Under a Firefly Moon

by Donna Kauffman

  Chey smiled with her, but she was also worried for her friend. Vivi was smart, sharp, and had no problem holding her own, but she hadn’t been in the dating world for quite some time. Then something else Vivi had said popped back to mind. “Wait, did you say ‘after he dries out’?” Chey’s eyebrows narrowed. “I’m assuming you don’t mean he had too much champagne.”

  When Vivi merely smoothed a nonexistent wisp of hair from her forehead, unapologetic mirth brimming in her expression, Chey found herself once again looking at Wyatt, as if for confirmation that she wasn’t wrong in assuming Vivi was saying what they both knew she was saying.

  “Man overboard?” Wyatt prompted.

  “In so many words,” Vivi said, then twirled her parasol, making Chey splutter a laugh after her mouth had dropped wide open.

  “What did he do?” Chey wanted to know, worry creeping back in once the shock wore off. She frowned and closed the distance between them. “Are you okay? Did he—”

  Vivi’s expression sobered some then as she waved off the question. “He . . . drew some inappropriate conclusions, regarding my former occupation on stage, and that’s all I’ll say. I’m perfectly fine.”

  Chey nodded, accepting her friend’s discretion, but that didn’t stop her from worrying. “And so you, what, invited him to swim back to shore?” She tried to imagine Vivienne telling the wealthiest man in Blue Hollow Falls to take a dive, and him actually doing it. What on earth could he have said or done for that to be the only option? And one he’d taken, apparently. Then another thought occurred to her. “Wait, did you . . . you didn’t push him over, did you? Not that he wouldn’t have deserved it for . . . whatever it was he said or did, but—”

  “Let’s just say money doesn’t buy class,” Vivi said. “I found him to be somewhat insulting. No, make that highly insulting. So, I asked him to return us to shore. He thought he could cajole his way back into my good graces.” She smiled evenly. “He discovered he was mistaken.”

  “And . . . he just jumped overboard and swam back to shore because you politely asked him to?” Chey wouldn’t have pressed, but she decided she needed to know the particulars, because she doubted someone of Hammond’s stature in the community, not to mention his very deep pockets, was going to take an embarrassment such as this without some pushback, be it verbal or legal. Likely both. Chey wanted to have some idea what they might be up against.

  “Actually, he might have had a bit of, shall we say, extra encouragement.” She closed her parasol, aimed it at the dock, and pushed a hidden button on the handle. A long, slender blade popped out of the other end.

  Chey was so surprised by the maneuver, she took a quick step back and was saved from going off the dock entirely by Wyatt’s quick reflexes. He caught her by the elbow and propelled her forward. Right up close and into his personal space. Not intentionally, but intentions didn’t matter. Her body’s immediate reaction to said personal space did.

  “Thanks,” she said, then eased away from him and turned to look at the umbrella more closely while she pulled herself back together.

  “One of my favorite props, kept from Broadway days,” Vivi said, somewhat cheerfully, before zipping the blade right back into the umbrella tip. “I never thought I’d have reason to use the thing. Honestly, though, the joke was also on me. If I was hoping to make a bit of public spectacle, that backfired.” She gestured to their surroundings. “You need an actual public to make that happen. And he did make his point, which was that this beautiful park and lake have become a drain rather than a draw for the town. Even so, I’ve been trying to dissuade the town fathers from the path they want to take, the one Paul proposed. But as one of only three female chamber of commerce members, and the only one who has been attending recent meetings, I’ve realized that they’re a good old boys club with little respect for women entrepreneurs. Or women in general, I’d say.”

  “Maybe you need to take your parasol there to the next council meeting,” Wyatt said.

