“Weren’t you here as a kid?”
“As a teen, yes.” Since running into Caleb her first day in town, she started sifting through her old, stored memories. “They tried to bulldoze the rink to start all the western development.”
“Right. But through a wild series of events, the town learned the land and the rink were owned by the Royal House of Blue in Lauchtenland. Prince Blue deeded the land to his home country. They couldn’t knock the rink down without offending the royals, so it was saved. You can read the story and Rachel’s correspondence with the royal family, mainly the queen, in the morgue.” Rex headed for the door. “The paper’s been put to bed, files zippedand ready to FTP to the press. Unless you want the town council story in tomorrow’s edition, we’re good to go.”
“Nothing seems to be that important. We can wait until Sunday. If we need to, we can update the online edition.” Which was even more anemic than the print version of theGazette. Last month, they had thirty hits. Half of the stories were from last year.
“Then I’m out, heading to my folks’ in Chipley. Got a date with a girl I used to know.”
“Sounds promising,” Emery said, clicking through the morgue files.
“I hope so. We’ve known each other since middle school. So what’s up with you and Caleb Ransom?”
Emery laughed. “Where’d that come from? Nothing’s up. We hung out the summer I was here as ateen.”
“There’s nothing romantic going on?”
“Rex, I’ve been here seven days.”
“Is he the reason you took this job, moved to Sea Blue Beach?”
“Wow, this is really bringing out the reporter in you,” Emery said. “I needed a job. I liked the potential of this one. As for Caleb, we’ve not talked in sixteen years. Then I ran into him at Alderman’s.”
Rex made a face. “What were you doing at Alderman’s?”
“Same thing you’re doing now—snooping.”
He laughed. “Fair enough. I hear he’s a good guy.”
“He was when I knew him.”
She shooed Rex out of the office so she could dig into the morgue before the town council meeting—by way of Sweet Conversations for a sandwich.
Emery clicked on a folder markedPhotos, then on the first .jpeg. A gorgeous photo of Rachel Kirby with Queen Catherine of Lauchtenland displayed on her screen. They were dressed in ball gowns and bedecked with jewels. Simply stunning.
“Hey, Rex.” Emery ducked into the newsroom, catching himas he packed up. “Have any of the Royal Blues ever visited Sea Blue Beach?”
“Not in this century, no.” He slipped his laptop and a battered notepad into a well-worn leather case. “Maybe not the last. The prince left in 1916 to fight in World War One.”
“Not even to see the Starlight? To see the place founded by one of their ancestors? Do any of the Nickle descendants visit?”
“I believe most of them grew up here but have since moved away. One dude owns a ranch in New Mexico, the other is a lawyer turned judge. There’s a sister who visits, but no details on when and why.” Rex paused. “To be honest, I think the West End believestheyfounded Sea Blue Beach. The East End is like the old grandpa you lock in the back room when guests arrive.”
“I never figured you to be hyperbolic. Is it really that bad?”
“Wait until the town council meeting. You’d think Alfred Gallagher, the big Realtor on the West End, and Bobby Brockton, who maintains every piece of government-owned land and then some, and Mac Diamond, a golf course developer, invented dirt.”
7
CALEB
Long day. He was exhausted. Not from work, but from wrangling an eleven-year-old boy. Which started the moment the kid opened his eyes. What an ordeal. Caleb had to constantly move him from one thing to the next.
Wake up. Get out of bed.
“Bent, shut off the game. Let’s go.”
Get dressed. Then eat breakfast.
