“Where did you learn that word?” Becca asked.
“School.”
Becca looked at me. “Are you going?” she asked me.
I shrugged. “It’s not going to change anything.”
“Still. We should go.”
“I agree,” Dad said. “At least to support those that are trying to fight it.”
“Why didn’t they fight when the land use proposal was moving through city council?” I asked.
“Maybe they didn’t know about it.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I’m not interested in drama.”
“We’re going,” Becca said. “The kids can make signs.”
I stared at her. “Becca!”
“What? It’s art. Civics. It’s a learning experience.”
“Just don’t let yourself get used as a pawn,” I warned. “You know how these things get.”
“It’ll be enlightening,” Becca said. “You should go. If that monstrosity goes in, you’re going to lose big.”
“How so?” I asked.
“Do you really want to be surfing with giant boats polluting the water? People running their jet skis and just clogging up the beach in general.”
All good points. “We’ll see,” I said.
CHAPTER 14
COLT
The meeting ended fifteen minutes ago. I was still sitting at the desk in the study, staring at the wall and trying to decide what to do. The investor meeting had been brutal. Thirty talking heads on a Zoom call was always going to be chaotic. Add in the fact it was about money and things were a hundred times worse.
I closed my laptop, sat back in the desk chair, and stared at the ceiling for a long moment, rubbing my jaw and contemplating every life choice.
I got up and walked to the window that faced the ocean. I’d spent the last three hours discussing the very beach I was staring at. The meeting had not gone well. That was the diplomatic version. The less diplomatic version was that thirty people, most of whom had never set foot in Surfside Cove, had spent the better part of the afternoon talking themselves into walking away from the whole thing. I’d spent a significant portion of that time talking them off the ledge. By the end of the meeting, I wasn’t sure I’d succeeded. Judd had pretty much abandoned me. It was his project. I was one of the largest investors, but it was his thing and he seemed to be prepared to let me do all the heavy lifting.
The postponement argument had been gaining ground. The many reasons for why we should hold off or scrap the location and look for something else just kept piling up. Community opposition. Negative press. Timeline delays on the permits. The vandalism, which Judd had not wanted to disclose to the board, but someone had clearly already briefed them about it. It had made headlines. It wasn’t going to stay a secret.
The relocation argument was also being considered. One of the investors had found three spots in Oregon and another one up near Santa Barbara. Two in Washington state. I’d shut that down fast. I’d walked them through the data again. Data I had spent nearly a year gathering.
Judd had closed the meeting without resolution, which was its own kind of answer. He’d said he wanted to reconvene in two weeks with updated numbers and a revised community relations specialist. Apparently, he’d been making calls and was pulling out the big guns to spin the negative into something positive.
I changed out of the clothes I’d been wearing for the meeting. I wasn’t the guy that wore a dress shirt and tie with nothing but boxers on below the waist. I dressed for the meeting like we were all meeting in person. But now it was time for a T-shirt and jeans. Cody was in the living room watching golf when I walked in.
“Beer?” I said.
“Hell, yeah. Let’s go.”
We walked down to the beach and followed it north toward the strip of bars and restaurants that ran along the waterfront. The evening crowd was already thickening. Summer people in sundresses and flip flops. Couples strolling. A pack of teenagers were being loud, like teens did. Like we all did at one point.
We headed to what used to be our regular hangout. It used to be named The Pelican. It wasn’t called that anymore. I stoppedat the entrance and stared at the sign above the door. Saltwater Social. White neon letters and nothing like the old place.
