Normally, all of this would take a considerable amount of time and careful planning. Considering what I had seen so far, this village didn’t work well with careful planning. I guessed I’d always be flying by the seat of my pants with little planning, so long as I worked here. I tried to look on the bright side…I’d never be bored. And, I supposed, the system had also worked in my favor—I was interviewed and got the job considerably quicker than anyone expected.
I picked up the phone and dialed Mr. Bellini’s law firm. I explained what little I knew about the ordinance Marc had requested. They said they’d try to help me, and that they’d call me back.
Several hours had passed when an associate of Mr. Bellini’s called me back to inform me they had drafted an ordinance for the condemnation of the property for the next agenda and they would email it to me immediately, along with an appraisal. I printed both items out when I received the email, and was dumbfounded to see that the property to be condemned was a large oceanfront beach club in the R1 zone—worth millions. I knew the club well. My family once had a membership there, when I was a little girl. I wondered if they had already tried to negotiate with the owners of the club. They had already done an appraisal, so I deduced that this must have been in the works before I started working for the village.
I wasn’t sure why I always felt the need to analyze everything. A normal person would have done as they were told and put the ordinance on the agenda without another thought. But not me. I felt the urge to know the background about things. There was no real need for me to know, but I wanted to. Fear of being blamed for not being thorough enough was likely my motivation. Making a wrong move without having tenure in my position was another motivation.
I forwarded the email to the finance department. They would have to make sure that there was money available for the condemnation and they would have to provide me with a certification to that effect before the next meeting. I received an email back from a girl named Diana. “Are they nuts?” she wrote. “We don’t have that kind of money. I can’t certify this amount.”
I sighed. I typed back. “Bond Ordinance?”
She typed, “That’s the only option.”
I was surprised to learn that we could even bond for that amount. But, I was working in a posh area—many multi-million-dollar homes sat along the beach and the bay. The village had a value that was higher than other municipalities and a great bond rating. I sat back in my chair and pondered my next move to get things rolling. I cringed at the thought of telling Marc the news about needing a bond ordinance. A bond ordinance would take additional time, and he seemed in such a rush to get this done. I thought long and hard about how to word it so that I didn’t get screamed at again. I decided to write him an email, being the chicken that I was. I told him that the ordinance to condemn the beach club was drafted, and I attached it for his review. Then I also told him that a corresponding bond ordinance was also being prepared. I attached a copy of the bond ordinance law, which showed how a bond ordinance took longer to adopt than a regular ordinance due to something called an estoppel period, which was a period of time in which a challenge to the ordinance can be filed. An estoppel period started when the legal notice announcing the adoption of the ordinance appeared in the newspaper and it would last for twenty days. After this twenty-day period, the ordinance would go into effect. It is then that the CFO can provide that certification of funds. I asked Marc if he had any issues with the bond ordinance, to let me know.
Marc’s response to my email was, “No issues.” I took that to mean I should go forward with the bond ordinance. I called Diana back and asked her to have our bond counsel go forward with preparing the paperwork. I wasn’t sure if Marc understood that this meant the condemnation ordinance could be introduced, but not adopted until after that estoppel period, but I would deal with that later—if I had to.
I put these two new ordinances out of my head for the time being. I needed to finish the other agenda items for next week’s meeting and continue working on the mailing for the zoning ordinance. I worked on the mailing for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening—until it was time to set up for that evening’s meeting. It was good that I had asked my parents to watch my daughter until after the meeting. It gave me extra time to ensure that everything was set up properly and that the recording equipment worked.
The board members began to enter the room.
“Hi, Winifred,” I said as she strutted in with her inappropriately low-cut blouse and see-through white skirt. She snubbed me and didn’t say hello back. Marc at least gave me a nod of his shoe-polish head to acknowledge my presence. On the other hand, Joe, Aspen, and Jamie were very nice and asked me how I was making out on the job.
I noticed that Gino Righetti and Cal Zamboni entered the boardroom bearing briefcases, architectural boards, and their own portable easel. They seated themselves near the front, at the end of an aisle, presumably so they could easily maneuver themselves to set up the presentation on their project, which was going to require a change to the zoning ordinance.