  “I’m tempted,” Vivi replied. “As it stands, Addie Pearl, Hattie Beauchamp, and I are the only female members. All women of a certain age who were raised to understand the importance of civic engagement. What I need is for more of the women who run their own businesses—young and old—which account for over half of the artisans at the mill, to show up to these things. Addie’s been trying, but honestly, I think she’s grown weary of being outnumbered and outmaneuvered and has turned her energies to trying to improve the town directly through growing the artisans’ guild and making a success of the mill. And she’s doing a great job. Hattie is there when she can be, but running that restaurant doesn’t always allow her to attend at the times Mayor Fielding schedules these things. We need to make our voices heard in greater numbers—all the business owners, men and women—so loudly that we’re taken more seriously by those old boys. As well we should since it is our endeavors that are the driving force behind the current revenue stream.”

  “And aye, there’s the rub,” Chey said, as the big picture became clearer.

  Vivi nodded. “The mill and the new music center have been an overwhelming success. The wedding venue Seth added to his winery, the cidery Mabry’s family is building to go along with his apple farm, and our farm, new as it is, are all doing well and bringing in much needed tourism revenue, but they aren’t drawing people to the other, older town amenities.”

  “Meaning the services owned by most of those good old boys,” Chey said. “Like Tremaine’s tax and accounting, Larry Moyes’s dry cleaner. Winston’s jewelry store.”

  “The bank, the mercantile, the hardware store,” Vivi added, nodding. “Yes, yes, and yes. And that’s definitely a big motivator for them in their decision-making process, though they claim, of course, that they are there to serve the needs of all the citizens of Blue Hollow Falls, not simply themselves.” She sighed. “But I look around out here and it’s hard to deny they have a point about the park being a liability rather than an asset. I know it’s not peak season, but according to the council, this place used to be a draw year-round, and they have the photos to prove it. The nature center is always a draw, but the mayor said they’ve had to close it for the past three winters. Used to be folks wanted the local photographers to come take pictures here for weddings, family Easter portraits this time of year when everything is in bloom.” She gestured with her hand. “You can see that is no longer the case. Not even a random hiker came through here today, and these are supposed to be world class trails. Some go all the way up to Hawk’s Nest Ridge, but the town has let maintaining them go by the wayside and they’re not properly marked any longer. There aren’t enough park rangers to make hiking in the back country between the lake and the ridge safe anyway, from what I hear.”

  “The park and trails, the lake, aren’t really a huge revenue stream for the area, though, are they?” Chey said. “Except for renting paddleboats and such, access is free, right?”

  Vivi looked back to them and nodded. “Yes, it is, and no, it’s not directly a revenue stream, but it’s always been a solid indicator of tourism. And the council is saying that the lack of people coming out here to enjoy the lake area is part of what’s negatively impacting the town.”

  “Because that means fewer people shopping and otherwise using the town amenities.”

  Vivi nodded. “The population of Blue Hollow Falls, in and of itself, isn’t big enough to support all those businesses. It doesn’t help that a lot of the locals go down to Turtle Springs and do their shopping there. Combine that with the fact that most of the tourists spend time out at the winery, our farm, the mill, and don’t go into the town proper at all, and you can see the problem. So, now the council is saying that not only is it not worth spending tax dollars to maintain the park, but that there might be a better use for the land.”

  “Better use?” Chey said in disbelief. “Like what?” She gestured. “It’s a lake. It’s not like you can get rid of it.”

  “What is Hammond proposing?” Wyatt lift
ed a hand. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

  Vivi frowned. “He thinks we should sell off this property to a big, fancy resort developer who has shown interest.” She sighed. “Interest that came, I am certain, because Hammond courted it.” She looked out over the lake. “I know I may seem like an odd champion, given I spent my life in sequins and feathers, and, even now, my idea of enjoying the great outdoors is standing on the porch of my house looking out over it.” She turned back to face them. “But it’s not just about this park. It’s about the mindset of those who want to shift the focus of the town to attracting, bigger, broader commercial interests. In just the few years we’ve been here, I have come to know the people of Blue Hollow Falls, what they do, what they love. What we’ve already started building, and what Seth, Mabry, and the folks at the mill and music center are building, all of that respects the land, this place. Not corporate bottom lines and greed-motivated land grabs. Which is exactly what it will become if they start to sell out. It’s what Turtle Springs is fighting against now, and losing from the looks of it.”

