The Hideaway

I sat down, desperate for him to tell me Sammy had it all wrong.

“My buddy over at the courthouse called me late yesterday and told me the news,” he said before I could speak. “He knew I’d been Mrs. Van Buren’s lawyer and thought I’d want to know. It’s harsh, but this type of thing does happen. Granted, usually it’s to make way for a road expansion or railroad tracks, not something as trivial as condos and a boardwalk. But Sammy has the mayor’s ear on this one. When he started chirping about tax dollars coming into the county and how that could change the face of Sweet Bay, the mayor turned to mush.”

“So he can do this? It’s really going to happen?”

“Looks that way. Unless of course . . .”

“Unless what?”

Mr. Bains sat back in his chair and clicked the end of his pen. “You can try to challenge Sammy’s right to take the property. We can go to trial, show them that The Hideaway can be more than just a home for five—now four—people that doesn’t do much for the town.”

“Would it do any good?”

He shook his head. “I doubt it. It sounds like Sammy’s nailed down all the loose ends. He’s acting on the mayor’s behalf, so it’s legal for him to do it. His plan is to use the property for the good of the public, which always sounds good to a judge.”

“Is making Sweet Bay a tourist destination a good thing for the public? Is that what the people want?” I couldn’t imagine Sweet Bay becoming glitzy and high class any more than I could imagine Mr. Bains sprouting horns on his head.

He shrugged. “People in small towns like to talk about keeping things the way they’ve always been, but when you start talking about what the influx of money could mean—better schools and parks, a beefed-up police department, things like that—you’d be surprised how quickly some people can give up that idea of smalltown charm.

“Now if you’re up to it,” he continued, “you could try to convince them that the work you’re doing on the house could better the town in similar ways—attracting vacationers from around the South or what have you. That doesn’t have quite the same punch as multiunit condos and high-end boutiques, but it’s something, and it would appeal to the residents who will stand against anything Sammy tries to do just on principle alone. I must say, though, I was under the impression at the will reading that you were less than thrilled at being named the beneficiary of that place. I would think this might be a good thing for you—Sammy coming in and giving you a reason to let the house go.”

“I wasn’t thrilled at first, but . . . things are a little different now.”

He nodded. “I can see that.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Despite how I felt about the house now, was this a sign that Mags’s death—and Sammy’s timely plan for the area—was supposed to usher in the closing of The Hideaway?

“Could anything make Sammy change his mind?”

“It would have to be out of the goodness of his heart. And Sara—I’m not sure there’s much good in there. I wish I had something different to tell you. I’d advise you to begin making your exit plans.”

On the drive back to Sweet Bay, my phone buzzed in my purse. I pulled it out with one hand and saw Crawford’s name. Blood pumped in my ears as I pressed End and dropped the phone on the passenger seat.

Don’t push him away now, Sara.

But I didn’t know what else to do. It felt like The Hideaway was slipping through my fingers, the path in front of me leading back to my real life.

At the house, so many trucks filled the driveway that I almost missed the motorcycle parked to the side under the oak. Two men with Sears stamped on the backs of their sweat-stained shirts struggled to fit the new stainless-steel refrigerator through the front doorway. They’d taken the door off the hinges, but it still wouldn’t fit. I avoided the commotion and walked around the side of the house.

I found Allyn reclining in a wooden Adirondack chair on the dock, a drink in his hand, his black boots and socks in a pile next to him. He’d propped his pale, skinny feet up on the railing. Glory sat next to him, laughing.

Allyn turned when the boards on the dock squeaked under my feet.

“Remind me why you ever left this place. It’s so relaxing. I think I might move in. If that’s okay with you, of course,” he said to Glory.

“Of course it is. You can stay as long as you like.” She patted his hand.

I tried to smile, but my throat was tight.

“Oh dear,” Glory said, noticing.

Allyn stood to get a better look at me, and I hugged him hard. “I’m so glad you’re here,” I whispered.

He took a step back, then tightened his arms around me. “Whoa, what’s wrong with you?”

I let him go and wiped the corner of my eye. “Nothing, I’m fine. I’m just happy to see you. What are you doing here?”

“At the moment, Glory and I are getting acquainted. She told me a fascinating story about cutting Dolly Parton’s hair back in Georgia.”

Glory held her hands up. “I’ll let you two kids talk. Let me know if you need anything, Allyn. I’ll be right inside.”

She walked back to the house and held the screen door so it wouldn’t slam behind her. I turned back to Allyn. “I can’t believe you. You’ve already got her eating out of your hand.”

“It’s the hairdressing bond. We’re two of a kind.” He sat back down in his chair and picked up his glass. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“You tell me what’s going on. If you’re here, who’s manning my shop? You didn’t just close up, did you?”

“I wouldn’t do that to you. Don’t worry, it’s all taken care of. Rick was more than happy to hold the fort down until I get back tomorrow. Now, spill it. You’re not a hugger, so something’s up. Plus, you’re about to cry and you don’t do that either.”

I sighed and sat down in Glory’s chair.

“I just left the lawyer’s office. It appears the VIPs of Sweet Bay feel that some fancy condominiums and a shiny new boardwalk would serve the people of Baldwin County better than The Hideaway. So much better that they actually want to take the land and the house from me.”

“VIPs of Sweet Bay?” He shook his head. “Who are they and how can they make that kind of decision?”

“It’s called eminent domain. The government—in this case, acting under the urging of a land developer—can take this property, no questions asked, and turn it into something else ‘for the good of the public.’”

Allyn waved his hand around until I stopped talking. “Way over my head. I’ll ask Jaxon about it.”

“Jaxon? Who’s that?”

“He’s a new friend.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“He’s a lawyer. Very smart. Maybe he can help.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose with my fingers. “Unfortunately, I think it’s a slam dunk for the developer. Legally, he can do this, although ethically, it’s pretty dirty. Plus, Mr. Bains has already looked into it. I don’t need another lawyer. What I need is something to make this guy go away.”

“He’s actually taking the house from you? And what—tearing it down?”

I nodded.