Chapter 8
Logan
Logan pinched his nose between his eyes. He’d been poring over the town’s financial statements and contracts since he’d finished his conversation with Lucy. He understood where she was coming from, he really did. But he couldn’t get caught up in nostalgia and emotion. He had a job to do, and they hadn’t come up with any ideas they could both agree on that would produce the kind of money Heron Isle needed. Besides, three of the seven commissioners had already made it clear they expected a new development on the waterfront. They’d assured him they could get the fourth vote if Logan could come up with the right proposal.
The sound of his cell finally pulled his eyes away from his spreadsheets, which were all beginning to blur together.
“Hey, man,” he said to his best friend from college, Cameron Fuller.
“What’s up? Just calling to check in. Wanted to see how it’s going down there.”
Logan groaned as he leaned back in the desk chair. “Remember that summer when you interned in Idaho Springs?”
“Yeah, I got stuck in the sticks when you beat me out for the fellowship in Philly.”
Logan remembered how excited he’d been to land the most coveted fellowship of their city planning program. Boy, had his career taken an unexpected detour. He knew Fuller wasn’t trying to rub his face in it, but he felt it all the same.
“Remember how those community groups showed up to picket every meeting and hated the idea of absolutely anything new?”
Now Fuller was the one groaning. “That bad, huh?”
Logan filled in Fuller on his first town council meeting and some of the opposition he was facing. When he told him about Lucy, he intentionally left out that she was so attractive he’d almost asked her out for coffee when he ran into her the first time.
“Professor Parlow knows the mayor, right? So you must at least have that guy on your side.” Fuller was the only person Logan had confided in that he’d needed their old professor to call in a favor after he was passed over for jobs in almost a dozen other cities. And he was right. Logan needed to spend more time with the mayor and check the pulse of the council. After all, they were the ones who would ultimately vote for the plan, not Lucy and her friends. Sure, it was nice to have the support of the locals, but that wasn’t always the deciding factor in a vote like this.
“You really think closing the deal here will erase what happened in San Diego?” he asked Fuller, who was currently the Boston mayor’s chief of staff. “Man, I really want to be up there with you when this is all said and done.”
Fuller assured him that his word carried weight with the Boston mayor and that all he needed was a victory in Heron Isle to put a little distance between him and the one blip on his resume.
He said goodbye to Fuller and ripped his notes off the legal pad in front of him, starting over on a fresh sheet. Boston wasn’t going to be impressed by a few food carts and an open-air market. There had to be a bigger win here on Heron Isle.
“Mayor?” Logan knocked on the open door. “Do you have a minute?”
“Of course.” The mayor motioned for him to come in to his office. “Pull up a chair. What can I do for ya?”
“I thought it might be helpful to talk through the different interest groups that came forward to oppose the previous proposals. I’d like to know what I’m dealing with before I meet with people, that way I don’t get thrown a curve ball.” He’d read through all the minutes from the council meetings over the past few weeks, before he was formally introduced at the recent meeting, but he knew that only told part of the story. “I was hoping you could tell me more about who the power brokers are and what they really want out of this. Deal-breakers are always good to know too.”
The mayor leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands over his middle. “Smart. That’s why we hired you. Small-town politics can be tough to navigate.”
Logan nodded. “I ran into Lucy Sullivan again.”
“I see you’re getting the real Heron Isle experience. Can’t hide out around here.” The mayor shook his head, chuckling to himself. “How’d that go? I imagine she’s gearing up to go to war with us again.”
“She actually had some interesting ideas. Of course, they’re not going to generate the kind of revenue you’re looking for, but maybe there’s a way to work them into our master plan.”
“Lucy’s a little bit like a dog with a bone. I’m sure that’s not the last you’ll hear from her.” The mayor chuckled. “She means well, but she’s not exactly looking at this like the business proposition it is. I heard she’s been trying to negotiate to buy the building where her shop is. I doubt she ever imagined she’d own a business. She was planning to be a librarian, but then Annie surprised her by leaving her the bookstore. She took over the lease and owns the inventory, but it’s not like she’s getting rich off owning the store. She’d probably have to mortgage the beach cottage her dad left her to get the down payment, and even then, I’m not sure she understands what it means to own a historic building like that and suddenly be a landlord dealing with the tenants in the other spaces in the building and the repairs.” The mayor shook his head.