  “What is this mill, the music center?” Wyatt asked.

  “One of the founding families of the Falls owned and operated a silk mill up here over a century or so ago,” Chey told him.

  Wyatt’s eyebrows lifted. “Silk mill. As in silk fabric silk?”

  She nodded. “Long history of silk production in the mid-Atlantic region back when these were colonies, not states. Anyway, the mill had long since fallen out of use when corn, cotton, tobacco, and in this area, apples became more profitable crops. A few years ago, the locals—led by Addie Pearl, who owns a chunk of the mill, and who had spent years cultivating this area as the perfect community for artisans—renovated the mill and turned it into a home for the Bluebird Guild members. The guild Addie started years ago. The various craftsmen and women, artists, and the like, had, up to then, operated separately from their own properties or small commercial spaces in town. Hannah, one of the partners out at our lavender farm, is a member of the guild. She’s a painter and has had showings at the mill.”

  “It has, by any measure, been a success,” Vivi said, picking up the story. “But it’s not just the mill. The winery owner out near us that I mentioned, Seth Brogan, married a well-known folk singer from Ireland, and she instigated and funded the building of the music center, which includes an amphitheater and stage big enough to put on a variety of different productions. It’s right next to the mill, which is set with the falls as its backdrop. Pippa—Seth’s wife—recently added a recording studio to their winery property, and more and more musicians are coming in, from all over the world, to record there. Now they also have a wedding venue, which launches officially this summer.”

  “It sounds like a really vibrant, active community,” Wyatt said. “Don’t you think if you explained what’s going on, the new business owners would join the chamber of commerce, or show up at the town council meetings?”

  She nodded. “Possibly, in the future, but that takes time, and I’m afraid this is all moving far too quickly for them to make much of an impact now.”

  “Sounds like you all need to come together to brainstorm ways to help everyone out,” Wyatt said. “Give the mayor and the council an alternate plan.”

  “I think I know the one person who could pull this together,” Chey said, a smile creasing her face. “And she might turn the tide all on her own. Addie Pearl. Have you told her what’s going on? About the resort proposal? No way would she take that news sitting down.”

  Vivi nodded. “You’re absolutely right. If anyone can get things organized, it’s Addie. No, I don’t believe she knows. The council just introduced the proposal this week, and I haven’t talked to her personally about it. The problem is, it was presented as a fait accompli. Hammond has everything lined up. All the council has to do is say yes and all the mayor has to do is sign the contracts. The whole project has quite obviously been in the works behind the scenes for some time. And I can guarantee you that Hammond has the majority council vote locked up.” She smirked. “Paul made sure to mention that he golfs regularly with three of them and how well they’ve done investing in his properties. Hammond recently got another invite to join Paul’s very exclusive country club out in Valley View. Four votes gives him the majority.” She sighed. “The mayor could overrule the vote, or table it, but it might be too late. This solution solves too many problems at once.”

  “But opens the door to the eventual complete ruin of what makes Blue Hollow Falls special,” Chey said. “They’re thinking short term. Can’t someone get the mayor to see the big picture? We have to at least try.” Chey paced the short width of the dock. “Hannah and Will could talk to Sawyer. He owns another chunk of the mill,” she told Wyatt. “They, along with Seth and Pippa, can get Mabry and his daughter on board. Addie will mobilize the guild members. We could have them all out to the farm and organize our thoughts, draw up a plan of action.”

  Vivi nodded and a spark of renewed energy replaced the note of defeat that had entered her voice. “That’s exactly the right approach.” She let out a short sigh. “I still worry that none of that is going to match up to Paul and his deep pockets and council influence. And my little stunt out here didn’t help matters any.”

