Jo put a hand on one of the thick trunks and looked up. She could swear she saw the faint flickering of dotted orange wings swaying in the morning breeze. The ocean waves crashed into the shoreline far below, and while she was too far from the cliff’s edge to feel the spray of the water, she could smell the intoxicating freshness that only came from nature. For miles in each direction the trees spread, outlining the construction site with their own determined if not manicured formation. Looking back down the trail she’d taken, she could see the trees were less dense from this angle and that during the day, the view that visitors would have would be stunning.
Atmosphere, especially in regards to a project like this, was as important as the structure itself. It was a point of pride that she’d been entrusted with overseeing its completion. She had mere weeks to make a miracle of timing happen.
“Okay, Jo.” She finished her breakfast, took one last lingering look at the ocean stretched out before her. There would be plenty of time to admire the view later. “Time to get to work.”
Her sneakers crunched in the dirt and rocks as she returned to the construction trailer. When she pulled open the door, she inhaled the familiar dusty, warm air of a claustrophobic office that welcomed her at every job. Butterfly Harbor was no different inside these walls than Seattle had been. Or Dallas or Louisville or Charlotte.
She’d spent most of yesterday digging through the paperwork and files inside the trailer that was about the same size as her house on wheels, yet it felt smaller. The solitary desk had only one name plaque. “Gil Hamilton.” Of course. Jo picked up the mayor’s bronze nameplate and set it down again. Leah had warned her Mayor Hamilton was one of those hands-on politicians who needed—no, make that expected—to know precisely what was going on with whatever projects his office was responsible for.
Her friend had made it sound like a negative trait, but Jo wasn’t so sure. It made sense, given that this project was the mayor’s baby from day one, that he’d want to stay on top of things. Whether that made him deserving of the only desk in the compact office was another thing entirely.
Clearly this would warrant a discussion.
The second her pen finished scribbling a reminder note, she heard the sound of tires grinding over gravel. She stood up as quickly as she could, walked over to the window and twisted open the dusty venetian blinds. The classic black car with tinted windows possessed a shine that spoke of attention to detail and a whole lot of money. The driver climbed out, his sandy blond hair catching against the morning sunlight.
Jo took in the flashy car, the styled haircut, the pressed chinos and shirt, as well as the designer loafers that had no business being anywhere near a construction site, let alone on one. Only one person that could be.
She returned to the desk, flipped the notepad open, put a checkmark next to “contact the mayor” on her list, then went to the door.
“Mayor Hamilton?” she called.
He skidded to a halt and seemed to take a moment before he turned around, a polite expression on his face. “Ms. Bertoletti?”
Nuts. Jo kept her face passive. He’d known she was a woman. “Jo, please.” She waved him over. “I had just made a note to call you. Come on in.” She let the door drop closed behind her and headed to the anemic coffee machine wedged into a space on top of a metal file cabinet. “Coffee?” she asked when he joined her.
“Sure, thanks. Even if I am already over my quota for the day.” He stood just inside the door. “I was surprised to hear you arrived early. Sorry I didn’t stop by yesterday to welcome you to town.” Jo turned to hand him a paper cup of pod-produced caffeine. “I was caught up—” His eyes scanned up and down, catching on her rounded stomach, before his gaze popped back up to her face. She could practically hear the questions screaming through his brain. “Ah. Congratulations.” He accepted the cup and drank, winced, drank some more. “When’s the baby due?”
“October. Don’t worry,” she said as if he had started to speak. “Being pregnant won’t get in the way of my job. Let’s sit, shall we?” She gestured to the desk.
If he was thrown off kilter by her moving to take a seat behind it, he didn’t show it. Instead, he waited until she was settled, then emptied one of the straight back chairs, shifting the papers and folders, and sat across from her.
“I wasn’t aware you were married.”
“I’m not.” If he was waiting for her to explain, he’d be waiting all day. “So. We’ve got a lot to do.” She retrieved her notepad and pen. “Why don’t we start by talking about our expectations for one another. I’ll start.” She plowed ahead before he could argue. “I’m going to make sure everything with this project runs smoothly from here on out. I’m not here to assign blame for what happened, but I will be looking into that situation as we move forward, if only to ensure the same mistakes aren’t made again. This project is now my responsibility. The successes, the failures, it’s all on my shoulders. That I’m sure will be a relief for you.”
“I’ve got a lot riding on this butterfly sanctuary.”
Honesty. That was a good start.
“Then I’ll only have to ask you for one thing. Your trust.” She kept her eyes locked on his. “I’m good at my job, Mr. Mayor.”
“Gil,” he said. “And I have no doubt that you are. Leah wouldn’t have recommended you otherwise. She’s...fastidious when it comes to the details.”
Jo would bet that was grudging admiration she heard in his voice, and she appreciated the apt description of her friend. “I don’t take her endorsement lightly. If anything, it makes me even more determined to do this job right. But we’re starting from the ground up, so to speak. I understand there’s some question about your foreman returning. What can you tell me about Jed Bishop?” She clicked open her pen, ready to take notes.
“You want my take on him?”