Logan was a little taken aback by the amount of personal information the mayor had just shared about Lucy. It was exactly why he’d gladly left his hometown in his rearview. Small towns were prone to gossip and people always being in each other’s business. He remembered how embarrassed his mother had been when she’d overheard two of her supposed friends in town talking about their farm falling on hard times. She’d come home crying and refused to go anywhere in town for weeks. Although his failure in San Diego had made the papers there, people had already moved on to another scandal before he could even pack his bags and get out of town. He could have stayed there the rest of his life and never had anyone bring it up again apart from those in real estate development circles.
Logan found himself jumping to Lucy’s defense. “You might be selling her short.”
The mayor raised an eyebrow in interest.
“You’re probably right that the bookstore alone isn’t ever going to be a cash cow, but being a landlord in the highest rent district on the island is a pretty smart move, if you ask me.” He had a sudden urge to stop by the bookstore later and find out more about her plans to buy the building, see if maybe he could help. Did she know about the substantial tax credits that would be available to her to update a historic building like that?
He cleared his throat to push down those thoughts and get back to the task at hand. He had enough work to do with the waterfront project, he couldn’t be taking on pet projects on the side. Not even for a beautiful woman whose smile was so tender and sweet it physically pained him when it disappeared and was replaced by her disapproving scowl.
Especially not for that reason.
“So other than the downtown business owners, who are we dealing with?” Logan was ready to change the subject and get back to the work at hand.
“Well, there’s the tree conservancy. They put together email campaigns like you’ve never seen. They flood our inboxes anytime there’s any development project on the agenda.”
“But what’s their play here?” Logan furrowed his brow. “There aren’t any protected trees in that area, just some palm trees that we can easily relocate.”
The mayor shrugged. “They’re more of a general conservation group. They started with trees, but when there weren’t groups organized to save the turtles or battle beach erosion, they took on those things too. They’d rather see the land on the waterfront be turned into green space.”
“Ok, so generally environmental. Got it.”
The mayor went on to describe the key players in the organization, and Logan scribbled notes on his pad. The mayor suggested he start with Helen Bowman, the organization’s president, but he warned that Helen was a bit eccentric. She rehabbed injured reptiles, from gopher tortoises to garden snakes, and the mayor also told him not to be surprised if he ran into an alligator should he go to Helen’s house to meet her. His name was Sidney and he’d lived at Helen’s since he was injured by a boat motor as a baby and abandoned by his mother. He couldn’t be released back into the wild. Helen had spent nearly three decades as a zoologist dedicated to reptile research and rehabilitation, and she often kept younger alligators to use for educational experiences in classrooms. When they got too big, she sent them to live at the reptile research center an hour south where she’d spent her career, and then she’d take in another young one for a while.
An alligator as a pet? Only in Florida. “It’s not an attack alligator, is it?” Logan laughed, but the look on the mayor’s face stopped him.
The mayor looked as if he was about to tell Logan that he should indeed beware of Sidney, but then he burst into a hearty laugh of his own.
“Nah, Sidney is harmless. He’s basically the town mascot. He visits every first-grade classroom and has been known to be Santa’s assistant when the kids come downtown for photos in December.”
“Okay, friendly pet alligator. Noted.” Logan shook his head as he made the note on this pad, although he couldn’t imagine this was a detail he’d forget. “Who’s next?”
“Well, then you’ve got the local fishermen, both the commercial guys and the charters. Both groups want low-cost dock space and for our fueling pumps to be repaired, but the charter guys are concerned about parking too. They need to keep convenient parking nearby for their guests, so they’d rather see a parking lot than more green space.”
“Lucy mentioned there was some support for an open-air seafood market on the waterfront. I assume both those groups would be in favor?”
The mayor removed his glasses and set them on his desk, deep wrinkles forming between his eyes. “Yes, we’ve been down that road. It’s one of the ideas that got pretty universal support. The fishermen are all in support, and the restaurants like the idea of sending their chefs down to grab the latest catch right off the docks. But here are the drawbacks as I see them. Have you ever been in an open-air seafood market?”
“Sure, the one in San Francisco is pretty popular.”
“They stink.” The mayor scrunched up his nose. “And they attract birds and other critters looking for handouts. Would our tourists value grabbing fresh seafood over the stench it would bring downtown? And the rats? I hear the rats are terrible in those markets.”
