Because of Sydney (4 page)

Arnie Cratchett was supposed to be the ringleader for the anti-development supporters. I didn’t have a single quote from him I could use that wouldn’t put the story at risk. I could incorporate Shawna’s story, but she didn’t have the background or the leadership information I needed to explain the two positions. Her struggle would make a great feature down the road, but right now I needed facts. I needed something newsworthy.

I pulled out of the trailer park with little information I could use for a story and a deadline I had to meet by tonight. My stomach growled, and I knew before I could do anything I had to eat lunch.

I
looked at my watch again. It was Italian, handcrafted after my trip to Milan in the spring. The leather was soft but strong. The hands were thin blades of platinum that kept perfect time with the gears. It didn’t matter where the damn thing came from—he was late. I didn’t like waiting for anyone. Commissioner or CEO—I didn’t wait.

I motioned to the waitress to refill my iced tea. I would give him five more minutes.

“Anything else I can get you while you wait?” she asked. I looked over her shoulder and saw that cute little reporter at the hostess stand. For a split second I wondered if she had followed me here.

“No, I think I’m good.” I smiled.

The reporter followed the hostess through a maze of tables. I watched her navigate on those high heels. Her legs were long and slender. Still gorgeous. Still a reporter.

As they approached she shoved her sunglasses on her head.

“What are you doing here?” She looked startled.

“I have a lunch meeting. What about you, Miss Paige?”

She turned toward the hostess. “I’ll find my table in a second.”

“I’m having a lunch. I like this part of the beach. The view is nice here don’t you think?”

“It is. Very pretty. Dining alone?”

“I am. I’m working on a story. Who is your meeting with?”

I pushed the menu to the edge of the table. “Why? Thinking about writing about my lunch habits?”

“Since I don’t know your name that’s going to be difficult.” She lowered herself in the seat across from me, her eyes set in determination.

“I have a meeting.” I pointed to where she sat. “You’re in someone’s seat.”

“Why don’t I keep you company until he or she shows up? Maybe you could tell me what your involvement is in the Beach Combers Cove development while we wait.”

I laughed. “I’m afraid that’s not going to happen. I don’t mix business and pleasure.”

She squirmed slightly in her seat. “I thought you said you had a meeting.”

“I do. That is purely business.” I leaned forward. “You are the pleasure part.” The words had the effect I wanted. Her face flushed, and she twisted those pouty lips together.

She ruffled through her bag and withdrew a small pad of paper and a pen. She clicked the end. “I’d like to ask you a few questions. If you purchase the Beach Combers land, what do you plan to do with it?”

It was always the first question any reporter asked me. What was I going to do with the precious piece of land that held so much history or so many memories? I had heard it a hundred times.

What people didn’t seem to understand is that there was never going to be new land for me to harvest. Land didn’t materialize out of thin air, and I hadn’t figured out how to create an island yet. I had to find what was already out there. Sometimes it meant tearing down a hundred year old house. Sometimes it was destroying a rat-infested apartment slum. Some projects people welcomed, but it was the ones like this. The ones like the Palm Palace, places that people were sentimental about, that caused the most problems.

“You know what I think, Miss Paige?”

She stopped clicking her pen and looked at me. “What?”

“People are too attached.”

“Attached? What do you mean?” She stopped clicking her pen. The flecks in her hazel eyes darkened.

“They get caught up in ghosts. Why hold on to something that is old and falling apart when you could make it new and full of value again?”

“Because some people find value in the past.”

I tapped my fingers on the table. “Too much I think.”

“So will you at least admit that you are interested in the land deal? It’s going to be public record soon enough. This is your opportunity to tell the developer’s side of the story—before anyone else gets their spin on it.”

The sunlight from the window caught her hair, turning the strands almost a honey color. It was distracting; she was distracting.

“Look, Miss Paige, I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut our interview short.”

I spotted Carlos Hernandez making his way to the table.

“Sorry I’m late, Mason.” His dark mustache had a way of twitching when he spoke.

I stood to shake his hand. “Not a problem, Carlos.” I cleared my throat. “Maybe you know Miss Paige.”

She wiggled out of the chair and stood. “Mr. Hernandez, we met at the last city council meeting. Sydney Paige from the
News & Record
.”

I could tell he recognized her. “Of course. You were the one asking all of the rezoning questions.”

“That was me.”

“Nice to see you again.”

She collected her bag and slid it on her shoulder. “I hope you two enjoy your lunch,
Mason
.” She winked and hurried to her table at the other end of the restaurant.

“Talking to the press, already?” Carlos eyed me.

“No, she was at the site this morning interviewing some of the residents. We just ran into each other. Do you know her well?”

