[Dalyia]

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
NOAH ROLLED HIS GRANDMOTHER’Sold lawn mower into the storage shed and wiped the
sweat from his brow. Weeks had passed since the first time he’d trimmed the bushes and weeded the
gardens, so the whole yard had needed a cleanup.
He turned around, taking a long swig from a water bottle and stopped short. His dad, dressed casually
in shorts, T-shirt and baseball cap, was walking toward Noah, carrying something bulky. When he got to
the yard, he bent over and took a long breath.
Though Noah was still royally pissed, the man was his own flesh and blood. “You all right?” Noah
asked, probably a bit more gruffly than he’d intended. He recapped the water bottle and tossed it onto
the porch for a later pickup.
“When I was a kid, I could run up that hill ten times without stopping. Getting old, I guess.” He held out
a long box. “I got something for you.”
Noah didn’t move.
“It’s not from me.”
“What is it?”
“Open it.”
Noah flipped open the box. Two pairs of old snowshoes lay inside. The sight of the leather bindings,
worn and tattered, drilled a hole in his heart that old memories quickly rushed to fill.
“Isaac wanted you to have those,” his dad said. “It was in his will.” His dad moved into the shade of a
large ash tree, took off his hat and brushed back his thinning gray hair. “I think if he’d known he was
going to die before seeing you again, he’d have had a few things to say.”
Noah looked away.
“He tried to do what was right with Sophie, and he never wanted to hurt you. He loved you. He was
proud of you. He missed you.”
Emotion clogged the words in Noah’s throat. Why did his brother have to go and get in the way of that
bullet? So much violence in this world.
“He would’ve wanted you and me to talk. To settle things between us.”
Noah closed the box and set it on the porch. “I said everything I needed to say back in your office. I’ve
got nothing left.”
“Oh, yes, you do. I know that look on your face.” His dad leaned against the tree and fanned himself
with his hat. “When’s the last time you went fishing?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Well, I ain’t getting any younger.” His dad put his hat back on his head. “It’s time, don’t you think?”
“All right. You asked for it.”
For as far back as Noah could remember, his dad had docked a boat in the marina. This recent one was
bigger than any of the earlier ones and set up for deepwater charter fishing excursions. Well-stocked with
food, beverages, first aid and with a head and sleeping quarters below, Jim could easily spend a week or
two out on Lake Superior without docking.
While Noah had been growing up, if his dad wasn’t at work, he was out on the water. And as far as
Noah was concerned, there’d been nothing more fun than fishing with his dad, until he’d turned thirteen
and had noticed Sophie growing into a young woman. By the time fifteen rolled around, Jim couldn’t pay
Noah enough to get him out on the water. Funny how things had a way of going full circle. Today, Noah
was actually looking forward to seeing if he could catch one of those big Lake Superior salmon.
It didn’t take long before they were cruising on the open water. They hadn’t gone far when Jim cut the
engine and prepped his downriggers for trolling.
“Want something to drink?” Noah headed below deck.
“Grab me a beer.”
He rejoined his dad topside and handed him a frosty can. “How’s fishing been?”
“Terrible. If you know where to go, it’s not too bad. This lake’s overharvested, and I told Isaac that on
more than one occasion.”
At the mention of Isaac again, they both grew quiet.
“Did he like being a game warden?”
“Loved it. Almost as much as he loved being a dad.”
That topic still felt a bit too raw. Noah glanced around. He could see the faint outline of Mirabelle’s
shore. “You’re not catching anything this close in, are you?”
“We’re just messing around. You want to catch some real fish we’ll need the whole day.”
Noah took a swig of ice-cold beer as he watched his dad work. The man had always been methodical
and efficient in everything, including this hobby. Today, though, he seemed troubled. It took him longer
than normal to find the right tackle and he was moving slowly. “You feeling okay?”
“I must be catching something. Headache. Stomach’s upset.” He wasn’t even smoking his pipe.
“Why are we out here then?”
“Can’t pass up a day like today.”
The sun was bright and the water was about as smooth as a big expanse like Lake Superior ever got.
“Sit down. Let me do it.”
“Hah.” Jim stepped back. “You remember after all these years?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
Jim sat in the shade under cover of the boat’s canopy and sipped on his beer. “How’s your leg doing?”
“Better.”
“You sleeping and eating?”
“Yeah, actually. I feel pretty good these days.”
“Good.”
“You going to tell me it’s time to leave the island?”
“No, son. I want to tell you I’m sorry.”
Noah glanced up.