“It’s one of the few things that benefits both tourists and locals though. I’m sure there are ways to deter pests.” Plus, it was a small win he could try to get for Lucy. He could picture her smile when he told her the good news, feel her arms wrap around his neck as she hugged him in gratitude. “Did you run the financials? Could you charge enough for the stalls to make it worth giving up that kind of space on the waterfront?”
“Nah, we never got that far. Feel free to look into it if you want. At least it’s something that actually got support from more than one group.”
Logan made a note to reach out to a friend from grad school who worked in the San Francisco mayor’s office.
“There were also some people who supported the previous proposals, right? I’m assuming local developers, general contractors, those sorts of people?”
“Yeah, the ones who thought they stood to profit. There are also some people here and there who understand the financial predicament the town’s found itself in and figured the new development was a better fix than raising their taxes.”
“Okay.” Logan twisted his pen closed and slipped it back into his bag. “I think I’ve got what I need. I’m off to the Masonic lodge.”
“Good old boys’ club,” the mayor said, slipping his glasses on as he scooted back up to his desk. “They can be convinced to go pro-development if they think they’ll get something out of it. That group is full of all the bigwigs in town—lawyers, bankers, surveyors, you name it.”
“Noted.” Logan stood and started to make his way to the door before turning back to the mayor. “Hey, how big is that alligator? Sidney?”
“Haha, let’s just say you can’t miss him.”
Logan shook his head as he left the mayor’s office. He’d gone from black-tie dinners on yachts in San Diego where they discussed business over cigars and fifty-year-old scotch to dodging alligators to get meetings. Surely one day he’d look back and think it was a funny story to tell, but today was not that day.
As it turned out, the meeting at the Masonic lodge on the north end of the island wasn’t as far from his dealmaking in San Diego as he would have thought. The attire was more casual, and the scotch was replaced by bourbon, but the rest was pretty much the same. Power brokers acted like power brokers no matter where they were. Logan was pretty sure one developer from the north end had even offered him a bribe, although something could have been lost in translation. He couldn’t follow all the southern sayings, and there had been a lot of bourbon.
His brain was too fuzzy to concentrate on spreadsheets after lunch with the Masons, so he headed back home to take a cold shower and sober up. Luckily, one of the men who hadn’t partaken in the bourbon offered him a ride home. He’d get his car downtown later.
He thought of the book he’d taken from the Little Free Library and fallen asleep reading the night before. Island Girlhad been right. He’d never seen anyone tackle Zelda’s side of the story. He’d once heard something described as “hauntingly beautiful,” and it was a description that perfectly fit this book.
Settling in one of the tan leather armchairs by the back windows that overlooked the beach, he picked up where he’d left off. It only took a few pages before he came across a passage Island Girlhad marked.
“In life’s tapestry, catastrophe and triumph alike appear as threads predestined. Neither love’s devotion nor wealth’s embrace can divert the course already woven. We journey through, subject to the patterns predetermined, vulnerable to the hands of fate that can uplift or unravel us.”
He read it again, fighting the bourbon fog in his brain to concentrate on each word. It was true, although depressing. The words made it sound like everything was predestined and no one could actively do anything to change the outcome. He simply didn’t believe that.
Glancing up from the book to look at the ocean just beyond the dunes, he thought about why she’d chosen to mark this passage. There was no note in the margin, and he was curious what the words meant to her. Based on the marks and notes she’d left in the other books, she was going through some sort of struggle. Although he didn’t know anything about her—aside from her taste in books—his gut told him it wasn’t a situation of her making. He was curious, of course, but he also had a strong desire to figure out her problem and solve it. After all, he was a “fixer,” as he’d overheard someone call him at the town council meeting.
He couldn’t concentrate on reading anymore as his thoughts were too consumed with questions about Island Girl, so he decided to take a shower. Often it was where he got some of his best ideas, and immediately after toweling off and dressing, he went to his box of books. Island Girl sounded as if she needed a little confidence boost, and he had just the book. It was one he’d read on his plane ride out of San Diego to psych himself up for the new job. He located the book on mental resilience and dropped it into his leather messenger bag. He’d walk back to town on the beach, leave the book, and grab dinner. By then he would have sobered up enough to drive his car back to the house.
