“Really? But they’ve been here forever. Generations of his family have run the store.”
“Three generations. But Jerry says if the development happens, a big chain store will want to come in and they won’t be able to compete. This morning some construction workers were talking about the jobs it would create. Good-paying jobs. And not just during construction. There would be maintenance positions, security, and cleaning staff.”
“The town could use that.”
“It could. But at what cost?” She looked around her coffee shop. “Would people still want to come sit here, drink coffee, and chat with their neighbors if we become just another tourist spot? Would they still feel that sense of community? We have regular visitors, families that have been coming to the island for years. Will they want to come here if the whole feeling of the island changes?”
“Some change is inevitable.”
“But once it starts, you can’t go back. Look at how many quaint Florida towns are now peppered with high-rises.”
“The council seems split too, from what I hear.” Maxine took a sip of her coffee.
“They are. The mayor is for it. He says we need the tax revenue. But Rachel and George are against it. The others on the council…” She shrugged. “They’re waiting to hear what people say at the meeting before deciding.”
“Sounds like tomorrow night’s meeting will be interesting.”
“That’s one word for it.” She stood and walked to the window. “You know what bothers me most? The way it’s dividing people. Usually, when something comes up, we all pull together. But this…” She turned back to Maxine. “I’ve seen lifelong friends arguing about it. The Petersons and the Grants aren’t speaking to each other anymore over it.”
“Small towns can be like that. People feel strongly about their home.”
“They do. And everyone has valid points on both sides. I just side with keeping with our building code. No high-rises. I like Magnolia Key just like it is.” She returned to her seat. “I just wish there was a way to bring new opportunities without losing what makes this place special.”
“And what does your heart tell you about all of this?”
“My heart?” She gave a small laugh. “My heart is probably the last thing I should listen to when it comes to anything involving Cliff Griffin.”
Chapter 2
Cliff eased his Mercedes off the ferry, the familiar sights of the island stretching before him. He couldn’t wait for the bridge to be finished to connect the mainland to the island. It would help cut construction costs on his building as well as make it easier for guests to get to the island and fill his hotel.
As he pulled onto Main Street, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the storefronts with their faded paint and weather-worn signs exactly as he remembered. His car purred down the street in blunt contrast to the rustic charm surrounding him.
The scent of jasmine drifted through his open window, mixed with salt air. He’d forgotten that particular combination that seemed so uniquely Magnolia Key. The hanging baskets outside the shops swayed in the breeze, spilling over with bright flowers. Some things never changed.
Several people on the sidewalk stopped to stare as he drove past. Mrs. Henderson, his old math teacher, gave a slight head shake before turning away. Jake, who owned the hardware store, offered a friendly wave. The town remained divided on his development plans, just as they’d been divided on everything else he’d ever done.
He pulled into a spot near city hall and cut the engine. The building’s white columns and weather vane looked exactly the same as when he’d played on these steps as a kid, back before everything got complicated.
Through the window of the gift shop, he caught Patty Miller’s wide-eyed gaze before she ducked behind a display. Two teenagers walking past whispered and pointed, probably having heard all about the troublemaker son coming home to build his high-rise.
He stepped out of his car, straightening his suit jacket. A few unfamiliar faces hurried past, likely some of the new residents who’d moved to the island in recent years. But mostly he saw the same people who’d watched him grow up and who still remembered him as that wild kid.
The sea breeze ruffled his hair as he grabbed his briefcase from the passenger seat. He had every right to be here, to develop his property as he saw fit. If only he could convince the rest of them to see the potential in his plans.
He spotted his mother before she saw him. Eleanor Griffin stood on the sidewalk outside of the drugstore, her cream-colored dress and matching shoes pristine as always. Her silver hair caught the sunlight, styled in the same perfect waves she’d worn for decades. She clutched a clipboard in her hands. No doubt for some fundraising event. She never stopped with her committees and causes.
The urge to duck into the nearest shop hit him hard. But he wasn’t that teenage boy anymore, trying to escape her disappointment.
“Cliff.” Her voice carried down the street. Several people turned to watch, including old Mrs. Peterson sweeping her shop’s front step.
“Mother.” He kept his voice pleasant, if not quite friendly. “You’re looking well.”
“You’re stirring up trouble again.” The words cracked like a whip. She tapped her perfectly manicured nails against the clipboard. “As if this town needs more upheaval.”
He noticed Patty from the gift shop had stepped outside her door, pretending to arrange a display while clearly straining to hear every word.
“Progress isn’t trouble, Mother. The development will bring jobs and tourism dollars. The town needs this kind of economic boost.” The practiced pitch rolled off his tongue, but his insides twisted at her familiar frown. The one that said he’d disappointed her yet again.
