A Place to Call Home (Harlequin Heartwarming) (16 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

B
RANDON
RESTED
his hands on the fence and stared at Penelope’s little house. She’d been avoiding him for days. He no longer saw her on her back porch in the mornings. She was conspicuously absent, though her car was in the driveway, whenever he’d come by to try to talk some sense into her.

The flight home had been quiet and tense, and this time not due to Brandon’s dislike of flying.

After Penelope had caught him and Marlene talking about Murphy, the weekend was a bust. He’d tried everything, but Penelope had refused to listen to anything either he or Marlene said. Whenever she would meet his eyes, her huge dark ones overflowed with hurt.

Why does it have to come down to this choice of Murphy over me? Over common human decency? He’s a crook. He’s not worth the consideration Penelope has in her little finger.

Brandon started to turn. As he did, an engine’s thrum filled the air and a small dark helicopter circled overhead. The helicopter seemed to be searching out a landing spot and it found it, all right, in the middle of his just-planted, barely sprouted winter wheat.

With a hand on a metal post and a foot in the wire, Brandon jumped the fence and started toward the idiots. Couldn’t they see they’d landed in a cultivated field?

The blades slowed as Brandon approached the helicopter. A slick
GQ
type and a rotund little man with maybe three strands of blond hair across his pink scalp ducked under the blades and jogged over to meet Brandon.

“Hi, there,” the
GQ
type shouted over the dying noise of the helicopter’s blades. “I’m Todd Jeffers with Mid-Florida Environmental Solutions! Are you here to meet us?”

If the introduction was supposed to clue Brandon in, it didn’t. “You’re in my field!” he snapped. “You just landed that helicopter in my field!”

From somewhere behind him, Murphy said, “I told them they could.”

Brandon had that oh-so-familiar stomach-churning reaction to Murphy’s smug voice. He turned to see Penelope and Murphy closing the gap between them.

“Hi, there!” Penelope held out a hand to the strangers. “I’m Penelope Langston. You’re Rudy Richardson and Todd Jeffers?”

The rotund man wiped a forearm across his perspiring face and then accepted Penelope’s hand. “Yes, I’m Rudy!” He turned to Brandon. “Sorry if we messed anything up. My pilot there—” he jabbed a thumb in the direction of the helicopter “—said it was as good a place to land as any.”

Brandon started to speak but found he couldn’t. He looked at Penelope, who was looking at where the helicopter had landed.

She said in a halting voice, “I...I’d said you could land close to the pond. That’s Brandon’s winter wheat.”

“And
I
said they could land anywhere they wanted,” Murphy repeated, jabbing his thumb against his chest. “After all, when we sell this part of the land, they can do whatever they please.”

“Sell? Penelope? You’re selling? But you...I wanted...” Brandon broke off as he saw the softness in Penelope’s expression turn hard and cold.

“You made it perfectly clear what you wanted in Oregon. Guys? I think we’ll have more privacy in the house.”

* * *

P
ENELOPE
LED
the way past her barn and into the kitchen. Chairs scraped on the old linoleum as everyone took a seat. For a moment, she was swept away in memories of how Brandon and she had shared more than one meal at this table. Through the window, she let her gaze follow Brandon’s departing, ever-smaller figure across the field and then stared at the helicopter. It looked like a huge black widow in the middle of Brandon’s winter wheat.

Why, after she knew what he wanted to do to her grandfather, after she’d caught him red-handed, couldn’t this be easier? Why did she still feel...remorse? Love? Could she love him? Could she love a man she’d had all wrong?

I shouldn’t have gotten close to him.

She dragged her attention back to the conversation unfolding. This Grandpa Murphy sounded completely different from the one she’d come to know. He was slick and professional, with facts and figures at his fingertips.

When Rudy wanted to know about workforce potential, Grandpa tossed off high school graduation rates with the casual ease of a chamber of commerce director. When Todd wanted to know the depth and the flood stage of the creek, Grandpa replied without hesitation. When Rudy asked about the abandoned rail spur on the property, Grandpa referred him to the railroad’s owner and recapped a conversation he’d had with the man.

Penelope’s stomach churned. She didn’t know this Grandpa Murphy at all.

