Chapter Eighteen

And that is why the proposed structure being built by property owner Lacey Armstrong of Barefoot Bay should be added to the agenda of the next Mimosa Key zoning meeting.” Lacey took a deep breath and closed her eyes, so grateful to be done. “Thank you for your time, ladies and—ladies.”

Three sets of hands clapped loudly and vigorously from the audience lounging around Jocelyn’s suite at the Ritz-Carlton.

“You are going to rock, Lacey,” Zoe exclaimed.

“I hope so.” Lacey straightened the two presentation boards she’d picked up at Clay’s apartment that morning, trying not to think about how dead sexy he’d looked when he answered the door wearing nothing but boxers.

He’d worked all night on some preliminary drawings, focused exclusively on the main building. He’d gone to Fort Myers to get county permit information he thought they might need, so Lacey had decided to use the time before the meeting to rehearse for her friends.

“Aren’t you going to talk about the villa concept?” Tessa asked. “That’s what really sets this resort apart.”

“We want to hold back as much as we can and drop that bomb in the actual zoning meeting. The only thing that matters today is getting on the agenda. I think this is enough, don’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Jocelyn agreed. “But it will be bigger, won’t it?”

Lacey sighed, curling up on the sofa next to Tessa. “Right now, everything’s a pipe dream. First I have to close on the two properties next to mine, and then I have to figure out how much insurance money is left. I know Clay is ‘free’ at this point, but once we break ground, I am going to need some serious cash.” She let her head fall back. “It’s so daunting to even think about how to get that money.”

“Hey.” Tessa tapped her leg. “Don’t look at the obstacles. You’ll trip.”

Lacey smiled. “I’m trying.”

When none of them said anything for a second, Lacey opened her eyes just in time to catch some silent communication among the three of them.

“What?” she demanded.

Tessa and Jocelyn shared a long look, but Zoe blew out a breath. “Oh, for crying out loud, tell her now. Don’t wait until after the stupid meeting.”

“Tell me what?”

“No,” Jocelyn said. “I’m still ironing out some details.”

“But she should know,” Zoe insisted.

“It would help her during today’s presentation.”

Lacey sat up slowly. “What are you guys talking about?”

Three not-so-innocent faces stared back at her and finally, Jocelyn nodded to Tessa.

“We want to invest.”

Lacey blinked at her. “Invest?” For a moment Lacey could only stare. And work to keep her jaw from dropping. “You guys want to invest in Casa Blanca?”

“They do,” Zoe said, true sadness in her expression. “I can’t afford to give you anything but moral support.”

“But we can give you actual cash,” Jocelyn said. “And we want to. We really do.”

A whole new set of chills danced over her while her eyes filled with grateful tears. “You would do that for me? How can you do that?”

Tessa shrugged. “Billy and I weren’t running a nonprofit company to create organic farms, you know. And the divorce settlement was generous.” She leaned closer. “I want to do something extraordinary with that money and, Lacey, I believe in you. As long as we can make everything as organic as possible.”

Lacey nodded. “I can do organic.”

“And,” Tessa added, “gardens where you grow your own food. Or…” She dragged out the last word and added a meaningful look. “Where I grow your food.”

It took a second to sink in. “You grow it?”

“I want to stay and help you, Lacey.” Tessa put her hand on Lacey’s to underscore the message. “I want to stay here and create a completely natural, all-organic farm that feeds your resort.”

“Which means she leaves Arizona,” Zoe said glumly.

“And moves here.” The idea wrapped around Lacey’s heart so tightly it threatened to stop her pulse. Tessa here, with her. “Oh my God, Tess. That would be heaven.”

“You know I’m going to be a pain about pesticides and processed foods, don’t you?”

“I will swear off both of them,” Lacey promised.

“And if you want to open in a year, preliminary soil preparation should start, like, almost immediately. In a few months at the latest.”

The hope squeezed her chest, making her breathless. “Can you come to the meeting tonight? The organic gardens should be part of the plan we present. I think it would go a long way to showing exactly what kind of resort we’re building.”

“Of course I can.”