“You and Sophie are right. I’ve wronged you—and her—in more ways than I can count.”
Andher? What had he done to Sophie?
“Your brother was a good man—”
“That’s what I keep hearing.”
“He was stable. Loved Mirabelle. Loved those kids. And he loved Sophie.”
“Not as much as I did.”
“I’m realizing that now.” Jim nodded. “I thought what you and Sophie had was puppy love, Noah. That
it’d pass once you were gone. For both of you. Isaac wanted to stay on Mirabelle and he wanted a
family, but I didn’t want to see him go through what I went through with your mother.
“The couple of other single women the right age on Mirabelle weren’t well-suited to Isaac. God help me,
I not only steered him toward Sophie I made him see that she’d be the perfect wife. And when he
insisted Sophie belonged to you, I convinced him that Sophie belonged to herself. She could make her
own choice.”
Noah couldn’t look at his father.
So many years. Gone.
“I was wrong, Noah. Can you forgive me?”
“For that I can,” Noah whispered. “What happened between me and Sophie wasn’t your fault. It was
mine. For leaving.” He paused and turned around. “But why didn’t you tell me about the kids right
away?”
His dad looked wary. “That’s a little harder to explain.”
“That’s what you brought me out here for, isn’t it?”
His dad nodded. “It has to do with your mother leaving.”
“Mom? How?”
“She hated Mirabelle. Couldn’t stand being on an island.”
“So she left.”
“That’s the easy answer. There’s more to it than that.”
“Did I do something to make her go away? Is that why you were angry with me after she left?”
“No, son. You and I…We’re just different.”
“Did you do something to make her go away?”
His dad shook his head. “You blamed me, though, didn’t you, for her leaving?”
“I suppose in a way,” Noah said.
“Wasn’t very long after she left that you and I started fighting, left and right. Remember?”
“I remember you were always angry.”
“I was angry with everyone after she left.” His dad took a deep breath. “But you’re right, Noah. Every
time I look at you, I see your mother. It’s in your eyes, in the way you talk, in the way you live your life.
You’re a lot like her.”
“But you loved her, married her, brought her here with you.”
“I did. I loved her very much.” He focused on the deck. “That first winter was hard. She was lonely. We
didn’t have e-mail and cell phones back then, making it difficult for her to keep in touch with her family.
She asked for us to move back to San Diego. I wouldn’t go.
“Once she had you and Isaac, things got better for a while. Then you were both in school and things
went downhill real fast. She started saying that if she stayed on the island, she was going to shrivel up and
die.”
Noah understood the feeling.
“Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore and asked for a divorce. She wanted you and Isaac to spend the
school years with her in California, the summers with me. No way, I said. Then she asked for the
summers. I wouldn’t give an inch. Mirabelle was your home. I told her the only way she was going to get
her divorce, was by giving up both of you.”
“She could have fought you in court.”
“Fought against a police chief? A man who knows the Wisconsin court system, the judges and lawyers
inside and out? I would’ve raked her over the coals. I was as unbending as that hundred-year-old oak in
Shirley Gilbert’s backyard.”
As if the conversation was too much for him, his dad got up and checked on the downriggers at the
back of the boat. He stood astern and turned. “I was wrong. I made your mother choose between
herself and her children.”
“You wouldn’t even let her see us?”
“I knew if she came to Mirabelle, it’d be moans and groans and tears every time she left.” Suddenly
looking so tired, he sat back on the port side of the boat. “If you two had gone to San Diego, you’d
never have wanted to come back to Mirabelle. I’d have lost you both.”
“I always thought she didn’t want me.”
“I don’t blame you for being mad at me, Noah.” His dad leaned back as if he couldn’t catch his breath.
“Strangely, I’m more relieved than anything. I think I need to find her.”
“When you do, tell her I’m sorry.”
“That’s something you’re going to have to tell her yourself.”
“I doubt an apology will cut it. A mother—or a father—should never have to choose between herself
and her children.”
Understanding dawned in Noah. “So when you found out Sophie was pregnant, you didn’t want me to
have to make the same choice Mom had to make.”
“I didn’t know what I was doing at the time, but I desperately needed to set the past right. I wanted you
to be able to live your life without guilt or regret. Free. I wanted you to be free.”
“Free.” Noah shook his head. “How can a man be free when his heart’s—”
“Oh, damn.” His dad groaned. “My arm…” He tried to stand, couldn’t, and lost his balance. His feet
went out from under him and he started to fall backward.