Carlos picked up the menu I had folded. “I try to make it my business to know as many of the local reporters as I can. It has its benefits, especially around election time.”

I nodded. “I’m sure.”

“She’s new. I’ve only seen her at a few of the council meetings.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Doesn’t mean she can’t stir up trouble for us.” He smiled as the waitress approached ready to take his drink order.

“You think there is going to be a lot of local resistance to the project?” I took a sip of the tea refill.

“I’ll have an iced tea and a grilled steak sandwich,” he instructed our server.

I waited for him to answer my question. I might have underestimated our timeline for construction if we had red tape to wade through.

“The only real resistance is going to be at the park. I doubt the rest of the island is going to be in the middle of it, but all it takes is one attention grabbing story to get everyone riled up.” He looked over my shoulder.

I turned to follow his stare. Sydney was typing something into her phone. “And you think someone like her could be the problem?”

“It only takes one. From what I know about her she’s a go-getter. Had plenty of rezoning questions for me.” He looked outside at the shoreline. “You know I’m up for re-election in the fall.”

I was prepared for the conversation to take this turn. “How many terms have you served now? Is it five?”

“Sure is.”

I smiled. “Well, I know the good citizens of South Padre would be happy to see you serve a sixth. How is your campaign going?”

“I try not to get weighed down with the campaign numbers, but it never hurts to add to your list of supporters.”

“No, it sure doesn’t.”

There were lines I wouldn’t cross. I wasn’t about to do anything illegal that would risk my company or this deal, but there were blurry lines I ran into every once in a while. This was one of those times. Carlos and I would navigate the unspoken terms of our arrangement.

“The more time I spend in South Padre, the more interested I am in the politics here.”

“How are things going over at the condo deal?” Carlos asked. “I was happy when construction started. Grey hired all local work.”

“The condos are selling. I think there are only five left. I leave the details to my business partners.”

“You know your dad was a friend of mine. He never wanted to sell that place.”

I gripped the knife in my right hand when the server placed our plates on the table. The mention of my father irritated me.

“I didn’t sell it.” I forced a smile. I hated unexpected stories about my father.

The commissioner chuckled. “Splitting hairs don’t you think?”

“The land is still in the family. I made a smart business decision, which is exactly what I plan to do with the trailer park.” I lowered my voice. “I need to know what kind of opposition I’m facing if I build the resort.”

Carlos took a bite of his sandwich. “There’s only one commissioner who is anti-development. She always causes problems, but she never wins. It would make things a lot smoother if you could get her to go along with the idea.”

“Which commissioner?”

“Janet Rodriguez. She’s new, about as green as your reporter friend.” He laughed.

“What’s her story? Why is she anti-development?”

“She’s an environmentalist.”

I groaned. They were my worst nightmare. A political environmentalist who was anti-development would create a firestorm of problems.

“Anyone else I should be concerned about?”

“Nah. If you land this deal you’ll have enough support from the voters. I can’t let Mitchell Lachlan’s son down.” He meant it as a compliment, but my skin crawled and my stomach knotted. I didn’t want any damn favors because of my last name.

“I appreciate that, Carlos.” I had to work from clenching my jaw.

The waitress appeared with the check. I snatched it before the commissioner could grab it.

“Lunch is on me,” I offered.

He wiped his face, taking extra time with his mustache. “Well, thank you.”

“Thanks for the info, Carlos. I’m glad we could meet for lunch.”

“Sure thing. I’m looking forward to your project getting started. Jobs for Padre are always a good thing in my opinion.” He slapped me on the back as we stood from the table. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you get this pushed through the council. You have my word.”

I smiled. It was exactly what I was counting on. “I’ll be in touch.” I watched as he walked out of the restaurant. I sat to wait for the waitress to pick up the bill with my credit card.

“You’re Mason Lachlan.” Sydney dropped into the commissioner’s empty chair, looking pleased. The tips of her cheekbones were flushed pink. Her eyes almost had a glimmer.

“And how did you figure that out over lunch?”

“It wasn’t that hard.” She waved her smart phone in front of me. “Lunching with the longest sitting South Padre commissioner? What did you talk about?”

“Our golf game.” I lied.

“Come on. You can’t seriously think I would believe that.” She laid the phone on the table. I noticed her long nails.

“I don’t know what you believe, but I have another meeting I need to attend.” I thanked the server for the check and signed the receipt.

“I read about you,” she spouted.

“Find something interesting?”

“Mostly just basic info.”

“Sounds boring.” I didn’t know what she had unearthed over the course of lunch. I tried to keep my eyes off her lips when she talked.