Sheri raised her chin and glared at him. She had no intention of leaving and the man’s condescending tone and the fact that he insisted on calling them girls irked her. But what really made her angry was the fact that he was standing in the way of uncovering something of huge historical significance. “Don’t patronize us. And we’re not girls, so I suggest you get someone down here now!” she said. The tone of her voice was unmistakable. She meant business. He nodded and smiled again as he pulled out his cell phone and made a call. Moments later a woman approached dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, a lightweight jacket with a company logo and carrying a hard hat with her cell phone to her ear. She hung up as soon as she neared them.
“Hi, I’m Tamika Smith, the development’s operations assistant. How can I help you?” she said, friendly enough.
“Yes, hi, I hope so. My name is Sheri Summers and this is my assistant, Genie Hopkins.” They shook hands. “We’re with the Crescent Island Museum and Smithsonian Institution. I believe you found some items this morning that may be of significant historical value.”
“Historical value? Here? No, you must be mistaken,” she said, self-assuredly.
“I don’t think so,” Sheri said firmly.
“We’re in the process of finalizing this development site. If something had been uncovered, we would have certainly found it months ago and contacted the proper authorities.”
“I believe this was found in a new location.”
“The secondary site?” she asked with added interest. “Did someone from the site contact you?” Tamika asked.
“In a manner of speaking, yes. Photos were sent to the museum.”
“Okay, hold on. Let me check with our on-site manager,” she called someone and repeated what Sheri had just told her. She stepped away out of earshot and continued her conversation.
Genie leaned over to Sheri. “I had no idea this place was so big. It’s huge and it looks like they’re almost done.”
Sheri nodded as she looked around. Genie was right. The site was a lot larger than she’d expected. Of course she knew about the huge construction project. Everybody on the island knew. For a while Hamilton’s real estate development had created a huge rift in the community. After a few minutes the woman turned back around to face them.
“Okay, Ian Parker, the on-site manager, will meet you at the office trailers. He’s tied up at the moment, but you can wait for him. Follow me.”
“Thank you,” Sheri said as she and Genie followed her through the entrance to the construction site. Teetering on her high heels, she meandered her way through the puddles and mud around the largest building being constructed on the site, and continued until they reached a paved open space. They were headed toward what looked like oversize trailers parked at the opposite end of the site. As they walked, Sheri looked across at the main building. To her surprise the development was a lot further along than she’d expected. The roof had been completed and the windows had been framed in place. Bricklayers were perched upon scaffolding beside the concrete that formed the outside walls. It appeared that work had begun on the interior, with flooring piled high in front of the building. Tamika led them to a large trailer. As they climbed the steps to the entrance, Tamika knocked and opened the door, ushering them inside.
“Okay, you can wait in here. Ian will be with you as soon as he can.”
Sheri and Genie took a seat. They waited and waited, and after thirty-five minutes Sheri’s patience was quickly running out, not that she had much to begin with. “This is ridiculous,” she said, now that she was beyond being aggravated. “We’ve been more than patient.”
Genie pulled out her cell phone and began texting. “I just texted my boyfriend. He’s on his way to show us to the site. He said to just follow him and pretend like we don’t know him,” she added.
They went outside. A few minutes later Jamie arrived. He walked past them without speaking, not wanting to jeopardize his job. Sheri and Genie followed far enough behind him so as not to raise suspicion. He led them to a remote area of land closer to the beach. There were a few men standing around looking into the engine compartment of a backhoe.
Sheri and Genie walked up to the small incline of dirt. There was a pile of debris, overgrowth and dead wood tossed to the side. They walked over to inspect it more closely. Sheri bent down and examined the small fragment. The wood still showed signs of even cuts resembling floor planks.
“They look like plank fragments, right?” Genie said over her shoulder. Sheri nodded then stood up. They turned and looked down at the small crater near the backhoe.
It was exactly like the images Genie’s boyfriend had sent them. The water was still being suctioned out and what looked like the remnants of a ship’s hull were plainly visible along with something else. Genie grabbed Sheri’s arm. “Look over there in the hole. There it is. It really is a ship’s bell. And there, see, it’s upside down. It says s-c-e-n-t.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what it looks like.” Sheri smiled. A bubble of excitement swelled inside her. She felt almost giddy. “The inscription on the outside bell is still partially concealed, but…” She bent down to get a better look. “Okay. We need to take pictures and get samples to verify carbon dating and we’ll definitely need to examine the bell in a more controlled environment.” She pulled out her camera and started taking pictures.
“All right, let’s see if we got this thing going now,” someone called out behind them. Genie stood and turned around to see what was happening. The three men standing around at the backhoe stepped away. The one man who had been working on the backhoe closed the top of the engine compartment, grabbed his work gloves from his back pocket and put them on. He climbed back up into the cab of the truck.