“Dad!” Noah shot forward. Reached. Caught a handful of shirt, but his tenuous grip wasn’t enough to
stop the momentum. With a loud splash, his father fell into the water. “Dad!”
“Noah…I’m having a heart att—” He went under and was sinking like an anchor.
Frantic, Noah dove after him and grabbed him under the arms. His dad’s eyes were closed, his mouth
slack. He was out, deadweight. Noah kicked, but he’d never been in the water before with his
prosthetic. His left leg seemed totally ineffective.
He kicked, kicked and kicked toward the surface, and instead of getting closer they seemed to be
moving farther away from the boat. As long as he held on to his dad he’d have only one arm and one
good leg. It wasn’t enough to move the water. His lungs felt as if they might explode. They were sinking.
He couldn’t let his dad go. No way. If one of them sank, then they were both going to sink. That was all
there was to it.
Sophie! Oh, God, Sophie.He didn’t want to leave her again. Not like this. Not ever.Kurt. Lauren.
Dammit! You can do this. Bum leg or not. Move, Noah! Now!
He made one last surge toward the surface. This time, he made headway, could tell he was closing in on
the surface.Kick, kick, kick! He shot up out of the water, sucked in a breath, and lunged for the boat.
He floated his dad to the stern, yanked on the ladder and managed to get his good leg up on the first
rung.
As soon as he pulled himself partially out of the water, his father’s weight, no longer buoyant, dragged
him back. Noah was running on adrenaline and didn’t have much time.
With everything in him, he heaved himself up, dragging his dad after him and into the boat. It was a
damned good thing he’d been working out, or they would both be dead. They fell onto the deck in a
heap. Noah prayed there was a defibrillator on the boat.
He hopped up. His dad wasn’t breathing. First his airway needed to be cleared of water. Noah lifted his
father’s limp figure, grabbed him low on his diaphragm and pressed, once, twice. Harder. Water flowed
from his dad’s mouth. He pressed again and again and more water spilled through his lips. After several
more compressing thrusts, all the water seemed expelled.
Noah laid him back on the deck of the boat and frantically searched through the cabinets. Fire
extinguisher. First-aid kit.Yes! An automated external defibrillator. An AED. His dad must have kept it
on board for his charter fishing operation. Noah had used them before. Too many times.
He unzipped the bag, ripped off his dad’s shirt, grabbed a nearby towel to dry off the exposed skin, and
applied the electrical pads to his dad’s chest. Then he sat back and waited for the thing to charge.Go, go,
go!
Finally, it was ready and Noah hit the button. The machine zapped his dad and then automatically
monitored the response. Three times it zapped his dad before his heart started and his rhythms stabilized,
but he wasn’t breathing. Noah administered mouth-to-mouth, inflating his dad’s chest. Minutes seemed
to pass before his father began breathing on his own.
“Dad!” Noah shook him. “Dad!”
Nothing. He was unconscious, but alive.
Noah raced to the radio, revved the engine and ran the boat at full speed toward Mirabelle. “Herman!”
he yelled over the line to the deputy chief. “Herman!”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“MOM!”
“Mom!”
Focused as Sophie was in attempting to calm a guest, the frantic calls barely penetrated her
consciousness. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” she said, facing the woman, doing her best to sound sympathetic.
“Unfortunately bee stings do sometimes happen, especially if a child is traipsing through the gardens.”
“Traipsing?” The woman’s eyebrows rose and she put her hands on her hips. “What are you
suggesting?”
“Only that the bees tend to gravitate toward the flowers.”And soda cans. And kids with sticky fingers.
The little twerp had all but sent out invitations.
“Well, shouldn’t you spray, or something?” the woman yelled.
“Mom!”
“Mom!”
That time, the two distinct voices registered loud and clear. Sophie spun around to find Kurt and Lauren
running toward her from the direction of the marina. They nearly knocked her to the ground as they slid
to a stop.
“Grandpa…had…heart attack!” The words spilling from Lauren’s mouth were interrupted by choking
sobs.
“A helicopter just took him to the hospital!” Kurt added in a rush.
“Slow down,” Sophie said, not sure she’d heard correctly. “Start over.”
Jan came racing out of the inn. “Sophie!” she yelled. “Jim had a heart attack out on his boat. He’s being
airlifted to the Ashland hospital.”
“Quick!” Lauren said.
“We have to go there. Now!” Kurt grabbed her arm and tugged.
“Okay, okay.”
“I already called a water taxi. He’ll meet you in the marina,” Jan said, holding out her purse, a small
black wallet with an attached shoulder strap.
