“Maybe, but right now—” They arrived at the tent. “You’ve got a whale of a story here.”
Through the translucent sunrise, Emery surveyed the tent from one end to the other. “Wha—what happened?” She was accosted by a most vile odor. Trash everywhere. Piles and piles. She started to wade in, but Delilah snatched her arm.
“You don’t know what’s in there.” She scanned the scene. “This is going to change today’s plans, trust me. I’ll call Simon. You go wake Caleb.”
Emery ran all the way, stopping only to let a delivery truck ramble down Sea Blue Way. The street was dark and lonely with none of the beauty and charm of last night.
Cutting through the yards that butted up against Pelican Way, she landed on Caleb’s front porch and banged on his door.
“Wake up, wake up!” She rang the bell, then pounded with her fist. “Caleb!”
When she heard footsteps, she stepped back, finally taking a deep breath. When the door swung open, she went breathless again. Standing there with a rumpled, rolled-out-of-bed vibe, she completely forgot her mission.
He was shirtless, wearing baggy shorts, his hair shooting in every direction, and a night’s growth on his angular jaw. She wanted to smash into him, knock him back for a kiss or two.
“Em, what’s wrong?” Concern filled his blue eyes as he looked her up and down.
“The tent—” She pointed toward the beach. “Trashed, Caleb. Someone dumped truckloads of garbage under the tent.”
“They trashed the royal brunch?” He stepped onto the porch, gazing in that direction. “Are you kidding me? After my brilliant Chamber speech?”
“Maybe it stirred some old feelings, but there’s vile-smelling junk all over the beach, under the tents, covering that expensive floor we put down.”
“Trashing the brunch for the Crown Prince of Lauchtenland? Now that’s going too far. It’s political and social suicide. The State Department might even get involved.”
“You have to see it. Shoot, I’m surprised you can’t smell it. It’s like dead fish, rotten food, I don’t know what all, but wecannotlet the prince and princess go there. Delilah’s calling Simon.”
“Where was security?” Caleb jammed on a pair of sneakers sitting by the door and yanked on the hoodie hanging on a nearby hook. One step out of the house and his phone rang from inside. He hesitated, then dashed up the stairs. “I bet it’s Simon.”
The mayor woke up every town council member and even the city manager, demanding crews come and clean up the mess. Emery stood in the living room just inside the door, waiting, listening to Caleb’s half of the conversation.
“Simon’s fired up,” he said, dropping his phone in his pocket, then heading toward the beach. “He wants to know who did this.”
“We can figure that out tomorrow, but what are we going to do about today?” Emery jogged alongside him. “They haven’t even walked through the town, seen the rink, the mural, or Malachi Nickle’s sawmill.”
“We could move the brunch to the Skylight.”
“Which is exactly what Mac Diamond would like.”
“You think he did this?” Caleb stopped short. “Or Bobby? Some sort of delayed revenge?”
“All these years later?” she said. “Why? This ruins the whole visit. The town’s reputation. There are national journalists all over the place. Every person with a phone and a social media account is a reporter. If those men want a thriving, progressing Sea Blue Beach, trashing a royal visit would not be the way to go.”
When they arrived on scene, Simon was walking the tent parimeter, urgency in his movements. Kadasha was also on-site, taking pictures. That’s when it hit Emery.
TheRoyal Sunday Gazettewas not going to be at all what she’d planned.
“Mac denies any knowledge of this. So does Brockton,” Simon said as he approached. “I’ve failed as mayor, allowing this level of animosity to fester.”
“What happened to security?” Emery said.
“Chief Kelly’s working on that now, checking the few cameras we have. This much garbage had to come from a large vehicle or a lot of small ones. Any tracks in the sand were covered. We didn’t have security overnight.”
“What are we going to do for the brunch?” Emery said. “Go to the Skylight?”
“We’re not having a brunch.” Simon motioned to someone arriving in an ATV. “The prince and princess left. Their protection detail saw the trash as a threat and made the call. Worried something more might happen throughout the day. Nothing says, ‘Go away, we don’t want you here’ like a mountain of a stinking sewage.”
“They left?” Emery said. She had six pages waiting for a special royal edition. She’d sold ads.