The sun was hitting the beach at a descending angle from the west side of the island, but it was still unbearably hot. Logan took off his shoes and carried them as he walked toward the shoreline. The water was warm enough for a bath, offering little reprieve from the early June heat.
The sound of the waves crashing less than twenty yards from where he walked on the edge of the waterline was soothing, nearly drowning out the shrieks of the children around him. They ran into the water until waves splashed them in the face, nearly knocking over the smaller ones.
He snapped a photo of the uncrowded beach for his sister, Carly, who had messaged him earlier to see how he was settling in.
“Much quieter here than in San Diego,” he typed, before sending the photo.
A giant splash sounded behind him and he felt water spray across his back. He turned to see a Great Dane with a tennis ball dripping with water hanging from its enormous jowls.
“I’m so sorry!” a woman called from a few yards away. As she approached and slipped her sunglasses on top of her head, he recognized her from Lucy’s table at dinner the previous evening. She stopped when she’d identified him.
“It’s okay. I was hot anyway.” Logan laughed as he pulled the wet polo shirt away from his back. “Logan Lancaster,” he said, extending his hand. “I don’t think we were properly introduced.”
“Pam Beasley.” Her reply was curt, but she shook his hand quickly.
“And who’s this?” Logan petted the dog on its head, which came up to his chest.
“This is Ava. We’re just out getting some exercise. She loves the water.” Pam took the tennis ball from Ava’s mouth and stepped back to lure the dog just out of the sea, then she threw the ball down the beach, where it bounced a couple times on the wet sand before Ava caught up to it. She began trotting back triumphantly with the ball in her mouth.
“Are you a downtown business owner too?” Logan asked. The mayor had warned him before the meeting that the various groups tended to sit together.
Pam nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Cool Change, the consignment boutique on Main Street.”
“Little River Band.” Logan hummed a couple bars of the song by the same name.
“Exactly.” Pam’s taught features relaxed into a smile. “It was the name of my dad’s fishing boat.” She took the ball from Ava again and threw it farther down the beach toward downtown. Ava took off after it as Pam fell in step beside Logan to walk in Ava’s direction.
“You grew up here?”
Logan figured Pam to be in her mid- to late fifties. She was petite but very well put together. It was obvious fashion was her thing. Even for a walk with the dog on the beach she wore white linen pants rolled up at the ankles and a matching top with a long, chunky gold chain necklace. Several gold and silver bracelets lined her wrist, jangling when she moved.
“I did. Heron Isle born and raised. I remember when the Waterway Café was a welcome center that served free orange juice to tourists.”
“I didn’t know that. What was downtown like back then?”
“Pretty much like it is today. A few businesses have come and gone, but did you know that half a dozen of them are run by direct descendants of the original proprietors?”
“No, I didn’t know that either.”
“Sounds like you have a lot to learn, Mr. Lancaster.” Pam gave him a sly smile that said she knew the task he was facing was bigger than he probably realized.
“Please, call me Logan.” He flashed her the smile that had helped him set a record at the date auction held annually for San Diego’s humane society. It was how he and Catherine had met. She’d won him, which pretty much set the tone for the rest of their relationship.
Pam nodded, taking the ball from Ava again and throwing it farther toward downtown.
“Logan, what are your intentions here on Heron Isle?”
“Well.” He sighed. “I was hired by the commission to find a waterfront development plan that helps fund the budget deficit and keeps the town financially successful for years to come.”
“And have you come up with any new ideas for how to get that done?”
“I have a few.” He flashed her his winning smile again. “But I’d rather hear your ideas. I’m still trying to get a feel for what Heron Isle needs.”
“That would depend on who you ask.” Pam looked out over the ocean where a pelican was diving for its dinner. “But I imagine what you’ll hear from quite a few is that they like things how they are. They’d rather increase the bed tax and have the tourists foot the bill, but then the tourism board and the two resorts bow up at that idea. Just look around you though.” She flung both arms wide, encouraging him to take it all in. “Why fix something that isn’t broken?”
Despite the humid air and the sun streaking across the beach, a chill went up his spine at her words. “Why fix something that isn’t broken?” They were the same words his father had said to him when he’d come home from his freshman year of college with new ideas to modernize the dairy farm. His father had been too stubborn to change his mind, ultimately losing the farm, but Logan wouldn’t let Heron Isle make the same mistake. Not on his watch.