“What about Noah?” Sophie called over her shoulder as the kids tugged her toward town.
“He was with Jim on the boat and went along in the helicopter. Josie’s already left for the mainland.”
“Hey!” the guest with the stung kid shouted. “What about me?”
Sophie nearly turned back again to give the woman a piece of her mind.Selfish little —
“I’ll handle this,” Jan said. “You go!”
In the short time it took to run to the marina, Sophie’s insecurities about leaving the island raced to the
forefront. She followed the kids along the docks to the taxi station. Their boat was waiting, and the
moment the driver saw them he started his engine. “All aboard.” The man helped Lauren and Kurt climb
into his boat. When he held out his hand for Sophie, she faltered.
“Come on, Mom,” Lauren said.
“Hurry,” Kurt added.
Sophie swallowed.You can do this. Jim needs us. Pretend it’s like any other trip. You need to be there
for Noah.
She reached out and climbed into the boat. Her stomach flipped and flopped the entire ride to the
mainland. When they stepped on shore, strangers were walking this way and that, but being on the
mainland wasn’t so bad. Except for the cars. They were zipping by on the road.
“Mom, come on!” The kids were running down the pier.
Sophie paid the water taxi and ran after the kids toward the garage where she stored her vehicle, a
ten-year-old economy car with only fifteen thousand miles logged on the odometer. After unlocking the
storage garage, she put the key in the ignition, keeping her fingers crossed that the couple she paid to
service the car had upheld their end of the bargain. The engine turned over without a problem and in no
time they were on the road.
She only used the car, at the most, once a year, so there was usually a bit of relearning involved once
she got behind the wheel, and knowing Jim was in the E.R. didn’t help matters. She felt like a frantic
teenager, jerking her way out of the parking lot, and like an incompetent grandmother, cruising the
highway.
For the first ten minutes, about how long it took her to get the vehicle moving the posted speed of
fifty-five miles an hour, other drivers passed her with either honks or glares, sometimes both. It was
always a strange sensation being off the island. Strange people, strange buildings, strange happenings. As
if she were on another planet. Planet Not-Mirabelle. Jim’s heart attack magnified everything.
By the time she drove into the hospital parking lot about an hour later, she was a mass of nerves. This
was where they’d brought Isaac, where she’d first seen his lifeless body. She’d been able
to—barely—maintain her calm for the kids’ sake the entire drive. The moment she turned the corner to
the waiting room and saw Josie sitting in a chair holding a balled-up tissue in her hand and Noah looking
out the window, she burst into tears. His head came up and his eyes watered, and she sobbed all the
more.
He turned and held out his arms. Relief cooled the anxiety that had been building inside her since she’d
set out from Mirabelle. She practically fell into him. His clothes were cold and damp.
“He’s not going to die, Soph.” He squeezed her tight, resting his head on top of hers. “At least not
today. He’ll be okay.”
“You’re sure?”
“He and I have too much left to say to each other.” He relaxed his hold and Sophie felt Kurt and Lauren
being drawn by Noah into a group hug. Lauren sniffled and Kurt’s fingers dug into Sophie’s back. “I’m
telling you guys,” Noah whispered, “he’s going to be okay.”
“You’re wet,” she whispered.
“We were on the boat. Dad fell into the lake when his heart attack hit.”
“You got him back onto the boat?” Sophie stared at him. “By yourself?”
“Guess all that time I’ve spent with the military was good for something.”
Sophie turned to Josie and hugged her tightly. While they sat and waited together, Sophie grabbed
Noah’s hand and wouldn’t let go. Some time later, a doctor came out of surgery to explain that they’d
performed a triple bypass on Jim, that the heart attack had been relatively minor and there’d been no
permanent damage. Jim would be in the hospital for a week, give or take, and would have to rest for at
least another month.
“Noah,” the doctor said. “If it wasn’t for you, your dad wouldn’t be alive right now. Whatever training
you’ve had, it came in handy today.”
As Sophie felt tears spill onto her cheeks, Noah held his emotions in check; only his red-rimmed eyes
gave him away. Josie sobbed and Noah tried to calm her down.
“When I think of all the times,” she said through her tears, “he’s been out on that boat alone—”
“It’s okay, Josie.” Noah hugged her. “He’s going to be all right.”
Soon after the doctor left, a nurse came to let them know Jim was in intensive care and they could see
him. “Family only,” she cautioned when all five of them stood.