“Give him some room,” one of the men said. Everyone stepped back. “Sheri,” Genie began, “I think they’re about to…”
Sheri turned. Just then a man sitting in the cab of the huge backhoe started the engine and shifted gears. The giant shovel roared to life and lurched in the direction of the hole. The men standing around stood back anticipating what would happen next. Sheri’s heart jumped. She knew, too. “No, no, no, stop!” she called out, stepping in front of the huge machine just as it raised its massive arm. The man driving stopped, cut the engine and jumped out.
“What the hell are you doing? Are you crazy, lady? Somebody, get this woman out of here.” Nobody moved.
Genie hurried to Sheri’s side. “You can’t do this. You might be destroying history,” she said.
“Great, now there are two of them. All right, somebody get security out here now. Look ladies, I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but this is a work site. You need to leave now.”
“We’re not going anywhere. Can’t you see what you’re about to destroy?” Genie protested passionately. “Look, look what you’re about to demolish.” Everybody looked into the hole at the wet sand, silt and sludge, and the rotted wooden planks.
“Ladies, whoever you are…”
“We’re from the Crescent Island Museum representing the Smithsonian Institution. You need to stop what you’re doing right now and I need to speak to someone in authority.”
“Lady, there’s only one person who tells me to stop digging and he’s not here.”
“Fine, who is he,” she said.
“Jordan Hamilton,” Genie’s boyfriend said, walking up to the small gathering of workers. Seeing and hearing him, Genie smiled proudly.
“I’d like to speak with him,” Sheri said.
“He’s not here,” someone in the crowd said.
“He’s a busy man, he doesn’t come in on Mondays,” the man at the backhoe began.
“And I’m a busy woman,” Sheri said, directing her attention back to the man sitting at the machine controls. “If he’s not here get someone else.”
“Lady, look, whatever’s down there, I’m digging it up and right now you’re in the way of me doing my job. That means you need to move, now!” He climbed into the carriage of the backh
oe. She didn’t move. He glared at her and waited. Then, seeing that she had no intention of moving, he nodded to one of the men standing around. “Get somebody out here now.”
Chapter 2
Jordan Hamilton’s perfectly ordered life had been upset. Everything was going wrong today. He parked at the far end of the lot, got out of his truck and slammed the driver’s-side door so hard the glass shook. He barely glanced back to see if it had shattered. If it had, he really didn’t care one way or the other. He’d had enough of this place and the people. Usually good-humored by nature, he seldom let anything stress him out. But that was before. Now, for some reason, this job had turned into a quagmire and every little thing was a major hassle. Add to that, the clock was ticking on the project. His deadline was tight. He was running out of time, and running out of patience even more quickly.
This was another wasted trip. He walked around to the passenger’s side, grabbed the tube of blueprints and his briefcase off the seat and slammed the passenger door, too. He was furious. He’d spent the morning going head-to-head with Nolan Chambers, the chairman of the supervisory committee and dealing with inane questions, ludicrous suggestions and absurd requests. All of it added up to another wasted day.
That was the part of the job he despised. His brothers, Julian and Darius, were far better at the politicking thing than he was, and they both had the kind of people skills—the knack for schmoozing—that he didn’t. Either way, this definitely wasn’t what he needed to do right now. He’d been dodging, sidestepping and trying to avoid nearly impossible obstacles since he’d been working on the project.
After a two-month delay and a number of unforeseen work stoppages, he’d finally gotten the permits and cleared inspections and final approvals he needed to move on to the next phase. The project was still two weeks behind, and if weather began to change, he’d have to halt work again. And he couldn’t afford that. Bottom line, this job was costing a fortune and it had turned into a nightmare.
Ultimately he was working against time, and every day the project was delayed cost him more money. He didn’t need unnecessary distractions. More importantly, he’d had enough dealing with the city council and all its rules and regulations. They were wasting his time. He needed to be on site overseeing construction when he was on the island and not babysitting and pandering to know-nothing politicians.
He took a deep breath and released it slowly, knowing he needed to calm down. Aggravation and distractions were how on-site accidents happened. He’d already had one; he didn’t need another. He needed to get his focus back on the job. He looked around. It was a gorgeous day. After the past few days of rain, it was good to see the sun shining. At least that was in his favor, he thought. He wasn’t sure how many days like this he’d have left.
Jordan pulled out his cell phone to check his messages and then realized it was still turned off from the city council meeting in town earlier. He turned it back on and saw that he’d missed several calls and messages including two from his brothers and one from the on-site manager, Ian Parker.
He called his brothers. Both calls went directly to voice mail. He started walking toward the main entrance of the Hamilton Development site. As soon as he neared the gate he saw that Cleveland, head of site security, usually stationed at the entrance at all times, wasn’t there. He had been brought over from the main office because he was loyal and never shirked his responsibilities. There was no way he’d just up and leave his post without a good reason.
As he walked he checked the rest of his phone messages. There were several calls and email messages from vendors and suppliers, including the landscaper he’d been playing phone tag with for the past three days. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath as he realized he’d missed the one call he’d been expecting. He called Ian on his cell phone’s walkie-talkie feature as he headed to the trailer.
“Yo.” Ian’s voice came through loud and clear.
“I’m on-site,” Jordan said.
“On a Monday?” Ian asked.