“I want your take on all the employees. You’ve been managing the project very closely, haven’t you? I’d appreciate any insight you can give me.” Names in a file were one thing. Personality, impressions, anecdotes added a whole other layer to her future relationship with these employees. “The more information I have from the jump, the better I can keep the ball rolling. And it will be rolling. If that means we take it to six days a week, we’ll do it.”
“Six days a...” Surprise jumped into his gaze, quickly followed by disbelief. “That’s not possible. We’re using a union crew. Six days—”
“Having negotiated on behalf of construction unions in the past, I can assure you I’m well aware of what we can make happen. We’d create two teams and give time and a half for Saturdays to those who want the positions. It’ll be a choice, not an ultimatum, and this is merely a backup plan. If we don’t get enough to cover both teams, then I’ll be bringing in some workers I know from the Bay Area.”
“If you need outside help, I’ve got contacts—”
“No offense, Mr. Mayor. Uh, Gil,” she corrected and pounced on the opportunity to get the ground rules established. “But this isn’t your project. The sanctuary might have been your idea, but that’s where things should have stopped. It’s the town’s project and the town has hired me. Whatever position you held previously, honorary or otherwise, around here it’s over. The hirings, firings, schedules, pay, union negotiations, you name it, that’s all my job. You will not be signing another piece of paper or giving another order where the sanctuary and education center is concerned.” She stood up, retrieved the name plaque and handed it to him. “That means you won’t be needing a desk in this office any longer.”
Gil looked at the metal plate in his hand, and for the first time, Jo found herself unable to decipher his expression. She’d done her homework; she knew he was a lifelong resident of Butterfly Harbor, and in reading his bio on the town website, she had no doubt he was used to getting his own way.
“Since you’ve requested my trust and you’ve led with
it, I’m going to be honest with you, as well, Jo.”
“Excellent.” She sat and cracked open her water, drank to coat her dry mouth. “Go for it.”
“Trust is earned. Especially with this project. I’ve sunk too much of the city funds into this sanctuary already, and to be honest, if it wouldn’t cost a fortune to walk away from it, I would. To call it a money pit is an understatement.”
“A pit is what you fall into when you approve contracts with substandard suppliers,” Jo countered. She’d seen the invoices and paperwork. Jed Bishop hadn’t signed off on anything more than his crew’s paychecks. Gil had done all the final negotiations. But until she had proof Leah’s gut was right—that Gil was unaware of the shoddy and shady deal he’d made—Jo wasn’t ruling any nefarious activity out. “It’s going to cost more to get us back up and running, and you’re looking at what I’m estimating is a good twenty percent overage on the estimated cost of construction.”
“Twenty—”
“Estimated,” Jo said again. “My goal is to bring the project in as close to the original budget as possible. I’ve got a pretty good success streak going, and I’m not about to change that for anything. I’m good at my job, remember,” she repeated. “Whether you trust me or not, you’ll have to believe that. Now.” She took a seat at Gil’s former desk and grabbed one of the stacks of files she’d made yesterday. “How about we start with the employee files?”
* * *
BY THE TIME Gil left a few hours later, Jo was feeling much better about where things stood, not only with the mayor, but also with the project and her prospects for moving ahead.
Gil’s optimism in regard to the crew initially came off as a bit unrealistic. At least until she’d reached out to the crew members herself. It took only a few conversations to feel her own positivity settle in. By the time she’d made her way through the list, she had a full crew ready to come in and begin construction first thing Wednesday morning. Her issuing a mandatory employee meeting Monday morning at 6:00 a.m. hadn’t earned her many raves, but the occasional grumble had reaffirmed her original belief that this crew wasn’t as perfect as she’d been led to believe and gave her a more familiar frame of mind.
She’d hope for the best, plan for and expect the worst, and be happy if reality landed somewhere solidly in between.
Feeling as if she’d made a good dent in her preparations, she gave herself the rest of the day off. Besides, it was half past noon, and with her fridge bordering on bare, she was ready to find something to eat. By going into town she could also scope out the bank so she’d know where to submit the paperwork to add herself as a signatory on the project’s bank account.
She grabbed her cell and returned to her house for her keys. She considered taking her truck, but she was still feeling those kinks and tight muscles from the drive as well as the hours she’d spent hunched over the desk. Plus, the walk would justify whatever yummy food she decided to treat herself to.
There was, she discovered as she meandered through the residential streets, an unexpected calm that descended on her. She’d memorized the layout of the town and had a pretty good idea where she was going, but there was a world of difference between a map and an actual place. She soon learned there was no getting lost. All she had to do was follow the intoxicating, seductive scent of that wondrous ocean that seemed to reach up and roar protectively around the entire town, even from a distance.
Beneath the seagull cries and the breeze whipping against her ears, she could hear the telltale sounds of Saturday as she wandered past homes. People were catching up on the yard work or puttering around. She encountered more than a few garage sales that had better attendance than any she’d ever encountered before.