Lacey turned to Jocelyn. “And you want to invest, too?”

“Silently. I’m not growing anything or making grand appearances anywhere. But, yes.” She added her hand to Lacey’s and Tessa’s. “I’m working on getting you a cash infusion that should help you really get rolling on the building and gardens.”

Words just couldn’t form. Not adequate ones, anyway. “You are the most amazing friends.” Lacey’s voice broke.

“I just suck in general,” Zoe said. “I don’t have a dime and can’t leave my aunt Pasha.”

“Zoe, just you being here is more than enough,” Lacey said. “Will you all come with me this afternoon?”

Jocelyn’s smile faded. “Not me.”

“Just meet at the town hall,” Lacey said quickly. “Please.”

Finally, she nodded. “For you. To the town hall.”

“Oh my God!” Lacey shrieked softly. “I have partners!”

“Lots of them,” Zoe said. “Silent Jocelyn, organic Tessa, and don’t forget the man with the magic drafting tool.”

“That’s just the problem,” she confessed on a sigh. “I can’t forget him for one minute.”

“So when do we get details on last night?” Zoe asked.

“Let’s just put it this way: He liked your choice of underwear.” And, because they were her best friends and partners, she told them everything. Well, almost everything.

Word must have gotten out about the meeting. A few dozen people peppered the community meeting room in Mimosa Key’s town hall, with Charity and Patience seated in the front, surrounded by supporters. A handful of other familiar faces filled the front row of folding chairs, while others sat in small groups of two and three, and some people stood in the back at a coffee station.

The low buzz of conversation stopped when Lacey entered with Jocelyn, Tessa, and Zoe. Clay had texted that he’d meet them here but hadn’t arrived yet, making Lacey taut with nerves and a vague sense of disappointment.

She squashed any doubts. He’d be there.

“Where’s the one who tipped you off?” Zoe whispered.

Lacey glanced around but couldn’t find Gloria Vail. “Not here.”

“She’s probably swimming in the bottom of the bay.”

Lacey bit back a laugh. “They’re not that bad.” She hoped. Charity was sending some dagger-like looks Lacey’s way, and her sister, Patti, offered a cool, but less deadly, nod.

The long council table remained empty as no members were seated yet, so Lacey led her friends to some seats in the audience. She kept glancing at the door for Clay, but instead saw another man with a familiar face that had graced front pages of the Mimosa Gazette for much of Lacey’s teenage years.

Will Palmer had been the island’s golden boy, blazing through the minor leagues and on his way to the pros, last she’d heard. But in the past few years—

“Oh, shit.” Next to Lacey, Jocelyn murmured the curse as color drained from her face.

“What’s the matter?”

“My phone’s vibrating,” she said, stabbing her hand into her bag, lowering her head, hiding her face.

“Jocelyn?” Will approached slowly, but Jocelyn popped up to climb over Lacey to get out of the row.

“I have to take this call.”

“Jocelyn,” Will called. “Please, wait.”

She froze, giving Lacey a pleading look. Then she suddenly composed herself and faced him.

“Hello.” She reached out a hand. “How are you, Will?”

His eyes flickered with surprise. “Fine. And you?”

“Great. Oh”—she wiggled the phone—“’scuze me for a second.” She walked out, leaving him slightly slack-jawed.

“Hi,” Lacey said, trying to cover the awkward moment, looking up at the sizable athlete. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Lacey Armstrong.”

“Hello.” He shook her hand, but his attention was still on Jocelyn, giving Lacey a chance to take in how time had changed him. He wasn’t as boyishly cute as he had been in his baseball heyday, but he was still seriously tall, dark, and handsome.

“I didn’t know you were back in Mimosa Key,” she said. “Are you visiting or are you here for good?”

“I’m back,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I’m picking up some work with all the construction going on. That’s why I came by today.”

Construction? That was a huge step down from major league baseball. “What kind of work? I’ll hopefully be looking for some people.”

“I’ve been sort of specializing in carpentry and woodwork, but, really I can do anything. Stucco, drywall, you name it.”

“I’ll remember that,” she said as the council began to take their seats.