“Yeah, I had to be at a Crescent Island City Council meeting this morning.”
Ian chuckled knowing Jordan hated dealing with politicians. “How’d that go?” he asked, knowing the answer.
“Exactly as I expected, it was a huge waste of my time,” Jordan said.
Ian chuckled again. “Yeah, well, like you said, you expected as much. Still you had to go. You’re the face of Hamilton Development here on the island and that means playing nice with the local politicians.”
“Actually what it means is another wasted day and wasting more of my time,” he said as he loosened his tie and then waved at a passing worker.
“Well, it could have been worse.”
“How’s that,” Jordan asked.
“You could still be there,” Ian said, chuckling.
Jordan smiled and shook his head. “Yeah, right,” he said sarcastically. “Actually, I doubt they’ll be asking to see me anytime soon.”
“Why’s that?” Ian asked.
“Let’s just say we had an exhaustive discussion on my time management and the cost effectiveness of my having to constantly meet with them.”
“You spoke your mind,” Ian surmised.
“I made a few things perfectly clear.”
“How’d that go over?”
“As expected, but one good thing is I managed to get them to bump up final approval to start the next phase. They’re going to review the proposal next week.”
“Now that is good news,” Ian said.
“Yeah, it should cut a few weeks off the back end. We might just be able to bring this project in on time,” Jordan said, not sounding as confident as he should.
“That’ll work. I don’t see a problem.”
“Unfortunately, I missed the landscaper’s call earlier.”
“Yeah, I know. They called me when they couldn’t reach you in the office or on your cell. I told them what we talked about yesterday. They don’t have a problem with it as long as the weather holds out and we don’t fall too far behind.”
“Good, thanks. Where are you now?” Jordan asked.
“I’m on the third floor of the main building. I just finished triple-checking the electrical wiring. The inspectors just left.”
“How’d we do?”
“We’re good to go. Everything looks good, no problems. I’m headed down with the paperwork now.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you at the trailer in a few minutes. I gotta get out of this suit and into some real clothes,” he said as he walked across the main grounds to the row of trailers.
“Heads up, we have visitors on site.”
“What visitors?” Jordan asked cautiously. “Tamika didn’t tell me we were having visitors today.”
“I believe they were unplanned. Tamika told me that two women from the local museum are here. They’re waiting at the trailer.”
“What do they want? A donation or something?” he asked.
“Don’t know.”
“All right, I’ll deal with it,” Jordan said just as he stepped out onto the wooden deck outside the trailer. He stopped and looked around at the activity on the work site surrounding him. This was his element. Construction was in his blood. He looked up at the main structure. Although it was not nearly complete, the building was certainly taking shape.
What was once a run-down hotel was now well on its way to becoming a profitable corporate resort. He nodded his approval as he looked at the facade of bricks that covered the face of the structure. Seeing his creation come to fruition always gave him a feeling of accomplishment. He looked up at the sun then back down again, appreciating the way the beam of sunlight played across the building exterior. The rays of sunlight twinkled as they bounced off the building’s large glass windows, a detail that had been part of his design, which was meant to be carefully integrated into its natural setting. In Jordan’s mind he imagined the finished structure, and it was perfection.
This was why he became an architect. Af
ter spending several years with a Los Angeles architectural firm and now working with his brothers, he had honed his design skills to perfection. Each building he worked on had its own unique appeal. Some were simple structures, while others were massive edifices designed to take your breath away. But this one was different. This was the Hamilton brothers’ project from beginning to end. He and Julian had scouted locations. Darius had purchased the land and gotten the financing. But it was Jordan who was in charge and bringing their vision to life.
Several workers waved as he passed by. Jordan returned the friendly greetings. These were the men and women he related to best. They worked with their hands and created something out of nothing. He arrived at the trailer and went inside. He looked around. There was no one there. Apparently the visitors had decided to leave. He dropped his briefcase on the desk then went to the large drawing table and pulled the rolled-up plans from the tube. He spread them out and looked them over for the thousandth time. He knew where every brick, pane of glass and screw would be set. He was proud of this building and knew this was only the beginning. What started out as a small hotel turned into a resort and then finally into the Hamilton Resort Complex.
He changed his clothes in his private room in the back of the trailer and then returned to the drawing table. As soon as he pulled out the blueprints for the electrical, his cell phone rang. He looked at the caller ID then picked up. “Hello, Mrs. Gates,” he said cordially.
“Hello, Jordan, now you’ve been here on Crescent Island for months. I think it’s high time you call me Mamma Lou, don’t you? Your brothers do, everybody else does, and I insist.”
“Of course, Mamma Lou, what can I do for you?”
“That’s better. Now, I’m just calling to remind you of the small gathering up at the house this weekend for the Gates Heritage Foundation. Remember, it’s very informal, nothing big and fancy. It’s just members of the foundation and of course my very close friend, Camille Rantone. She’s an incredible storyteller and folklorist and definitely someone you should know. And since you’re here on Crescent Island all by yourself, I thought you might like to join us. I can promise you some good home cooking and a very entertaining evening.”
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