Share the Moon Page 13

  Against the nearby wall, separate from the spectator seating, sat Duncan and his lawyer. Both men wore heavy gold Rolexes and dark suits of Brooks Brother quality. However, the attorney’s appeared two sizes larger than Duncan’s around the waistline. Compared to many of the board members, who wore simple sports jackets and button-down shirts, the outsiders dressed like kings.

  Duncan looked up from his reading and caught her watching. His expression melted into a smile so slight it could rival the Mona Lisa’s. An unexpected tide of affection rippled inside her chest.

  Lucy’s interruption at church hadn’t ended their time together two nights ago. Duncan had later joined Sophie at a table with Dave, Bernadette, and some other friends while they ate their potluck supper. Throughout the meal, he’d possessed the charismatic skills of a diplomat, including a smooth rapport and an “A” for listening to others. The outing proved to her Duncan had a real need for others to like him, especially women.

  His tactics worked, though. By the time the meal ended, Sophie found herself caught in a tangled web over him. One side snagged with desire, the other stuck on the harsh reality he’d taken land she wanted, and a third side leery of his real motives for being so charming to her. None of this inner turmoil stopped the imaginary battle raging inside her with Lucy Tanner for his attention. Knowing she’d see Duncan tonight, she’d dispensed with her church country-bumpkin apparel and selected slimming black slacks and a curve-accentuating top. Nobody would ever call Sophie a quitter.

  Anxiety blanketed the air. Buzz’s three cronies on the zoning board, who were rumored to support the resort project, sat huddled separate from the other two, the trio reminding Sophie of buzzards on a branch. Two of them held their usual scowl, but the frequent twitch of Joe Dougherty’s mouth seemed odd for a man who typically possessed the calm of a windless day. His carrot-orange hair must’ve recently undergone a fresh coloring, much brighter than last time she’d seen him.

  Only two zoning board members remained unattached to the strings of Buzz’s manipulation: a thirty-something newcomer to town—still considered new even after living in Northbridge ten years—and Adli, a reasonable man by any person’s standards. They could vote either way.

  The meeting started and she scanned the agenda. Under the last topic, new business, was the discussion of RGI’s environmental impact report.

  Good. Just as Adli had promised at Buzz’s office the other day.

  Fifteen minutes passed. The heat in the room, plus a salty dinner, left her as mouth dry as sandpaper. She shimmied down the row of filled chairs and slipped out into the hallway. Adli’s voice faded as she rounded the corner and made her way to the water fountain. She pressed the button and leaned over to take a sip.

  “Sophie?”

  The water stream gurgled as she turned to the voice. Marion Harris scurried toward her, hand clenched to the strap of her handbag and heavy furrowed lines on her forehead.

  She released the button and straightened up. “Hi, Marion. You okay?”

  “Danny told me you came by his office.” She never called Buzz by his nickname. “He said you had an article. One about…” She averted her gaze to the carpeted floor for a split second then continued with an uneasy tone, “About an incident at our home, many years ago.”

  The strange stare earlier gained clarity. “Yes, I did.”

  “Can you please drop it?” A watery glaze pooled above her lower lids, magnifying her pale pupils. “There’s nothing worth digging up.” A tear spilled down her cheek.

  “Don’t cry. Someone anonymously delivered the article to the Gazette offices. I’m only trying to figure out why, what it might mean.”

  “Well, it shouldn’t matter anymore.”

  “All right.” Sophie paused, but her iron-clad curiosity refused to let go. “I don’t need the details, but I have one question. Does this involve the Jamiesons?”

  Crimson blasted Marion’s face. “Can’t you leave well enough alone?”

  A sound made them both turn. Duncan stood at the end of the hallway and stared back.

  Marion’s fingers splayed across her parted lips. She gripped Sophie’s arm. “Please. No more questions about what happened. It’s personal. Just drop it!”

  Marion let go then hurried down the hallway, in the opposite direction from Duncan. She barged through the doors leading to the back parking lot. Sophie glanced at Duncan, whose eyebrows squished together while he watched Marion rush out the door. Sophie ran after her.