“You have no idea what a pleasure it is talking with you. This parcel seems perfect, based on what you’ve said. Of course...” Rudy narrowed his eyes. “I’ve thought that before. That’s why we keep coming back to you on this land. This makes the fourth ‘perfect’ piece of land I’ve looked at for this project. Something always goes south at the last minute, and I can tell you, I’m real tired of shucking out option money for property we don’t acquire.”

“So if your project is so great for the community, why aren’t more towns vying for it?” Penelope couldn’t help asking.

Grandpa shot her a warning look.

“Good question,” Rudy answered, sitting back in his chair. “Tell me and we’ll both know. All you have to do is say the words ‘solid-waste facility’ and people start screaming. They won’t even listen. They picket their county commissions. They picket their land-use boards. They scream about how we’re trucking in garbage.”

“But they have a point,” Penelope said, ignoring Grandpa’s intake of breath.

“People don’t understand. You use this stuff, you put it in the trash, somebody’s gotta do something with it. At least I’m sorting it and recycling what I can. It’s all done by computer, using robotic equipment. It goes in as mountains of garbage, and it either comes out as recyclable plastic or paper or very clean smoke and steam.”

Todd leaned across the table and tapped the copy of the plat they’d been studying. “That’s why our company is willing to pay you at least twice what the market value is for this land. Because, even though Brazelton County has no zoning or land-use ordinances in its incorporated areas, Rudy knows you’re going to have to deal with a lot of grief. And because, frankly, his investors are getting nervous. If Rudy doesn’t get the ground-breaking done on this within the next year, well...”

“Now, Todd, let’s not make it sound so dire. Yeah, my money guys want me to expand, and they’re willing to pony up the dollars to do that. They’re not going to wait forever, that’s true enough.”

Penelope examined the facility’s blueprints. It looked full to the brim of modern technology and robotics. “But how many actual jobs would this bring to the community?”

Todd and Rudy exchanged a brief look. “Well, you know, nobody actually wants to handle garbage. So we use a lot of equipment.”

“How many jobs?” she insisted.

“Maybe twenty-five, fifty, to start.”

“And then?”

“Well, it depends. On company profits and feasibility.”

Rudy must have seen she wasn’t pleased with Todd’s answer. “Of course we’ll add more jobs. But this is a poor area of the state, Ms. Langston. And any jobs are better than no jobs. Plus, these will be high-paying jobs.”

They answered her other questions with something Penelope could only call slick. Grandpa seemed to buy their pat answers.

She willed him to see through it, to see these two as she saw them. Couldn’t he see the way they hesitated, a fraction, before answering? How they put their fingers to their mouths as they replied to one of her tougher questions?

Maybe he does notice, but he’s not saying anything.

Grandpa Murphy remained upbeat as the four of them rode out to the abandoned rail spur at the far end of Penelope’s land.

Rudy stomped around, shaded his eyes and nodded in satisfaction. “Creek’s that way?” he asked.

“Yes,” Penelope said. “And that’s an unpaved county road that divides the property.”

“You’d have to talk to the county commission,” Grandpa said, “but since this road has no houses on it now, I’d say that a quitclaim was a definite probability.”

“Perfect,” Rudy said. “I like it. This looks perfect.”

“Now, to show you we’re seriously interested in this parcel, we’re willing to put up a quarter of the purchase price as an option payment,” Todd said. The way he fixed his eyes on Penelope in a hard, assessing stare reminded her of a rattler just before it strikes. “Of course, for that much in-earnest money, we’ll need a fairly in-depth options contract.”

“Of course,” Grandpa replied for her. “You folks want to be sure you’ve got a deal.” Penelope wanted to shake him, to yell at him until he came out of whatever kind of spell this was.

Grandpa gave her a meaningful glance and jerked his head. He obviously expected her to say something at this point.

Say what? “Where’s the dotted line?”

Penelope cleared her throat. “You can talk big fat percentages all you want, but until you make me a firm offer, I can’t possibly entertain tying up the land.”

Todd and Rudy looked at each other. Rudy nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Well...” Todd covered his mouth again and cleared his throat. “Providing all this checks out, of course, we’re prepared to offer you ten grand.”

Penelope laughed. The constriction around her lungs eased at the lowball price they’d given her. She could turn this offer down immediately. “Ten thousand? You have got to be out of your mind!”

Todd looked to Rudy and when Rudy nodded again, Todd said, “Okay, we’ll go to fifteen grand an acre, but that’s it.”