Once again Lacey turned to the door, willing Clay to show. Where was he? He’d texted a few hours ago that he was still in Fort Myers but he’d be here on time.

“Where did Jocelyn go?” Tessa asked when she and Zoe came back from a stop in the ladies’ room, sliding in right behind Lacey. “She just blew by us in a big fat hurry.”

“She’s taking a call,” Lacey told them.

The slam of Mayor Sam Lennox’s gavel silenced the conversation. Lacey once again checked the door for Clay, flinching a little when David entered instead, with Ashley close to his side.

Wouldn’t there be enough tension without David looking judgmental and Ashley frowning in disapproval at Clay?

If Clay ever got there.

Ashley spotted her and waved, but David guided them to seats across the aisle with a wink to Lacey. “Go get ’em, Tiger,” he mouthed.

“Good luck, Mommy,” Ashley added. “I love you.”

Oh. Her heart turned upside down, tumbled, and landed somewhere in her shoes. Because at the end of the day, Ashley was the one who mattered the most. And, honestly, when was the last time her daughter had said I love you?

Was that David’s influence?

“Where the hell is Clay?” Tessa asked.

“Good question.” Lacey tried to focus, but her mind was whirring. If she had to do this alone, would she?

If Clay didn’t show, then she had a good reason—

“Call to order an emergency meeting of the Mimosa Key Town Council!” The gavel slammed a second time, and Lacey scanned the front table for a friendly face.

The mayor was a longtime resident of the island, possibly opposed to changing zoning laws. A political beast who loved the role of heading the town council, he could totally be corrupted by Charity but swayed by re-election votes. Nora Alvarez was on Charity’s payroll, but something about her seemed fair and smart. Plus, wouldn’t she want to expand her cleaning business to do work for Lacey, too?

“Who’s the escapee from The Sopranos?” Zoe leaned forward to ask in Lacey’s ear.

“New guy from New York,” Lacey whispered back. “Rocco something.”

“Friend or foe?”

“Don’t know.”

“And the bald eagle?”

Lacey eyed George Masterson and remembered how he’d jumped to help Charity last night. “I think he’s in bed with Charity.”

“Ewww. Thanks for that lovely visual that will never leave my brain.”

Lacey shushed her as the mayor covered some housekeeping details. When given the floor, George Masterson moved to set the agenda for the September fifteenth meeting, calling to the floor anyone who wanted to present at that time.

Lacey swallowed and gave one last look toward the door, her heart sinking. If no one asked a question that only an architect could answer, she could do this. But she wanted him there. The fact that he wasn’t just hurt.

“Hey.” Tessa touched her shoulder. “Stop looking for reasons not to get up there.”

“I’m not,” Lacey whispered. “I just…”

Scanning the room, her gaze fell on Ashley, who gave her a wide, warm smile, her eyes filled with admiration and expectation.

She might have reasons to chicken out, but right there sat the reason to walk up to that council and make her demands. She had to show Ashley how to be strong and independent, had to show her daughter how to get what you want in life, even if your partner lets you down. Especially if your partner lets you down.

Slowly rising to her feet, she felt Tessa give her a nudge and heard Zoe whisper, “Knock ’em dead, Lace.”

She stepped into the aisle along with a few other people petitioning for something they wanted but might not get. Change was never easy in Mimosa Key, and the knowledge of that was plain to see on her neighbors’ faces.

“Let’s do this alphabetically,” Mayor Lennox suggested. “That’d make you first, Lacey.”

“All right,” she agreed brightly, carrying the two presentation boards to the podium while the other speakers sat in the second row. Unzipping the case with remarkably steady fingers, she set her typed-up comments in front of her and pulled the first board, Clay’s blue-line of the site overview.

They needed only a verbal description according to the bylaws, but she and Clay both felt that this would be more powerful and sway any council members sitting on the fence.

She and Clay. Except now it was just her.

“Good afternoon,” she said, her voice echoing and causing a siren-like feedback on the mike. She backed away and refused to let it throw her. “My name is Lacey Armstrong and I’m here to request a slot on the—”

“I object.” Charity stood and stared hard at the mayor. “Save our time, Sam, and let’s move to the next person.”

