Chapter 28
Logan
Fuller was brilliant. Shell middens were shells and animal bones left behind by Native Americans who’d inhabited the island before European settlers. Some of the heaps often found along coastal and lake shores were ceremonial in nature, while others contained burial grounds. The Florida courts had previously ruled that developers must bring in archaeologists upon finding any sign of a historical site. Archaeologists would then document the ruins, and depending on their findings, development could be halted temporarily for relocation or permanently for preservation.
It only took a few phone calls to put plans in motion to explore Heron Isle’s downtown waterfront for shell middens. Helen, the president of Heron Isle Conservancy, had just returned from presenting her latest research and offered to meet with him Saturday afternoon. He’d taken the first flight back Saturday morning, spending the entire trip researching all the different facets of his plan, from the shell middens to the smaller tour boats and even another idea that had been percolating since he’d seen the rundown Hill House on the historic tour with Lucy and Gladys.
Logan had suggested Helen meet him at the coffee shop downtown, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She insisted he come out to her home, which sat on the west side of the island up against the marsh. From the moment he got out the car, he was on high alert, looking out for Sidney, Helen’s “teaching” alligator. He wasn’t really interested in meeting Sidney and couldn’t imagine why anyone would keep an alligator for a pet, educational tool or not. As he surveyed the marsh that sat just behind Helen’s house, it occurred to him that Helen might have more than one alligator lurking around this place.
Helen opened the door and he saw that she was a petite woman who couldn’t weigh a hundred pounds, not the burly woman he’d pictured wrestling alligators. But she was a zoologist, not someone who lived on the swamps of the bayou trapping alligators for sport. He’d just never met anyone with her reported love of reptiles, much less a woman who’d made it her life’s work. She was cheerful and welcoming, inviting him in to have iced tea on her screened-in porch overlooking the marsh.
He looked out over the water while he waited, observing the grasses standing in tall clumps along the bank and farther out into the water bending gently in the wind. The rustling of the grasses combined with the wind chimes hanging on the porch to create a beautiful melody. Oak trees towered around the house on all sides, the plentiful shade providing temperatures that felt ten degrees cooler than the deck of his beach house this morning.
Helen came up behind him, offering him a glass of sweet tea. His lips puckered as the sweet liquid hit his tongue. That was something he’d never get used to if he lived here. Might as well suck on a sugar cube. Wanting to be polite, he sipped it appreciatively and then got down to business.
They’d already spoken at length on the phone, and Helen had called an archaeologist friend, who lived just south in St. Augustine and taught at the college there, to inquire about the possibility of middens on the shoreline of Heron Isle.
“Do you think there’s any chance of middens along the waterfront?” Logan asked.
Helen smiled. “I’m almost certain. I went back through some historical documentation we have on file at the conservancy, and it seems clear that the Timucuan people who lived here had a settlement along the water right where the river meets the ocean, basically in the same location as the marina we use today. Because the only current structures are the dock and the restaurant out over the water, no formal study has ever been done on the land itself along the waterfront. My friend Doug is coming up tomorrow to conduct an initial examination.”
Logan clapped, startling Helen. “I’m sorry. I’m just excited. If there’s any indication there might be middens, the Florida Supreme Court has already ruled in a previous case that further studies must be conducted before any development proceeds. If Turner already owned the land, we might not be able to stop him, even if there were middens. But my guess is he’ll back out when he learns the costs involved with properly excavating the area and potentially fighting in court.”
“And we would definitely fight it.” Helen nodded. “The conservancy has access to a central fund with other conservancy organizations in the state specifically for these kinds of legal battles. It’s important to protect and preserve our heritage.”
They arranged to meet with Doug on the waterfront shortly after sunrise Sunday morning. They didn’t want to attract too much attention in case it turned out to be nothing. Helen had already cleared the meeting and initial exam with Mayor Jenkins. Doug’s study would only require a small removal of soil in a few places along the waterfront.
