to listen to us. He wouldn’t listen to me when I begged him not to destroy the house.”
“That’s what he said he wanted to do? Destroy the house to build the cabins?” Charlotte fans herself like she’s about to swoon. “Goodness, me. We can’t have that.”
“He had a drawing on a napkin, so I don’t know exactly.” He was specific in what he didn’t say. He didn’t answer a single question until I pulled the napkin from his hand. I was guessing that it was important based on the way he rubbed his thumb delicately over the ink on the corner.
“Maybe he’s starting a cult,” Lucky whispers.
“What do we do?” Paisley directs her question to Lucky, but I answer first.
“I’m calling an emergency meeting of the town council and Historical Preservation Society.”
Lucky pounds her fist on the table. “Let the meeting begin.”
Charlotte glares at Lucky. “That’s my job.”
Greyson pulls out his phone to take the meeting minutes. “If Prince doesn’t respect the estate’s heritage, we need to convince Mr. Webber to cancel the sale.”
“He won’t,” Francesca says from behind the counter. “Ryan tried to talk him out of it this morning, but they’re drowning in debt.”
Bill crosses his arms over his chest. “We block Mr. Prince’s permits and prevent him from doing any work on the property.”
“You said cabins. What if he’s building a boy scout camp? Do we want to stop that?” Charlotte asks.
“Based on the conversation I just had, he’s not philanthropic. He doesn’t care what we want. He’s out for himself and doesn’t care about the town. Any work he does will negatively affect us if we don’t find a way to make him see our point of view.”
“You can’t know that. Were you nice to him?” Charlotte asks.
I chew the inside of my cheek. “Mostly.”
They grimace.
It wasn’t my most diplomatic conversation, but the condescending jerk had it coming. Walking away in the middle of a friendly conversation, accusing me of trying to manipulate him, refusing to tell me his plans…not gentlemanly behavior.
My usually personable temperament and charm weren’t cutting it.
“No wonder he didn’t tell you his plan.” Lucky unfolds and stands from the table. “If you went in there growling like a wolf, I wouldn’t have been nice to you either.”
“Maybe the council should talk to him?” Paisley says.
Lucky shakes her head. “What Rainwater Bay needs is income. We need Mr. Prince to build a resort to lure tourists away from Pine Ridge and Seattle to our neck of the woods. Something as big and grand as the Reeves estate itself.”
“He doesn’t want that,” I say.
Neither do I. The house is elegant and refined, not something you remodel into two dozen motel rooms. Besides, he said he wants peace and quiet. What does that look like to him?
Elsbeth tents her fingers under her chin. “This is the perfect opportunity for Mayor Winslow to negotiate with the newcomer. Encourage Prince to help us out. In exchange for the permits and contracts he’ll need to get the project done, of course. What is the mayor’s stance, Zoe?”
“Umm.” I knew I should have called Dad. Stupid mistake, Zoe. But I know Dad well enough to know what he’ll say. What he wants isn’t what’s best for the town though, so I face the bear and lie…again. “He wants the house preserved.”
Lucky flutters her fingers. “Prince can build around the house. I move to require Mr. Prince to build a resort to boost our economy.”
Paisley raises her hand. “I second.”
“We need to talk about this,” I say. “You can’t just force him to build something. Neither the Historical Preservation Society nor the town council have that much power. Besides, a mega resort won’t solve our problems.”
“Three stores closed in the last month.” Lucky holds up three fingers in succession like I can’t count. “It won’t be long before Rainwater Bay is as much of a ghost town as the Reeves estate. Unless that’s what you want? Is that what your dad wants? Is that why he’s not doing his job?”
“He’s healing.”
“Is he feeling better?” Charlotte places her hand on my forearm.
“Everyday. But he’s still not at a hundred percent.” The truth is he’s lucky to be alive. Returning to work isn’t an option. It’s too stressful, especially given today’s developments.
But he doesn’t believe the doctors. He hopes in a month or two or six, he’ll be strong enough to sit in this chair and debate with the council.
Our plan is for me to be the go-between and prevent them from holding an emergency election. My plan is to save his reputation until he realizes it’s time to retire. I will tell his lie until he’s ready to tell them the truth on his terms. By then we will be ready for whatever the future holds.
“I agree with Lucky and Greyson.” Charlotte’s gaze is full of sympathy and pity.
“Baby Girl…Zoe, your daddy has blocked improvements that would have helped the town because of his broken heart. This can’t be one of those times.
A big resort would be a boon for Rainwater Bay.
” She wiggles her phone screen showing an article with a picture of Landon and people I assume are his parents and a brother smiling on a yacht somewhere sunny.
“The Prince family owns hotels all over the world, so they know what they’re doing.
It should be an easy conversation to convince him that this plan has merit.
” Charlotte raises her hand. “All in favor of, first, granting the Prince Corporation permits to build a resort and, second, for Zoe to oversee the project for the council and Historical Preservation Society say aye.”
“What about Archer? He needs to be given an opportunity to hear the proposal,” I say. Anything to buy time for me to think of another solution.
The estate is part of his family legacy. It’s the reason people snub him, his brothers, and his mom when they walk down the street. He should have a say in what we do and how we approach Landon about it.
Charlotte shakes her head. “We have a quorum. All in favor of both measures?
“Aye.” Voices echo around the coffee shop before I can object. Overseer? Babysitter is more like it.
But Landon Prince isn’t a baby I can put in a playpen. He won’t listen to me. And I might strangle him if his condescension continues.
“All opposed?”
I bite my tongue. This is not how this meeting was supposed to go. They were supposed to issue an injunction or cease and desist. Some legal loophole that prevents Landon from starting construction on the property.
How did I lose control of this meeting so quickly?
Do they really think they can strong-arm Landon into building a resort?
Okay, Zoe, think like the mayor. What would Dad do?
He would find out as much information as he can about Mr. Prince. Befriend Landon—even if Dad hates him—and convince him that helping the town is his idea, not one I planted in his brain. The same way Dad convinced me I love broccoli.
But Dad won’t want Landon to improve the property. He won’t want him to touch the house that meant so much to Mom, so how do I convince Dad to agree to the project for the good of the town and convince Landon to increase the scale of his project to meet the town’s demands?
I don’t know.
I need backup. Someone who cares as much about the house and this town as I do. A spy in Landon’s camp. Two would be even better. Men who deserve a say.