  Several minutes later, Sophie returned and found Duncan waiting for her in the hallway. She bombarded him with questions about Marion’s reaction to him. “Mommy 101” had taught her how to spot a lie or even an omission of facts and Duncan acted in textbook liar fashion while answering them.

  “I don’t understand. Do you or don’t you know Marion?”

  “Not really.” He averted his gaze to a display case of military uniforms to honor the town’s veterans.

  God, his reaction rivaled B-movie acting. “You either know someone or you don’t, Duncan.”

  “Buzz introduced me to her once.”

  She’d asked Marion the same question outside and got an equally vague answer. Why would a story about a mistaken gunshot in their house upset her this way?

  She turned and headed for the water fountain, unsure what to say next. He followed. Instinct hinted that a story lingered right out of reach. She leaned over and took a drink.

  Duncan stood at her side. “Is Marion upset about something?”

  She finished, wiped a spot of water from her chin, and stood up. “Well, as a matter of fact, yes.”

  “What?”

  “It’s personal. Why’d you come out here?”

  “To talk to you. Away from the crowd.” The muscles of his face relaxed, a return to the confident, warm man he’d been at the church.

  Sophie refused to allow his suaveness to lure her so easily and returned for another sip. In the background of the gurgling fountain, his voice rambled. She finished and stood upright. “What?”

  “I enjoyed seeing you on Sunday. Spending some time together.” Eagerness prevailed in his words, so unlike the manner he carried himself with when conducting business.

  “Yes, me too.” She meant it and wished he were anybody but the confusing, guarded man standing before her.

  “We keep running into each other.” His blue eyes danced with hers and his tone softened, a simple shift in his demeanor that wrapped around her heart and threatened any reason she possessed. “Ever since the kayaks, I keep thinking my return to Northbridge isn’t a coincidence.”

  A part of her didn’t either, but a voice way in the back of her head screamed a reminder of Ryan Malarkey and how she couldn’t let her reporting be swayed twice by a charming man.

  “Pssst.” Bart stuck his head around the corner and motioned for them to return.

  They slipped back in amongst the stares of many. Buzz watched her, his glare so frosty it sent a chill along the back of her neck.

  The discussion about RGI’s environmental study had started. Over the next half hour, Buzz’s cronies’ comments were political, ruthless, and lacking in consideration to problems that could be created by such significant changes to their lakefront.

  Joe Dougherty, however, sat quietly, staring at the tabletop, far less vocal than usual. He’d concurred with a remark or two but spent most of the time running his fingers through his carrot-colored hair and fiddling with the end of his mustache. Joe’s signature had been on the visitor log the day she interviewed Duncan. A thin thread, but a thread nonetheless. Who had he been there to see?

  When the board had discussed every strand of argument related to the pros and cons of a delay, Adli looked to his left. “Mr. Jamieson, do you care to address the board on this matter?”

  He stood and buttoned his jacket. “Thank you, Mr. Zimmerman.”

  “Many of you know I now live in town.” He scanned the audience t
hen hovered on Sophie. “It’s been pointed out to me how much the lake means to the people who’ve spent their lives enjoying these surroundings.”

  She tried to remain still, certain everyone else looked at her too.

  “My reasons for being here are not only about profit.” Duncan paced, certain and confident, the way a teacher commanded a classroom. “I want this done in a manner that best serves the community.” He stopped suddenly and faced the dais, his arms open to gather them into his next statement. “I would ask the board to take the extra time to carefully consider the results of this study. Don’t push through the requested zoning changes unless you are ab-so-lute-ly certain there will be no repercussions to this community. Please do what’s best to preserve the things people love about this town.”

  Bernadette’s group stood and clapped. Buzz’s expression dropped so quickly it nearly clunked on the tabletop.

  Adli quieted the room. “I’d like to make a motion to delay the zoning decision and revisit it at our January meeting after we’ve had a chance to review these additional studies further.”