Noah grabbed Josie’s hand and tugged her along. “We are family. All of us.”
Lauren grabbed Noah’s other hand and Kurt’s worried features softened. All five of them walked into
the room together. The equipment hummed and beeped, and Jim had tubes coming out of him every
which way but Sunday.
When Lauren took his hand, he opened his eyes. “Hey there, Miss Mirabelle,” he whispered. “Where’s
Kurt?”
“Here, Grandpa.” He moved up the other side of the bed and loosely took Jim’s other hand.
Noah pushed Josie a little closer. Jim smiled weakly up at her. “Guess you’re stuck with me for a while
longer,” he mumbled.
“I guess so,” Josie whispered.
“How do you feel?” Noah asked.
“Like shit.” He glanced at Sophie. “Excuse my French, Mom.”
The kids chuckled nervously.
“I hope they have a lot of opportunities to hear worse from you.” Sophie smiled.
“Noah?” Jim searched for Noah’s hand. “You saved my life, son.”
Noah gripped his dad’s fingers and squeezed. “Guess that means I’m stuck with you, too.”
MONITORS BEEPED AND EQUIPMENTbuzzed in the hospital room. Noah sat in a chair with his
good foot resting on the rollout cot he’d slept in the previous three nights and his laptop propped open on
his lap. He was getting some writing done, but it wasn’t amounting to much.
Over the top of the screen he studied his dad’s face. The past several days hanging in the hospital and
keeping an eye on his dad had brought back a host of bad memories for Noah of his own internment not
all that long ago. Constant pain and frustration. Surgeries and physical therapy. Pills, shots and blood
being drawn. The smells of antiseptic mixed with flowers and cafeteria food. Hard beds and lumpy
pillows. The air temperature in a hospital room seemed to forever be either too cold or too hot. No
wonder Noah’s nightmares had come back.
Still, Noah had barely left his dad’s side. Josie had come every day to give Noah a few hours off here
and there, but he refused to leave his dad for more than the time it took to eat a meal in the cafeteria. He
remembered all too well what it was like waking up alone in a sterile room with nothing more for
company than a TV mounted on the wall.
His dad stirred, moving his head back and forth. “Noah?”
Noah set his computer on the table, stood and moved to the side of the bed. “I’m here, Dad.” He
squeezed his hand.
“What day is it?” he asked, trying to swallow.
“Wednesday.” Noah grabbed a cup of water and positioned the straw near his dad’s mouth.
“Thanks.” He took a sip. “When am I gettin’ outta here?”
“Not until this weekend.”
“Dammit,” he murmured, his eyelids fluttering from open to closed and back again. “Guess I’ll be missing
tomorrow night’s council meeting.”
“They’ll manage without you.”
Although his dad cracked open his eyes, he was clearly still very tired and groggy from pain meds.
“They’re voting on whether or not Marty should get bids.”
Noah was trying very hard not to care.
“I need you to…go for me,” his dad said, closing his eyes again. “A Bennett…” he said, his words
barely audible, “should be there.” The last word had barely left his mouth before his fingers went
completely lax.
“Dad?”
No response. He’d fallen back to sleep. Noah was adjusting the blanket over his dad’s bare feet when
his laptop dinged with incoming mail.
He glanced at the screen and noticed e-mail messages with a Pick Up The Phone subject heading from
Liz, his editor, flying left and right into his mailbox. She’d called no less than ten times in the past week
and he’d ignored her messages. He might have a few more paragraphs written in his book, but that level
of progress was more pathetic than hopeful, so there didn’t seem any point in talking with her. Now, it
appeared, he didn’t have a choice.
He stalked into the waiting area and called her on his cell. “All right. All right. Stop, already.”
“So that’s how I get your attention,” Liz said, triumphantly.
“What do you want?” He paced outside the door.
“I want to know how you’re doing.”
“You mean you want to know how the book is doing.” The answering silence caused regret to slice
through him. After the way she’d gone out of her way to visit him in the hospital, Liz hadn’t deserved
that. “I’m sorry.” He set off down the hall, passing other open doors, nurse’s carts and food trays.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Part of why I’m calling is about the book. It’s my job.”
“I know.” He took a left and headed into another wing of the small hospital. It felt good to stretch his
legs. “My dad had a heart attack.”
Her heavy sigh was audible. “When it rains, it pours. Is he expected to recover?”
“Fully.”
“What about you? Are you eating?”
“Yes.”
“Sleeping?”
“I’ve been staying with him at the hospital. I’m doing okay.”