“Before you leave, there was one thing Mayor Jenkins wanted me to show you. Wait right here.” Helen grinned at him before exiting the porch through the door that led outside. He watched as she walked over to a barn to the right of the house. Did she have an office in there? Maybe Mayor Jenkins wanted him to review some of the historical documents she’d mentioned.
He pulled out his phone and texted Fuller to let him know how the meeting went, thanking him again for the suggestion. When he looked up, Helen was approaching the porch with something in her hands.
He nearly dropped his phone when he realized she was holding an alligator that looked about two feet long.
Helen let out a hearty laugh as she opened the door. “George told me you might wet your pants.”
Thankfully, he wasn’t that scared, but his heart was definitely racing as she moved closer. If he hadn’t been seated, he would have backed away. He briefly considered leaping up so he could move, but Helen stopped a few feet from him.
“Logan, I’d like you to meet Sidney. He’s taught many a child on the island to respect—but not fear—the alligators that live here in our fresh water. As you can see, his mouth is closed with a band. It doesn’t hurt him, and he can’t hurt you.”
Logan held his hand up in a sort of half wave. “Hi, Sidney.” He was hoping that would be the end of the meet and greet.
“Would you like to hold him?” Helen lifted the alligator in his direction.
“Oh, no. That’s not necessary. I can respect him from a distance. That’s what you’re supposed to do with alligators, right?”
Helen chuckled. “Yes, that’s right. Maybe next time you’ll feel a little braver. Sidney tends to grow on people.”
Logan doubted he’d ever jump at the chance to hold a live alligator, but he nodded with a nervous smile. “Yes, maybe.”
“All right, we’ll let you get going. I’ll see you at the marina in the morning.”
Helen started talking to the alligator as Logan headed to the front door. She talked to it like people talked to dogs and cats.
“You’re such a good boy, Sidney. Would you like a treat? Let’s get you a little treat.”
Walking slower once he was safely on the other side of the front door and heading to his car, Logan checked the time. He had one more stop to make.
He had just finished snapping photos of Hill House when Gladys arrived along with her realtor friend, Terri.
“Logan, I’d like you to meet my dear friend, Terri Neal.” Gladys stood back while Logan and Terri shook hands. “I just can’t tell you how delighted I was to hear from you yesterday. The foundation would love to partner with you on preserving this house.”
When Logan thought about making Heron Isle his permanent address, his mind kept drifting back to the abandoned house downtown with the hand-carved gingerbread detail. He was sure if that much care had been taken on the porch, there must be more architectural surprises inside. He and Fuller had always talked about saving historic properties, and houses here were much cheaper than those in Boston.
Even if his new plan for the waterfront wasn’t successful, and his idea of becoming the full-time manager of the city’s real estate holdings and marina fell through, this house was perfect for a preservation project. He was beginning to let himself feel optimistic about staying on Heron Isle.
Terri showed him through the first floor, which had a formal living room, dining room, and parlor, along with the kitchen. Upstairs there were three bedrooms. The house had already been cleaned out, nothing remained but dust and a few curtains hanging haphazardly. Most of the plaster walls showed damage, and the kitchen and bathrooms were all complete gut jobs. The floors had water damage in a few places, and large water stains bulged and bubbled in the ceiling. Even so, the house had great bones.
The floors were all heart pine, and handmade crown molding encircled the top of every room. Logan dragged a finger through the thick layer of dust on the hand-carved banister. It and the stairs appeared to be the same heart pine that had once grown abundantly in this area. Everything was stained a deep shade of brown. He was delighted to find more gingerbread detailing at the top of the doorways leading into the living room and dining room on each side of the front entry hall. Beautiful wooden panels had been added at the top of each doorway, then carved into the intricate pattern. He saw a few pieces that were cracked, but that was an easy fix with the right contractor.
He approached the ladies, who were waiting for him near the front door, and asked Gladys, “The family has already agreed to sell?” Gladys had been negotiating on behalf of the foundation in hopes they could raise the money needed to buy and preserve the house.