  “I don’t know,” Chey said, considering. “He must view you as something of a threat if he thought he needed to wine and dine you to his way of thinking.”

  “Are you saying you don’t think it was my natural beauty and witty insouciance that led to his rather ardent pursuit of me?” Vivi twirled her parasol and batted her perfectly applied false eyelashes.

  “Reign it in, Ginger,” Chey said with a laugh. “I’m saying that while he might have been drawn to you personally—and who wouldn’t be—I’m betting there was more to his pursuit than merely getting you to go on a date. He wanted to charm you and silence the opposition at the same time. Kind of a killing two birds with one stone kind of thing.”

  “So, you’re saying he’s a player,” Vivi concluded, causing Wyatt and Chey to look at each other with a splutter of laughter.

  “Yes,” Chey said. “That would be the appropriate term. Only in this case he’s not just playing the field; he wants to own the field it’s being played on.”

  “You know, I might be able to help with that,” Wyatt said thoughtfully.

  Surprised, Chey turned to him. “How?” she asked, sincerely curious.

  He smiled then, and it was a mix of the old Wyatt and the new, both of whom packed a punch. “Let’s just say, I know a few people, too.”

  Chapter Four

  Wyatt hadn’t intended to have dinner with Chey, much less the rest of her newly collected family. Of course, he hadn’t intended to offer himself up as a possible solution to their local development issues, either. But here you are.

  Vivi had insisted he join them that evening before they’d even left the parking lot, telling Chey she expected Victoria to join them as well. In truth, he had no other immediate plans. He’d thought he was coming to Virginia to get his horse. Tory had told him she already had a place set up for Buttercup, which had been the truth. Just not the entire truth. He’d assumed that would take some time and hadn’t made specific departure plans. Yet.

  When Tory had tracked him down, he’d just been wrapping up production on his Nepal adventure. He was planning to head back to his croft near Mount Snowdon in Wales for postproduction and to plan out his next trip. He’d had several interesting offers from rural municipalities ranging from Africa to the Arctic Circle to one of the islands in the South Pacific kingdom of Tonga. Each one represented an opportunity to bring attention not only to the unique culture and challenge of an area, but, specifically, a targeted natural treasure, be it flora, fauna, or local topography that was under some kind of threat. For some, the threat was a naturally occurring ecological or environmental issue, but most often it was a direct threat from mankind.

  He hadn’t green-lighted any of them as the focus of his next li
vestream series. He had time to do more research and decide, as he had plenty of work to do organizing, editing, and repackaging the mass of videos from the Nepal adventure. He’d be putting the footage into a more traditional documentary form than usual, so the work he was doing could have a longer lasting impact. He’d blocked out several months for that, though the truth was, he could get it done sooner. He’d decided he wanted some time to step back, let the spotlight go dark for a bit. It had been a good while since he’d simply sat and let himself be.

  He knew it was a risk with the current mentality of more-more-more, now-now-now, but he’d worked hard to amass the subscribers and followers he had. In the past few years, he’d grown his platform to a point where he’d been able to set up distribution for the permanent, hard-copy content he was now creating as a result of those livestream productions. The income from those sales paid the bills and provided full-time employment to a few core crew members. All the funding they raised went to covering their expedition expenses and directly supporting the causes they were trying to help.

  He loved what he was doing, was excited about the new opportunities he was creating for himself and others, utilizing new media to draw attention to little known, but important issues.

  All told, though, he’d been going nonstop for longer than he could recall. Too long. He pulled Tory’s truck into the circular drive that fronted the main house on the Lavender Blue farm and parked there, as he’d been asked to do. He folded his arms on the steering wheel and took in the place. From this vantage point, he could see it all, from the main house to the stables and Chey’s house, the lavender fields, and then the higher peaks of the Blue Ridge Mountains, more rounded with age than their rugged, western counterparts, but equally majestic in their own right.