“Ha!” Daisy said. “Charles II was a rampant womanizer and Abe Lincoln was practically a monk.”
“No, no, hear me out,” Arlo said. “Both men wanted to extend forgiveness to their enemies. Charles II lived through years of sheer horror while he was on the run, yet after he regained the throne, he knew the only way to stabilize the country was by granting amnesty to the people who waged war against him. Abraham Lincoln wanted the same, but never got the chance to see it through. After he was assassinated, the North wanted to punish the South, and the country sank into years of revenge rather than reconciliation.”
Daisy waved her fan. “Must we speak of the North?”
“Arlo, may I talk with you?” Alice sent an apologetic look to Daisy and the others. “It’s just a little business. Nothing as exciting as resurrecting the war between the North and South, but quite important.”
Arlo offered his arm as any gentleman would do as he escorted her down the gazebo steps. Sun pounded down and everything seemed glaringly hot and oppressive as she tackled the thorny subject of the Roost. Her gaze roamed the sprawling expanse of the Tucker estate and she wished people could simply get along with each other. Why couldn’t Jack try to understand the people of Williamsburg? Respect for history was woven into their DNA.
“Jack Latimer is fighting his eviction from the Roost,” she said. “He says if we don’t let him back in by Monday, he’ll tear it down. He claims to have the authority to do so.”
Arlo’s eyes widened in understanding. “If the Tuckers give him permission, he’s right.”
“What can we do? I think it’s just a threat to make us reverse the eviction notice, but I don’t know how to stop it.”
Dismay morphed across Arlo’s face as he understood her quandary. The two of them retreated to the far end of the garden to discuss their options. The county’s primary concern was lack of power and water to a residential structure, but there were ways around that. A person could live in a pup tent provided it was on their own land and no rent was being paid in a landlord-tenant relationship. Since Jack wasn’t paying rent to the Tuckers, the county could classify his occupancy as a non-commercial private arrangement rather than a formal tenancy. It would let the county reverse their decision without setting a troublesome precedent.
“I know the county commissioner, and he’ll push this through,” Arlo assured her. “It ought to be enough to get Jack off your back long enough to do your research.”
Alice nodded, clinging to the hope that the plan would succeed. If it failed, her chances of uncovering the wonderful old secrets still hidden at the Roost would vanish forever.
Chapter Seven
Yoga always calmed Alice. Twice a week she took classes at a nearby gym where the instructor’s soothing voice led her through the long, languid stretches. As always, she wore black leggings, ballet slippers, and a gauzy floral wrap to stay decently covered. She would have preferred a female-only gym where there weren’t so many sweaty men ogling the women, but the yoga studio in the back was quite private. It had a ballet bar and hardwood floors reminiscent of the studio where she’d practiced ballet in France. She shouldered her gym bag, tucked the yoga mat beneath her arm, and walked inside the gym.
It wasn’t overly crowded today. As always, the music was too loud and a bank of televisions mounted to the walls weretuned to sports channels. Over by the weight racks, a handful of muscle-bound men grunted while she weaved through the floor equipment on her way to the yoga studio. An obnoxious man in the middle of the walkway pressed out pushups with a giggling woman sitting cross-legged on his back.
The giggly blond urged him to move faster.
“Lady, I’m going as fast as I can,” the jock groaned.
Lady.
She turned to gawk, and the chestnut hair damp with sweat was familiar, but it was the use of the termladythat Alice recognized. Commandeering the middle of the gym floor to carry on a flirtation was the sort of crass exhibitionism corroding modern society.
The giggling girl in shiny pink Lycra fell off his back and rolled onto the floor. Jack flipped onto his back, arms flung up and grinning as he panted in exhaustion.
He was looking at her. “You wanna hop on next, Professor?”
The muscles of his biceps and shoulders were sculpted and the leer on his face annoyed her. “No, thank you.”
He sat up. “Don’t run away so fast. Hey! I thought you’d like to know that Doc and me moved back into the Roost.”
Doc and I, she silently amended. “Good,” she said.
She and Arlo spent all of Sunday and a frantic Monday pounding on doors and humbling themselves before city employees until they lifted the eviction. Jack was now free to remain at the Roost so long as there was no tenancy agreement with the Tuckers.
Jack stood up, dragging a hand through his sweaty hair. “Thanks for holding up your end of the deal. I’m usually working during the days, but you can come by the Roost any time to do your research. Don’t wait too long, though. As soon as the permits for the amphitheater come through, we’ll break ground and tear down the building.”
Exasperation spilled over. “Doesn’t it bother you that a priceless piece of history is going to be destroyed so a few pampered rich people can play golf?”
Jack snorted. “Not everyone who plays golf is pampered.”
“Oh? How much will it cost to play a round of golf once your course is open?”
He nodded to her rolled-up mat. “How much do your fancy yoga classes cost? Or the membership at this gym?”
“At least yoga serves a purpose. The benefits of strength and flexibility are priceless. Golf isn’t a sport, it’s a game.”
