putting an offer in on it yet.”
Rose harrumphed. She pointed a finger at Roy Gleeson. “Paid you off, has he?”
Roy stiffened. “That’s an insulting accusation. I’m acting strictly in the best interests of the people of North Augusta. It is not in anyone’s interest if this property continues to remain an eyesore. Not to mention dangerous.”
I couldn’t help but glance at one of the gutters, swinging cheerfully in the breeze. “It doesn’t have to be rezoned to be sold. Perhaps someone would like to buy it as it is. They could fix it up to be a nice house again.”
“Are you interested in purchasing it, miss?” the third man asked.
“Me? No. I don’t want anything that big, and I couldn’t afford it even if I did.”
“Which is exactly my problem,” he said. “No one wants a house that big, certainly not one that needs work before it can be inhabitable. I’m Lincoln Goodwill. This is my property. Your grandmother is trespassing, and I have asked her to leave.”
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Rose said. “Selling off your family’s land to a common hotel chain. What would your ancestors have to say about that?”
Lincoln turned around. He studied the house, slowly crumbling into the sandy soil, the gardens, nothing but tough weeds, wild beach grasses, and stunted bushes. “I doubt my ancestors would like to see it drop off the cliff.”
“If the property’s developed to its full potential,” Jack Ford said, “the benefits to the entire community will be enormous. That includes your B & B and charming little teahouse.”
Patronizing twit, indeed.
“This is a delicate stretch of oceanfront environment,” Rose said. “The cliffs are fragile. Birds nest there and in the trees surrounding.”
“The town will take all of that into consideration when . . . I mean if . . . we decide to rezone,” Roy said.
“You’ve obviously already made up your mind,” Rose said.
“Nothing to decide,” he said. “The rezoning is in everyone’s interest. Almost everyone.”
“If you’ll excuse us. I’m a busy man.” Jack turned to the others. “Let’s have a closer look at these cliffs. We’ll need to take their fragility into account.”
“I’m thinking the clubhouse could go there,” Lincoln said. “Nice view out to sea.”
“Clubhouse!” Rose yelled.
Jack lost his patience, and the fake neighborly smile was instantly replaced by something very nasty indeed. “Mrs. Campbell, your opposition to this project is indefensible. You can’t expect to live in solitary splendor the remainder of your days.”
“I see no reason why not,” Rose replied.
“Your neighboring landowner disagrees.”
Rose waved her cane in the developer’s face. “This project will go ahead over my dead body.”
“Don’t tempt us,” Lincoln muttered. Jack laughed.
“Watch it,” I said.
Startled by my tone, Éclair lifted her head and barked. Lincoln had the grace to flush and duck his head.
“Come on, gentlemen,” Roy said. “We can’t stand around chatting all day. We’ve all got work to get back to.”
“I suggest you don’t make idle threats, Mrs. Campbell,” Jack said. “That cane can be turned into a weapon.”
“I assure you,” Rose replied, “I never make idle threats. If not my dead body, perhaps someone else’s.”
I touched her arm. “This has gone far enough, Rose. Let’s go back to the house.”
“I’m not moving.” She planted her cane and her feet firmly among the long grasses and the weeds.
“You’re trespassing,” Jack said. “If you don’t leave, Mr. Goodwill is within his rights to call the police and have you removed.”
“I don’t want any trouble,” Lincoln Goodwill mumbled.
“Whether you want trouble or not, you’ve got it,” Rose said. “Trouble and more, if you go ahead with this project.”
“The project isn’t up to me,” he said. “I don’t care what anyone does with the property once they own it. All I want is to sell this eyesore my father saddled me with. No one in our family has come here for years, but my father had sentimental reasons for keeping it. And so he kept paying the property taxes on it. I don’t want it, and I can’t afford to repair it. Mr. Ford here”—he nodded toward the big man—“is considering buying it as it is. A win-win. The entire community will benefit—”
“It is not a win-win for me,” Rose said. “I will not benefit.”
“Please, Rose. This isn’t doing anyone any good.” I took her free arm and tucked it into mine. “Let’s go home. Maybe you can start making some phone calls. Ask the neighbors for their support at town council.”
“Neighbors. That’s the entire point. I don’t have any neighbors. And I don’t want any. Much less a golf course! If I find one golf ball on my property, or a single spare nail, I’m calling the police.”
She wrenched her arm out of mine, spun on her heel, and marched away, shouting over her shoulder, “Mark my words! You haven’t heard the last of this! I will stop this project. One way or another.”
I called to Éclair and started after Rose.
“I don’t want any trouble,” Lincoln repeated to his companions.
“Don’t worry about that one,” Jack said. “She’s nuttier than an English fruitcake. And she’ll crumble like one.”
I decided it would be best not to mention that English fruitcake does not traditionally contain nuts. Or that my grandmother never crumbled in the face of opposition.
Chapter 4
I made the mistake of trying to argue with Rose. “The property is a shambles. The house looks like the set of Night of the Living Dead. Is a conference hotel and golf course really going to be so bad?”
She glared at me. “I came to Cape Cod in search of peace and quiet for my declining years. I am not going to have dump trucks and jackhammers breaking the silence at all hours of the day and night, and then corrupt politicians and crooked businessmen in ghastly pastel trousers and checked shirts yelling, ‘Fore,’ and knocking my planters over with their golf balls. I will stop this development, Lily.”
“Plenty of nice people golf, you know.”
“I am making a point, Lily.”
“So am I. If you want peace and quiet in your declining years, as you call