  The youngest and newest member of the board seconded a vote on the motion. Adli called on him to vote first and he chirped a loud “yea” to delay a decision tonight. He received the loud approval of the S.O.L.E. attendees. The other two lifetime members of the Buzz fan club voted next, both with a predictable “nay.”

  Joe Dougherty, who’d been listening with a bent head toward the tabletop, was next. With two nay votes tossed in the bag, Sophie expected Joe to throw in the third, cinching the downfall of the motion, ensuring they had enough votes tonight to pass the new ordinance. Tate Farms would belong to RGI. Sophie’s breath stalled, her fate sealed by his vote.

  Joe looked up, licked his lips, then quietly said, “Yea.”

  The entire room let out a collective gasp followed by applause from the S.O.L.E. members. Buzz’s nostrils flared like an angry bull, one step away from pawing the ground and charging. Beneath the table, his leg jiggled.

  Sophie crossed her fingers. Two in favor of the motion and two against. Any delay meant she remained in the game. All attention centered on Adli, the deciding vote, whose face carried the trepidation of a man holding a lit bomb in his hands a moment before explosion.

  * * * *

  The next morning, Cliff came over to Sophie’s desk carrying the mug she’d given him five years ago at his 65th birthday party with the quote, “Caffeine isn’t a drug—it’s a vitamin.” He stopped at her side and lingered in her blind spot, like an annoying driver.

  “Hi.” Sophie’s fingers continued their march on the keyboard, pounding out the final paragraphs recapping last night’s zoning board meeting. “I came in early—super early—to get this story done. Not to give you something to do.”

  “Yeah, yeah. These Internet deadlines seem even more pressing than the print ones. An old guy like me doesn’t need this.”

  “Neither does a middle-aged gal like me, but deadlines are deadlines.” She stopped and looked at him. “Maybe you’ve had enough of them.”

  He frowned. “Just because you and my wife think I should retire doesn’t mean I’ll do it. I was born a newsman and plan to die one.”

  She’d heard him say this before and flipped through her notes until locating the quote she needed for the story. “Give me ten minutes or less to finish.”

  He shuffled off in the direction of the kitchen. “What would I do without you?”

  “You’d manage.”

  He disappeared through the doorway and she enjoyed the moment of feeling needed by her employer.

  Five minutes later, Sophie proofread the completed article. A teaser headline shouted, “Chairman Tips Scale on Lakefront Vote.” Bart had snapped a perfect photo for the story—one of Duncan and Attorney Smith watching Adli cast the tie-breaking ballot to delay a decision on lakefront laws until further review. Buzz sat next to Adli, his dropped jaw and bugged-out eyeballs looking like an advertisement for the word “shocked.”

  Afterward, the audience had gone wild. S.O.L.E. attendees had jumped from their seats, giving Adli a standing ovation. Buzz had narrowed his glare on Joe Dougherty, who’d uncomfortably stacked some papers, shoved back his chair, and huffed out of the conference room.

  Sophie’s after-meeting interview with Adli had provided his quote, “If this development is meant to happen, further scrutiny of the environmental report won’t stop it.”

  Her phone rang. “Blue Moon Gazette. Sophie speaking.”

  “It’s me. I’m at work.” Meg’s low tone had a mysterious quality, reminiscent of calls Sophie got during their elementary school sleuth days. “Only got a minute. Remember after exercise class when I said I’d ask Mr. Wilson if he recalled the Jamieson’s house sale?”

  “Uh-huh. Is he finally home from his daughter’s in New Hampshire?”

  “Yup. He stopped in unannounced first thing this morning. Parked himself at the reception desk until someone offered to take him to Sunny Side Up for a cup of coffee.”

  Cliff returned and she handed him the printed story.

  “So? Did he know anything?”

  “You bet your boots. Not only did he remember it, but when I mentioned the gunshot at Buzz’s house, his jaw plunked to his lap.”

  “Did he tell you anything?”