There was something a bit out of the past in this town, Jo realized as she admired the many homes with their manicured and sometimes very festive yards. Pinwheels spun and glinted against the early-afternoon sun. Thick color-topped bushes of poppies and snapdragons dotted fence lines and divided properties. One yard in particular was filled with a collection of metal animal statuary that made it look as if they’d broken out of their storybook zoo to take up residence at the almost cottage-like house. Most homes displayed stone bird baths, landing places for bees and butterflies to take a break and drink beneath the sun.
She’d often heard but never understood the phrase charming when it came to places like this, but she did now. The way the neighbors moved fluidly between homes, the way kids rode their bikes and skateboards in the street under the watchful eyes of family and friends made more than an impression. It gave her a glimpse of what she, as someone who had grown up in and around some of the biggest cities in the country, had missed out on.
She stopped at the corner of each block, taking in the various architectural details, getting her bearings, and memorizing street names and landmarks. She was going to be here at least until October. Best she get her bearings sooner than later.
After a half mile she stopped to admire the scene. It didn’t take her much more than getting another glimpse of waves lapping against the shore down the hill and beyond the stone retaining wall to understand why Leah had decided to make her home here. There was something soothing about this almost laid-back rhythm of life. She wondered how long it would take for boredom and frustration to set in. It was as if she’d stepped into an old TV sitcom where everything and everyone were...well, simply weren’t possible.
As she reached town, her attention shifted. Storefronts filled the first floors of two-story buildings. Cute little antiques and homemade-goods stores. A comic book shop. An art gallery, photography studio. A music shop with a display of multicolored ukuleles caught her attention. Her musical abilities had never been tested, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t longed to learn to play an instrument.
“I’ll give you fifty for it right now.”
Jo’s ears perked at the sound of a familiar male voice. She scanned the street for the owner of the voice and caught sight of Ozzy’s dark SUV parked in front of On a Wing, the town thrift store.
“Fifty? Ozzy, seriously, this piece of junk isn’t worth half that.”
“It is to me.”
Intrigued, Jo crossed the street in time to see a middle-aged man hauling a rusted, dinged-up bicycle out of the back of his truck. “Don’t know what you think you can do with it,” the man grumbled as he handed it over. “I was just going to toss it in the trash.”
“I’m going to restore it,” Ozzy announced as he pulled out his wallet. His face brightened when he caught sight of Jo. “Hi. Out and about today, then?”
“Thought I’d see this town Leah’s been bragging about.” Jo cast a wary glance at the bike. “Couldn’t help overhear. I’m Jo Bertoletti,” she introduced herself to Ozzy’s disbelieving salesman.
“Irving Drummond.” The silver-haired man offered his hand. He wore faded jeans and a large red flannel shirt over his white tee. Big, bushy brows made a vee over narrowed eyes. “Bertoletti? You’d be the new foreman up at the construction site.”
“Supervisor.” She didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. She wasn’t here to take anyone’s job. Just to make sure everyone was doing theirs. “I’ve been walking around a bit, getting the feel for things. Thought maybe I’d have lunch down at the beach.”
“Perfect day for it. Hang on a second.” Ozzy handed Irving some cash. “Here’s fifty.”
Irving turned his suspicious gray eyes on Ozzy. “Never known you to ride a bike, Oz. You branching out to repair work?”
“Nah.” He looked almost longingly at the bike listing against the wall as if desperately trying to stay upright. “It’s for Charlie.”
“Little Charlie Bradley?” Irving’s back went ramrod straight. “Well, why didn’t you say so?” He held up his hands and backed away from the money. “I’m not taking that. Especially not for a hunk of junk.”
“You hauled it off the old
Pickering place, didn’t you? I recognize that rusted-out wagon back there, not to mention that picnic table and old porch furniture.”
Jo was curious, so she stepped around to peer into the back of the pickup truck. It was packed so tight she could barely make out what was what. “Is all this for sale?” she asked.
“Some of it will be. Still have to go through it. And this is just the first load.”
She spotted a few pieces that caught her attention. “I’ll buy whatever outdoor furniture you have.”
Irving’s brows knit. “You two working some kind of double-team action?”
Jo smiled. “Happy coincidence. The weather’s supposed to be pretty amazing for the foreseeable future. I’d like to set up an outdoor eating area for the construction crew. I hear a food truck comes by every day, is that right?”
“True. Alethea Costas with Flutterby Wheels,” Ozzy told her. “It’s part of Jason Corwin’s restaurant, Flutterby Dreams, up at the inn. It’s casual gourmet.”
She’d seen mention of the truck in the office notes. “A crew needs someplace to sit.” She did a quick estimation and threw out a number to Irving for the outdoor furniture that was well below the budget she’d set. It would cost three times as much to rent what she’d first planned. This way the money went back into the community, and when the project was finished, they could pass the pieces along to people who wanted them. “How much extra to deliver?”
“For that price, I’ll throw it in for free.” Irving looked as if he’d hit the jackpot. “You want it today?”
“I wouldn’t say no.” She could spend tomorrow cleaning it all up and figuring out where to arrange the pieces. Something to add to her Monday list of things for her crew to do. “Just leave it by my house and I’ll sort through it when I get home.”
Building a Surprise Family Page 5