“Fifteen thousand an acre?” she choked out. “For twenty-five acres?”

“Anything else, and we have to get approval from our full board of directors,” Rudy told her. “But give us a firm option today, and we can write you a check for a quarter of that.”

Three hundred seventy-five thousand dollars? For farmland she paid two thousand an acre for? What kind of operation were they putting here?

Penelope’s senses went on full alert. She glanced from Rudy to Todd to Grandpa Murphy, all eagerness for her to say yes.

She couldn’t endure it. She wheeled slowly around. Her eyes followed the lay of the land as she made her turn. Could she do this? Could she sell this land out from under Brandon and let it be scarred by garbage?

She spotted Brandon at the fence. He was watching them, she realized. This time, he didn’t stand so straight. This time, even from this distance, she could see how his whole body drooped in defeat.

In one fell swoop, she could rescue her grandfather, give him all the resources he needed for his legal defense, and she could wound Brandon where it hurt the most.

Say no.

Grandpa Murphy jostled her elbow. In her ear, he muttered, “Penny-girl, they’re waiting! This money will help me pay my lawyers, keep me out of prison. I gotta have it. Tell ’em yes.”

She tore her gaze from Brandon. “Grandpa,” she said, patting him on the chest. “We have to be sure. Besides...” How to buy time? “If they’ll pay fifteen, who’s to say they won’t pay twenty?”

Her grandfather’s eyes lit up. “Now you’re thinking like a businesswoman. You’re right, don’t look too eager.”

Penelope addressed Rudy and Todd. “I think to short-circuit all that community protest you talked about, perhaps you should meet with the county commissioners, maybe even have a public hearing.”

They didn’t look happy. “Well, we’re not required—there’s no zoning ordinance,” Todd said.

“My grandfather’s assured me of that. But I’d like to do this as transparently as possible. So? What’s your answer?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

B
RANDON
SAT
on the end of Ryan MacIntosh’s dock, a handful of pebbles in his hand. Ryan and Sean Courtland leaned up against the dock’s railing.

When he tossed the pebbles, one by one, instead of skipping across the surface of the dark water, most of them sank.

“So these waste dump people, they’re on the up-and-up?” Brandon asked. He’d called Sean from the field that day, gave him the name of Mid-Florida Environmental and asked him to find out what he could. It had only taken a couple of days for Sean to get the information, but by then, it was common knowledge Penelope was selling out.

Sean hesitated. “Well, no mob connections that I can find out. That’s the first thing I thought of when you said waste disposal. They’ve been in business for about ten years, very profitable, but they’re running out of dumping room. They specialize in medical waste, biohazards, stuff like that.”

“I hear it’s all automatic,” Ryan said. “They’re hiring maybe fifty people, and that would cover all three shifts.”

“They believe in technology, robotics. In Florida at their main facility, as technology improved, they gradually cut their workforce. They had about two hundred when they opened, but now they’re dealing with twice the volume and they’ve got half the employees. So I wouldn’t be surprised in a couple of years if that employee count was slashed.”

“So why here?” Brandon asked. “How’d Penelope find them so quick?”

Sean dropped down beside him. “My sources tell me they’ve been looking for land without zoning ordinances, but with water and access to a railroad. That’s been hard to find. They’ve been turned down in three counties in South Georgia so far. This land fits the bill.”

“But that begs the question, how’d they find this place?”

“Maybe Murphy’s been working with them, and the auction interrupted his deal,” Ryan speculated.

“So Penelope knew? All this time?” Brandon slung the entire handful of pebbles into the pond. “And she never told me?”

“Do you think she knew?” Sean asked.

Brandon thought back to the argument she and Murphy had before they left for Oregon. “We’ll discuss this when we get back,” Penelope had said.

He sprang up from the dock so fast his foot connected with Sean’s leg, eliciting a “Hey, watch it” from Sean. “Sorry, man. I think she did know. Something happened...” He choked out the events of that morning, ending with, “I thought she was worked up because she wanted him out of her house. But maybe she was afraid he’d say something to me about this sale. She had me played. I cannot
believe
I fell for her wide-eyed Miss Innocent look. I built her a
barn!
”

“So what are you going to do?” Ryan asked.

