exactly what Cam-Field’s strategy is in handing it out so freely. By issuing this report, Cam-Field is trying to make people think that they have some control over the situation. It’s an illusion created by you, by Cam-Field, to pull the wool over our collective eyes. You will say and promise anything necessary until the town council passes your resolution and then you will do whatever you want—including destroying the environment and this town along with it.”
Emily plastered on a benign smile and said calmly, “Come on, Mr. James, don’t you think you may be overreacting a bit here? Cam-Field only wants what’s best for the citizens of Rankins. And we—”
Bering interrupted with a snort of disbelief. “No. And I mean no to both of those ridiculous statements. What Cam-Field wants is what is best for Cam-Field—money. You may be able to bamboozle a few ignorant fools and some desperate souls around here with the sheer abundance of dollar signs in that report, but just so we’re clear here, Ms. Hollings, it’s my mission to get the facts across to the good people of this community. And by the time I’m through, you—and the rest of your Cam-Field crew—will be nothing but an unpleasant memory that we’ll all shake our heads and share a chuckle over.”
Emily had heard similar arguments before and she automatically opened her mouth to deny the accusation. But for some reason, this time the words wouldn’t come; she knew that what he said was largely the truth.
Cam-Field’s operating strategy was, essentially, just as Mr. James said: to get the community on board for their development projects with help from a carefully executed marketing plan. They would send in a “landing party,” in this case her and Amanda, to feel out the local opinion and ingratiate themselves into the community. Their usual procedure included holding and attending public meetings, issuing informational brochures and reports about the exciting improvements Cam-Field would bring to the community, outlining exciting job opportunities, and quoting generous estimates of the amount of money that would be poured into the economy. If things proceeded well, the communities would be nearly begging for Cam-Field to come in and “save” them. If not, as appeared to be the case here in Rankins, it took a bit more convincing. And while the economic projections were essentially accurate, it was true that after Cam-Field was through, Rankins as it currently existed would cease to exist.
Emily raised her brows in a maneuver that she’d perfected during her long tenure with Cam-Field. The gesture was intended to express concern and convey empathy—and innocence. “I’m not sure what you’re suggesting exactly, um, Mr. James?” she said, but she was having a hard time keeping her thoughts focused. “And please, call me Emily.”
Bering rolled his eyes. “I’m not suggesting anything, Ms. Hollings,” he replied, pointedly ignoring her attempt at informality. “I’m stating it outright. Cam-Field has skewed that report, emphasizing the positives and completely and purposefully understating the negatives. But you’re in for a big surprise here because you’re going to find that Rankins is different than other places. Money doesn’t mean so much here, Ms. Hollings. Not like it does to you city slickers anyway. Here it means a roof over our heads, food on the table and coats on the backs of our children. You know, not everyone who lives here does so because they don’t have any other option. We have a quality to our life that is unmatched anywhere in the nation—probably the world, for that matter, certainly as far as most of us are concerned—and which I’m sure that you and your Cam-Field cronies know nothing about. We’re more than just a community—we’re a family. We choose to live here, and I will not sit idly by and watch while Cam-Field Oil & Mineral destroys what we, and our friends and family before us, have built over the last one-hundred-and-some-odd years. So you’d better come to your little town-hall meeting with a whole lot more than what you’ve got in that report because...”
Emily tapped a finger to her chin and tried desperately to concentrate on his words. But her head felt as light as the cottonwood down that used to blow from the trees and float through the streets of her childhood home. She almost grinned as she pictured it in her mind, her head floating up, up, up and away like an errant helium balloon. She resisted the urge to reach up and pat it to make sure it was still securely anchored to her neck; she entwined her twitchy fingers tightly on the desk in front of her.
She forced her eyes to focus on something, and for some reason they landed upon the deep cleft in his chin, which was slightly off-kilter, she noticed, and yet not...unattractive. It was a physical trait that she’d always found appealing in men...
Emily felt the fog closing in around her again, stealing her attention, until finally it seemed as if she had come loose from her moorings and really was floating. She looked down and saw a smartly dressed, albeit rather rumpled and inattentive, corporate executive being lectured by a burly outdoorsman who didn’t seem to adhere to the popular rule of watching his tone in front of women. In her experience, country boys were usually rather careful when speaking to the opposite sex, but Mr. James was now delivering his speech with ever-increasing volume, although like a gentleman he’d yet to throw in any profanity. She should share her moose nuggets with him, she thought, and fought the urge to giggle again—wait, maybe she was giggling a little bit. She definitely needed to stop that. She did her best to compose herself; she pressed her lips together and sat up straighter in her chair. But now her head felt really heavy, so she rested her chin on her intertwined fingers.
He certainly was eloquent; she was sure of that even if she wasn’t quite getting the gist of what he was saying. And he really wasn’t bad-looking, either. In fact, he was quite good-looking, she thought, or he could be—with a shave, a haircut and a change of clothes. A nice Italian suit or maybe even some pressed silk trousers—anything but this denim and flannel that these people seemed to think was fashionable for absolutely any occasion...
“Would you agree with that assessment, Ms. Hollings?”
Silence ensued as Emily found sharp eyes piercing hers. She almost flinched, or maybe she did flinch.
“Um, what?” She’d missed the “assessment” completely, but it wasn’t her fault, really; it was getting impossible to think in this...this sauna. She grabbed another tissue and flattened it against her brow. She pulled it away and stared down at it. Strange, she thought, that it didn’t appear to be damp with sweat. How could that be when she was so hot? She dabbed it on her forehead and looked at it again. She patted it with her other hand—dry. Huh. Weird.
* * *
“THIS IS RIDICULOUS,” Bering said crossly. He stood to leave and then added, “I can see that I’m wasting my time here.”
And he was perturbed. The woman was clearly and deliberately tuning him out. And now she was just sitting there spacing out. He’d known when he’d been out in the waiting room that it was probably going to be a waste of time, but he’d also known it was a necessary first step to meet with Cam-Field’s representative. And he had to admit that he’d been hoping he could have a reasonable conversation with this Emily Hollings because he knew exactly what Cam-Field was going to do to this community—his community— if they won approval for their proposed “oil extraction and development project.” And he knew the long-term dangers such development would bring with it.
He had been a young boy when the worst oil spill to ever hit Alaska’s coast had occurred. His dad, uncle and several other family members had dedicated months of their lives assisting in the cleanup. Bering had grown up hearing the stories about the devastation and the impact it had had on Alaska’s coastline, marine animals and the state’s fisheries. An environmental disaster of that nature would have a similar impact on his business, not to mention his quality of life and the lives of the entire community.
As a result, it had become an important part of his life’s work to prevent that sort of destruction from happening again anywhere in Alaska, and especially right here in his hometown.