A soft murmur rolled through the crowd.

“Excuse me, Charity,” Lacey said, “but I haven’t even had a chance to show you what I’m building.”

“Don’t have to. I’m not objecting to your building.”

“Then what are you objecting to?” Sam Lennox asked.

“Who’s building it.”

“What are you talking about?” Lacey asked. “How do you even know who’s building it?”

“Because everyone on this island knows you’re working, among other things, with that man named Clayton Walker.”

“Clay Walker,” she corrected, feeling heat rise and wishing to God that Ashley wasn’t in this room. “And I fail to see how that has any relevance.” His name wasn’t even on this presentation. He’d insisted on that.

And he wasn’t even in this room.

For the first time, a vine of bad, bad feeling slithered up her chest.

“Me too,” Paula Reddick chimed in from the front table. “I, for one, would like to see the plans, so zip it, Charity.”

The older woman’s eyes flew open. “I will not zip it and I will not allow anything to be built on this island by someone who is not qualified to build.”

Oh, that’s what this was about. His licensing. The tendril of worry loosened as she checked the door again, but no one had entered the room, not even Jocelyn.

She had to do this on her own, straightforward and unafraid.

“Charity, if you’re referring to Mr. Walker’s licenses, they are not required by any law in any state in order for him to design—”

“I’m talking about his… his…” She gestured to Patti, who shoved some papers closer. Then Charity adjusted her reading glasses and cleared her throat. “His indictment by the FBI for providing fraudulent documents and attempting to obstruct justice in a case against a North Carolina chancellor of secondary education.”

Lacey gripped the podium, because her legs couldn’t be trusted to hold her upright.

“What?” She barely whispered the question because there were too many other words swimming in her head. Indictment. FBI. Fraudulent. Obstruct justice.

“What exactly are you talking about?” Sam demanded. “What do you have on this Clayton Walker?”

“Clay,” Lacey said softly. “His name is Clay.” Or at least she thought it was. Come to think of it, she’d never seen a driver’s license, let alone an architectural license. She’d never called a reference or seen a resume.

All she’d done was let him melt her brain and body and hand him the job. And now he wasn’t even here to face the music. And the tune was pretty ugly.

“I’m talking about this.” Gripping pages of computer printouts, Charity marched to the front, her sneakers squeaking on the linoleum like Nurse Ratched on her way to stick a needle in someone.

The audience murmured and mumbled, and Lacey stole a look at David, who whispered something to Ashley, then he got up and hustled out of the room. Shame and shock prickled at Lacey’s skin, a fine sheen of perspiration tickling the nape of her neck.

Toward the back, Tessa and Zoe held hands, leaning forward like they’d been driven to the edge of their seats. Grace Hartgrave looked smug, and a lot of familiar faces of neighbors, friends, and even some of her baking customers looked confused.

And Clay Walker, or whoever the hell he claimed to be, was suspiciously absent.

Meanwhile, Charity slapped her papers in front of the town council, a copy for each of them, with the officiousness of a teacher handing out failed tests. “I just printed these off today, from the state attorney’s office in North Carolina.” She turned to Lacey. “Of course, maybe you were too blinded by his good looks to do any of your own homework.”

Was that possible? She had Googled him. There was plenty about his father, but no mention of Clay, or the FBI. Her heart slipped down a few notches, like her wet palms on the warm wood of the podium.

Sam rifled through the papers. “Have you seen this, Lacey? Says here Clayton Walker of Clayton Walker Architecture and Design has been indicted—”

“It’s his father!” The explanation suddenly seemed so clear she practically barked it into the microphone, shutting up Sam and the audience. “They must be talking about his father, Clayton Walker,” she added quickly. “It’s a common mistake because of the names and the similar work, but they are two very different men and my architect no longer works for Clayton Walker. Those papers, whatever you have, are not about the same man who’s been helping me.”

“Actually, they are.” Clay’s voice came from the back of the room, the door he’d just burst through still open. “Those articles are about me.”