“What can I do? There’s no zoning ordinance in this county. I tried to tell people we needed land-use regulations, but no, no, they wouldn’t believe me. I guess they’ll believe me now when they’re downwind from a garbage dump.” Brandon paced the dock, his hold on his temper slipping with every Penelope moment he recalled.

“There’s that meeting you told us about,” Sean reminded him.

“Fat lot of good that will do me. The county can’t do squat without some sort of zoning, and any zoning they pass now would be after the fact.”

“Yeah, but Brandon, you’re forgetting something,” Ryan said. “They got run out of three counties already. Why was that?”

Brandon stopped. “Yeah. That’s right. Sean, how did the counties fight back?”

“They changed the owners’ minds. Protests, petitions, signs, mass public awareness meetings. You name it, they did it. The owners backed out, because they knew they wouldn’t be welcome there if they did sell.”

Could Penelope be so heartless that she would go through with this if she heard how it affected the community?
He had seen her crying on that bed in her grandmother’s house, seen the softness in her expression after he’d kissed her. Her hand in his on the beach....

It can’t all have been an act.

He berated himself for the stubborn hope that wouldn’t be extinguished.

Ryan propped a foot on the railing. “Murphy’s been bragging all over town that this money will buy him enough legal horsepower to shake off the federal indictment.”

“Good luck to him then.” Sean grinned. “The way I hear it, the deputy U.S. attorney’s just about ready to present to the grand jury, and you know what that means. He thinks he’s got that airtight case he’s been looking for. So Murphy might as well take a match and burn that money up.”

“Yeah, but.” Brandon couldn’t take it anymore. He walked back up the dock, toward the grass and his truck, his footfalls echoing in the quiet of the early evening.

“Yeah, but what?” Ryan called after him.

“The land will still be gone. And this time...forever.”

* * *

W
HEN
P
ENELOPE
HAD
been four, Trent had talked her into going down the big, curvy slide. She’d thought she was ready—until she’d managed the climb up the fourteen steps to the top of the slide.

Trent had been behind her, huffing with the imperious impatience of a nine-year-old. “C’mon, Penny! Mom’s gonna tell us we gotta go! So move, will ya?”

When she’d whimpered and wanted to go back, Trent had stuck his tongue out at her and sneered. “Baby! You’re a widdle-bitty baby!”

So she’d done it. She’d turned around, settled on the top of the slide and let gravity take over. A fraction of a second after she’d let go, before the first hairpin turn, all her doubts supersized into gigantic screaming monsters. She wanted to stop. She wanted off.

Instead, she’d been sucked along on three more curves before she’d been able to set her shaky knees on solid ground.

All these years later, Penelope was beginning to get the same feeling she’d had on that slide.

The Dyno-Trash-Duo as she’d taken to calling them to herself, had scheduled the meeting as she requested. It had a downside she hadn’t calculated. Now everybody in the county knew the company’s intentions and blamed her.

She pulled into the crammed parking lot of the county board office. Conversations hushed as Penelope pushed through the crowd gathering on the lawn and spilling out of the commission office onto the old-fashioned front porch. From the rubbernecking, it was clear Penelope had been the central topic of discussion.

Inside the boardroom, Penelope nodded at Rudy, seated in the front row of stackable chairs, and at Todd, who was busy setting up a PowerPoint program. Grandpa Murphy was standing beside Rudy and waved her over.

“Whew,” Penelope told her grandfather. “Those guys out there sounded like they were after my blood.”

He laughed. “If they’d had a chance to switch places with you, darlin’, they would. In a heartbeat. Let ’em complain. It’ll give them something to do while you and I are on our way to the bank.”

A few minutes later, the chairman of the county commission took his seat. He brought the meeting to order with a stern warning about the consequences of disruption. “We’ll hear from folks in a civilized, courteous manner—from all sides—and then we’ll give you the county’s legal position.”

First up was Rudy, his pink scalp gleaming through his comb-over. With the help of Todd’s PowerPoint presentation, he made a pitch to the board about the solid-waste facility, how it would bring jobs and tax revenue to the county, how technologically advanced it was.

“We’re not asking for any county tax abatement. We’re not asking for the county to pony up any funds, just the quitclaim deed to the county road that bisects the land we intend to buy,” Rudy finished up.

“Hogwash,” somebody from the back piped up, and the room erupted into bedlam.