  “Come on. He lives for moments like this. He remembered when Duncan’s father contacted the real estate office to list the house. Everyone thought it was odd. I mean, the place had been in the Jamieson family for several generations. But get this.” She paused and lowered her voice. “Mr. Wilson remembered a rumor from the summer before. A rumor that involved their family.”

  “Which was…?”

  “At first, he wouldn’t tell me because he didn’t want to seem like a gossip.”

  Sophie snorted.

  “But I said he shouldn’t bait people that way and he reminded me of the boy who cried woof.”

  Meg’s enthusiasm for her story kept Sophie from pointing out that she meant the boy who cried wolf.

  “Well, my threat worked and he spilled the beans. The rumor a year earlier was that the gunshot at Buzz Harris’s house had to do with the Jamiesons. And, get this. A sizable donation made to the Northbridge police department kept the real details from ever being recorded in the stations records.”

  “A donation? From who?”

  “Are you sitting?”

  “Meg!”

  “I’ll take that as a yes. The donation came from Frank Jamieson, Duncan’s father.”

  Some small part of her, the part that craved Duncan, wanted his family to have a squeaky-clean slate. All her hope deflated.

  “Did Mr. Wilson say who took the first call and what really happened over there? I mean, wouldn’t the dispatcher know the truth?”

  “Good point. Problem is, Mr. Wilson got all close-lipped and didn’t utter another peep. Honestly, it’s old news. Why be so secretive?”

  Sophie grabbed a pad and scribbled some notes. Buzz’s nervous response to her questions and his wife’s disturbing reaction to Duncan in the hallway were consistent with Mr. Wilson’s gossip.

  “Great work, Meg. Guess you’ve uncovered another case of rich folks buying their way out of a problem.”

  “Well, they say money talks.”

  “No kidding. I’m wondering if the same family’s money that talked back then is talking again. Rumors always start for a reason.”

  Chapter 14

  Two young college-aged gals wearing light-up reindeer antlers swayed their hips on stage to an off-tune version of “Santa, Baby.” Gone were the days when Sophie attended karaoke night at Griswold’s and got on stage to perform with such fanfare, especially the week before Christmas, where a holiday theme ensured some unusual performances.

  Sophie and her small posse had all decided to wear red shirts and holiday-themed earnings tonight. Bernadette leaned across the rustic wood tabletop and her candy cane earrin
gs wobbled. “I wish Meg could’ve come. I’d buy her a drink for what she uncovered from Mr. Wilson. Can you confirm his story? I mean, he’s such a gossip.”

  Veronica lifted her wineglass toward her lips but stopped short of drinking. “Give the dude a bell and he’d be our town crier.”

  “You got that right.” Sophie glanced over her shoulder as their waitress dropped a platter of nachos in the center of the old pine table. As soon as she disappeared, Sophie leaned in. “Cliff’s going to ask some friends. See if anybody’s heard the same rumor.”

  Bernadette brushed aside her long bangs. “Does this change anything between you and your new special friend?”

  “What special friend?”

  “Really?” She tilted her head. “Look me straight in the eye and tell me Duncan didn’t come one step away from charming the pants off you Sunday at church. Probably only stopped because we were in a sacred religious structure.”

  “Wow, that statement bothers me on so many levels.”

  Veronica snagged a nacho. “That’s it. St. Mary’s has lost my patronage. I’m coming to your church.”

  Sophie chuckled but Bernadette’s stare demanded an answer. “Well?”

  “Yes, he charmed me. However, he gives me an equal number of reasons to keep my pants on. At the hearing, for example—” Determined footsteps clunked on the old wood floors of the hundred-year-old building and stopped her from telling Marion’s reaction to Duncan in the hallway at this past week’s meeting.

  Arch-rival Lucy’s BFF, Teresa Barnes, pranced within inches of their table, squeezed into tight black jeans and a bright red semi see-through blouse which picked up the crimson highlights in her auburn hair. Her perky nose held high, she breezed by their group in silence.

  “What a bitch.” Veronica’s “stage whisper” came out louder than expected and she covered her mouth. “She could say hello.”