The Hideaway

He knocked and I jumped up off the couch. When I got to the front door, I pulled it open and held my hands out. “They’re so clean, you could eat off them.”

But it wasn’t Crawford.

“Miss Jenkins. I hoped I’d find you here.”

Sammy Grosvenor. Middle Bay Land Development. My stomach dropped.

“I haven’t seen you around the diner again, so I thought I’d come by for a little chat. Do you mind?” He put his hand on the door and pushed.

“I do mind.” I held on to the door firmly. “If you need to talk to me about anything, we can do it out here. Although I can’t imagine that we have anything to say to each other.”

“Oh, there’s plenty.” He peered around me into the house. “Clark was right. He said a lot’s been going on around here and I can see it. Looks good, Miss Jenkins. I hate to tell you it’s all about to change.”

I crossed my arms over my chest.

He raised an eyebrow. “Allow me to explain. You’re the owner of one of the choicest plots of waterfront property in Sweet Bay. I tried to tell you this when we spoke at the diner a couple months ago. Only one other piece of property rivals yours in terms of desirability, but the owner has proven to be quite stubborn. With the unfortunate death of your grandmother and your refusal to sell, I’ve informed Mayor McClain that it’s high time we get ourselves in gear and make some necessary changes.”

He trained his eyes on me, his round face red with heat and exertion, his hair matted down on top. My stomach tightened into a ball of knots waiting for him to explain, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of appearing interested.

“I’ll cut to the chase. My case to the mayor shows that this stretch of property serves no one but The Hideaway’s cornucopia of senior citizens. The area will better serve Sweet Bay, and the entire county, if it is developed into something a little more upstanding. I’ve always liked the idea of some fancy loft apartments. You know the kind—industrial look, exposed pipes, metal railings. Maybe some shops and restaurants underneath and a nice boardwalk along the water to connect it all.

“With my plan in the works, Sweet Bay could rival other tourist destinations along the Gulf Coast. I’ve assured the mayor’s staff that these changes would move us up substantially in the eyes of folks looking to spend vacation dollars. The mayor couldn’t say yes fast enough.”

“Mr. Grosvenor—”

“Please, call me Sammy.”

“Mr. Grosvenor, you’ve been trying to get your hands on this house for years, and my answer is the same as it was at the diner. You’re not getting the house. Now if you’ll excuse me, a friend is coming over soon and I’d prefer it if you didn’t ruin our dinner.”

I tried to close the door, but he stuck a foot in the doorway. I opened it back up and sighed. He was a bothersome bug, a pest that wouldn’t go away.

“You misunderstand me, Miss Jenkins. I don’t want the house. I have no use for it. I want the house gone.”

“Gone?” I laughed. “You can’t do that. It’s not your house to take.”

My voice sounded light, but inside, bells were going off. Sammy had come around many times, but he’d never had a real plan, just a desire to take land out from under an old lady’s nose. This time, it sounded like he’d done his homework.

“The mayor agrees with me that eminent domain is the right road to take. It’s the first step in paving the way for our new Sweet Bay. I’ll allow time for the residents to collect their things and make some plans, but do inform them that they should be quick. I don’t have time for the Ingrams and Greggs to sit around and bemoan their misfortune. We’re all adults here and this is how the world works. I’ll stop by again with the necessary papers, but I wanted to let you know what’s going on.”

“That’s—this is impossible.”

“I’m afraid it is very possible,” he said with less bravado. “You know, Miss Jenkins, many of the residents in this town think I’m slimy. They think I do nothing but twiddle my thumbs and wait for someone to die or run out of money so I can swing in and take the house.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“It’s true, I do work that way sometimes. But this time it’s different. This is all in the name of bettering our town of Sweet Bay.”

It was a lie and we both knew it. He didn’t care about Sweet Bay—all he cared about was the money a hot new development would put in his pocket. Inside, I was seething, but I couldn’t let him see it. I had to talk to Mags’s lawyer first.

“Are you finished?”

“Yes, I . . .” He cleared his throat. “I’m finished. Do you have anything to add?”

“Not a thing. I’ll have my lawyer contact you in the morning.”

With the door closed, I let out a shaky breath. I pressed the heels of my hands over my eyes, then grabbed my phone off the dining table and walked to the back porch to call Crawford. The night couldn’t have felt less like a victory if I’d walked off the end of the dock and fallen into the water.

“I’ll have to take a rain check for tonight,” I said when he answered.

“Why? What’s wrong?” I heard the concern in his voice. Mitch—or any of the men I’d dated in New Orleans—would have been on his phone the minute I bailed, looking for other friends to meet up with. Instead, Crawford gave me a chance to lighten the load Sammy had just dumped on my shoulders.

I took a deep breath. “What do you know about eminent domain?”

In the backyard, the sky was solid lilac, the sun long gone below the trees. The sun-warmed grass poked the bottoms of my bare feet. Without thinking, I did something I hadn’t done since I was a young girl. I stretched out on the grass on my back—toes pointed, arms stretched over my head—and stared up at the sky.

After my parents died, I often came out into Mags’s backyard just to lie down and think. As the stars popped out, I’d imagine they were holes, and my parents were up there peeking through the sky at me. I thought if I only stayed still long enough, I could catch all the love they dropped down.

As Crawford had told me on the phone, there was no reason to jump to conclusions. “Wait until you talk to Mr. Bains. See if Sammy’s plan even holds water, then we’ll figure it out, whatever it is.”

“But what about all your work on the house? The painters are coming tomorrow, and the electrician is coming back in the afternoon to—”

“Let me take care of the house. We can pause the work if necessary until we figure out what’s going on. Most of the heavy lifting has already been done. The rest can wait.”

I hoped it would just be a simple wait and not a permanent ending.

I rolled onto my side and looked up at the house. The lights inside gave the rooms a welcome glow. It sure didn’t look like the neglected relic it had been when I first arrived.

Was it possible Sammy could take it all away from me?

34

SARA

JULY

I walked into Mr. Bains’s office in Mobile the next day to find him swimming in paperwork. File folders and papers covered his desk and the floor surrounding it. His face, mottled and damp, showed the day had been a rough one. When he saw me in the doorway, he gestured to the paper-covered chair across from his desk.

“I wondered when I’d hear from you.”