“Then the book will come.” She sighed again. “Word came out yesterday that our competitor bought an
Iraqi book and slated it for publication the same month as yours. I’m getting pressure to move up your
pub date.”
“Liz, I can’t—”
“I know. We’ll get down to the wire on this one, but we’ll get it done, Noah. Okay? I’m not giving up
on you.”
“I hear ya.”
“Do me a favor and answer my calls?”
“Yeah, all right.”
She hung up.
He stretched out his neck and let his shoulders relax on the way back to the room. After confirming his
dad was still sound asleep, Noah sat back in the chair and deleted Liz’s rapid-fire e-mails.
A Bennett should be there.
Noah didn’t want to get involved in tomorrow night’s council meeting. He shouldn’t have an opinion one
way or another. But he did. Mirabelle needed a shot in the arm, and while Marty’s new hotel didn’t fit
the bill, Noah didn’t have an alternative.
Lacking the motivation for anything more productive, he grabbed his laptop and flipped through the
pictures he’d taken of Mirabelle these past weeks. They were the usual tourist-type shots, including the
view of Mirabelle Island Inn from the marina, the quaint chapel on the hill. The carriages, the horses.
Although he’d framed all of them well, getting the most out of the colors and lighting, the photos with the
people in them captured and held his attention.
One by one, he scrolled through the photos, selecting several and lining them up on his desktop. The
silhouette of Sophie, Lauren and Kurt on the shore against the backdrop of a glorious sunset. Mrs.
Gilbert with a floppy sun hat, tending to her gardens in front of her pink Victorian bed-and-breakfast.
Ron Setterberg carrying kayaks to the shore, the colorful sails of the boats docked in the marina behind
him. What a story they told.
A story. That was it. His story of Mirabelle Island. Forget Iraq. He was sick of war and violence and
death. For once he was going to write something about all that was peaceful and right in the world. The
prodigal son had returned and could finally see the good in his childhood home.
He started typing and the words flew off his fingertips. Sentences became paragraphs, paragraphs
became pages. For hours, he worked on the article. Writing, rewriting, revising. Finally, he was done and
satisfied with the result. It wasn’t just fun and fluff. It was Mirabelle, his all-grown-up vision of the place,
warm and touching, a place for making memories.
That was it. He e-mailed the completed article and a batch of his favorite photos off to an editor he’d
worked with for years at a popular, high-profile magazine.
It wasn’t a book. It was a beginning.
MARTY ANDBRITTANY HAD NOsooner arrived back on Mirabelle, home from their extended
honeymoon, than Marty had met with his contractors to discuss the feasibility of his plans. He wasn’t
merely satisfied with the results, he was ecstatic. Initial estimates were that the entire project could be
completed within his budget and the preliminary marketing analysis supported his proposal on all fronts.
All he had to do now was convince the Mirabelle town council this was best for the island and he could
begin getting detailed, formal bids. After that, all he needed was the board’s unanimous approval to start
construction.
While Marty was floating on cloud nine, Sophie found herself annoyed with her brother. He had the
money to do virtually anything he wanted. Why couldn’t he find another island to destroy?
She sat next to Brittany, at the front of the large auditorium, waiting for Marty’s second council meeting
to begin. This time, in contrast to the first meeting, there was standing room only. Nearly the entire island
had decided to attend. The room was buzzing with conversation, some of it positive, some negative, very
little neutral, and all of it revolving around Marty’s plans.
The council members, all except Jim Bennett, came into the room, took their seats and brought the
meeting to order. Carl Andersen got the ball rolling and invited Marty to come forward to present his
detailed proposal.
Marty had enough booklets to pass out to everyone in the room and a video presentation outlining his
idea. He shut off the video and looked out over the audience.
“All of you have your opinions on what’s right and wrong here,” Marty said. “So let’s look at the facts.
Tourist season is in full swing. Two of your three busiest months are nearly over.” He cleared his throat.
“Who on this island is at full capacity? Who on this island has reached sales comparable to the first tourist
month last year? The year before that? The one before that?”
Some looked worriedly around the room. Many bowed their heads in concentration. He was right.
Everyone in the room knew it.
“There is no one in this room who hasn’t been affected by a drop in tourism. The world is changing and
we have to change with it or risk getting left behind. That’s all there is to it. The initial conclusion of the
feasibility study is that my plan will work.”
Marty stepped down and that’s when all politeness left the room. It was neighbor against neighbor,
business owner against business owner. The sound was deafening. Sophie ached for her brother, for the