“You look at the paperwork,” he said simply.
I turned to look at him. I knew he was trying to tell me something but he wasn’t saying it outright. My dad did that shit all the time.
“I was on the historical preservation committee,” he said. “Years ago. Before the girls were school age. We spent the better part of two years working on the commercial corridor on Front Street. The heritage buildings.” He looked at me sideways. “You know which ones I mean.”
“The old block,” I said. “The ones that go back to the original town plan.”
He nodded. “We had developers come through twice in the nineties. Both times they wanted to tear down half of Front Street and put up something new. Something modern, they called it.” He made a sound that was not quite a laugh. “We fought them both times. Second time we won. We got the construction covenants written into the permits. Every commercial property on that original block.” He took a drink. “The covenant runs with the land. Doesn’t matter who buys it, who sells it, who inherits it. The covenant stays. Any structural modification, or proposed change to the exterior profile along with any new construction within the designated footprint requires unanimous approval from the historical committee. And to get approval, it has to conform to the original designspecifications.” He paused. “And we’ve all got opinions, which means unanimous approval is functionally impossible.”
I went very still.
My mind was already moving. I heard what he didn’t say. The headquarters Judd had already occupied, and had contractors walking through with clipboards ready to gut the place, was sitting right in the middle of that area. The building that would need to be substantially modified to accommodate the infrastructure requirements of a cruise terminal operation. The loading dock access alone would require tearing out the original south-facing facade.
“The Front Street building,” I said.
“Good luck getting around the historical society.” Gideon grinned.
I nodded, already thinking of how I could use that information to my advantage. “I guess that explains why Surfside hasn’t changed much in the last few decades.”
He chuckled. “Get a bunch of old farts with nothing better to do than protect their town and that’ll happen.”
“It’s preserved something special. I guess Texas is that way. Not the big cities. They can have all their skyscrapers and cement parks. The rest of us want our dirt roads and porch swings.”
He laughed. “And we want our sandy beaches and fire pits.”
I got it. I understood. I finished my beer and got to my feet. I should probably get going. I looked down at Summer and debated how to handle the awkward situation. Couldn’t kiss her goodbye. Did I wake her and tell her I was leaving?
“I’ll make sure she gets up to bed,” Gideon said.
And problem solved. He wasn’t going to make this too easy on me. I almost respected him more for it.
“It was nice to meet you, Gideon,” I said. “Thank you for letting me spend time with your family.”
“I have a feeling we’ll be breaking bread again soon,” he said.
That made me grin. “Hope so. Goodnight.”
CHAPTER 31
SUMMER
Iwoke up with a gasp.
One second I was dead asleep and the next I was sitting straight up in bed with my heart hammering like I’d been running sprints. The room was dark. The house was quiet. I pressed my hand flat against my sternum and told myself to breathe.
One of the kids, probably. Ocean had a habit of padding to the bathroom in the middle of the night and being completely incapable of doing it quietly. Or maybe Becca was checking on the kids. Something alerted me. Or maybe it was a dream. I couldn’t remember what I’d been dreaming.
I waited, listening to the darkness, and heard nothing.
I let out a slow breath and dropped back against the pillow. I stared at the ceiling. My heartbeat slowed. I closed my eyes and willed myself back under. It was a ghost. Before, when I’d woken up in the middle of the night for no rhyme or reason, I told myself it was Mom saying hello. I didn’t remember where I’d heard that, but it brought me comfort.
Maybe she was popping in to tell me she saw Colt hanging out with the family and approved. I liked that idea. I smiled and felt myself drifting back to sleep.
Then I heard it again.
A scrape. Something against the outer wall of the house. Not the settling of old wood. Not my mom saying hello. The sound was definitely corporeal. Maybe a mouse? A raccoon? I sat up in bed, heart returning the breakneck speed and my stomach doing dangerous things.
I turned my head toward the window. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting to see. The curtain shifted slightly with the breeze from the ceiling fan. I’d left the window cracked before bed, the way I always did in summer. The night air was too good to shut out completely.