She nodded. “Yes, when the siblings heard we might have the funding sooner than anticipated, they all agreed it’s for the best. The foundation just hadn’t been able to come up with the cash to make them believe we were serious previously. That’s why I was so happy when you called.”
Logan smiled as he turned around in the front foyer, taking one last look at all the handmade details.
“It’s perfect.” He turned back to the ladies. “I need to send some photos to my business partner, but it’s exactly what we were hoping to find inside.”
“I bet Lucy is excited you plan to bring the library back.” Gladys gave him a knowing smile.
He shook his head. “No, I haven’t told her yet. Can we keep this between us for now? There’s still a lot that needs to fall into place for it to happen. I don’t want to get her hopes up just yet.”
Terri pulled an imaginary zipper across her lips while Gladys nodded her assent.
Logan had left Fuller to make some calls to an investor they knew who was always in the market for tax credits. To maximize federal and state tax credits for historic preservation, the house had to be for commercial or nonprofit use, not residential. Luckily, it was close enough to Main Street to be in an overlay district that allowed for certain nonresidential uses, a library easily fitting within the definition. As a nonprofit, the library wouldn’t need the tax credits, so they could sell them on the open market. Those funds would in turn provide the revenue the library needed to keep it solvent for at least the first few years, and during those early years they could put the infrastructure in place to apply for grants and fundraise to keep it running for years to come.
He and Fuller would split ownership of the building with the Heron Isle Historic Foundation—which was moving Gladys’s office to one of the upstairs rooms—a solid real estate investment that was meaningful to all of them. He couldn’t think of a more fitting way to get involved in historic preservation on a more personal level.
The look he imagined on Lucy’s face when she found out was just the cherry on top.
Logan texted Fuller a dozen or more pictures of the inside and outside of the house as Terri locked it back up, promising to upload an entire album when she was back at her computer.
Riding a high as he walked back to his car, he saw the town square in the distance and decided to go check the Little Free Library. He still hadn’t decided how to tell Lucy he was Gatsby’s Ghost, but he was curious to see if she’d responded to his last letter.
The town square was always bustling on weekends, and Logan became hyperaware of everyone around him as he approached the library. He searched the faces, nervous Lucy would find him there. Not recognizing anyone nearby, he pulled on the handle to open the library door. Inside, he began going through the new books on the ledge. He was only a couple books in when he saw her familiar handwriting on a sticky note attached to a volume on the history of Florida’s barrier islands. Opening the book, he found the index card she’d left inside.
Gatsby’s Ghost,
You were right to assume I’m not much of a risk taker. The book you left was exactly what I needed. I took a chance, and guess what? It paid off! I put myself out there for something I’ve wanted professionally for quite some time, and I was rewarded. I can’t believe I’m saying this to someone I don’t even know, but I felt you should be one of the first to tell. I am going to be a published author! Maybe one day it’ll be my book you find in this library.
I wasn’t sure what to leave you next, but I thought perhaps you might enjoy a book on the history of this area. I always find there’s so much to appreciate around here if I take the time to open my eyes.
Thank you again for encouraging me to take a risk. I hope you finally hit that home run.
Island Girl
Logan shook his head, his mouth open wide in a smile that stretched his cheeks until they hurt. She’d done it. Lucy had sent off the synopsis she was working on and landed a book deal.
His first instinct was to run straight over to her store and congratulate her, but he knew he couldn’t just burst in and tell her he was Gatsby’s Ghost. As far as she knew, Logan had no idea about her book deal. They hadn’t spoken since he walked her back to her car after the meeting Wednesday night.
He considered going over to the store just to say hi and see if she’d tell him about the book deal, but he knew he still had a lot of work to do before Tuesday rolled around, when he had to go confront the council to try to stop the sale to Turner. He forced his legs to walk in the opposite direction to his car. First things first. He needed to put together his presentation for the council meeting and finish the paperwork for Hill House.
Maybe after he saved the waterfront from development and announced he was bringing back the library he could convince Lucy to forgive him for the small lies he’d told since learning she was Island Girl.
She had to forgive him. He was gambling his future on it.