Village Attorney Bellini walked into the boardroom and placed his briefcase at his seat. He then proceeded to pass out the zoning ordinance plus a map that went with it. He carefully placed each package at the proper spot for each board member. I thanked him again when he handed one to me. He reminded me that since this proposal was not included in the master plan for the village, it would need a mailing to everyone within the R1 district and everyone within two hundred feet of that district. I told him I knew and that I had started on the mailing already. To my chagrin, he informed me that he changed the ordinance slightly. That meant I had to make new copies of the ordinance, then rip open all the envelopes I had already prepared and replace the pages inside. Nothing like doing double the work. I sighed.
The meeting began. I noticed that audience members were at a bare minimum. The public wasn’t aware of what was happening yet. They would know soon enough. As soon as they received the mailing. I hated that my name was on the mailing. They’d all be calling me with complaints.
After the Pledge of Allegiance, Gino went to the microphone and started his speech while Cal set up the presentation boards. The first board showed an aerial view of the R1 zone. Gino pointed out the area where his company wanted to build. The next board showed a depiction of what seemed to be a pipe dream to me. They called it a “Village Pier,” similar to the “Pier Village” that was erected in Long Branch, New Jersey, but with the words reversed. I had to admit, I liked the Pier Village in Long Branch each time I had been there. I had eaten at great restaurants there, some of which overlooked the beach and ocean, and I had visited the unique stores and coffee shops. It was one of the few places in New Jersey where palm trees decorated the beach.
Gino proposed a long boardwalk leading up to the village amusement park. He spoke about the possibility of contemporary restaurants, high-end apartments, shopping, hotels, and even a casino. He was, by far, an incredible salesman. I marveled at the idea, but wondered how on Earth he would convince all the beachfront, mini-mansion owners to give up their properties. Perhaps he’d be offering big bucks. It had been my experience at my last job, that the mini-mansion homeowners were wealthy. And those wealthy people I had encountered had a different way of handling controversial situations. They threw money at everything. Money for attorneys, money for private investigators to dig up dirt on governing body members to hold against them, money for campaign contributions as a means of coercion. Money, money, and more money than us regular people would know what to do with. But maybe, just maybe, money would work for Gino as well. The question was, who had the bigger pockets?
I finally knew the reason to condemn the beach club. The owners probably weren’t planning on selling. It was suddenly all making sense to me. I wasn’t sure why the village would be offering to buy it, instead of letting Gino get it on his own. I wondered if there was a piece of information I was missing. Like, what was going to be located at the beach club p
roperty? Something for municipal purposes? A lifeguard station? Public restrooms? If so, what was Righetti getting out of it? Just the money to develop it? I was thoroughly confused. If it was municipally owned, I didn’t think a developer could just be hired. I would have thought the project would have to be put out to bid. Maybe Righetti would own part of it and the government would own a different part. Righetti had talked about a casino, restaurant, and hotels. Maybe he would own those things, and Coral Beach would own the beachfront and boardwalk. I had too many questions, but no answers. What was wrong with me? Why did my curiosity always get the best of me?
When the presentation was over, Marc turned to me and said, “Clerk, when will this come before us for a public hearing?”
Really? Did he really refer to me as “Clerk”? That’s fairly degrading, I thought.
“Um, March nineteenth,” I responded.
“March nineteenth? March nineteenth?!” he asked, but it was more of an exclamation than a question. He raised his voice. “Are you out of your mind?” he asked, angrily. “Why isn’t this on for next week’s agenda?”
“Um, the planning board…” I quietly said as my eyes peered downward to the floor.
“I don’t give a hoot about the planning board!” he screamed. He didn’t allow me to explain that the planning board is required to review the ordinance and that their meeting was taking place the day after our next meeting. He didn’t allow me to explain that the state laws required ten days in between the introduction and the public hearing of this ordinance, and we only had six days between meetings. He didn’t allow me to explain that the residents had to receive their notices in the mail at least ten days prior to the meeting. He didn’t allow me to explain anything!
Winifred piped up, “See, I told you she was incompetent.”
My chin hit the floor. I could not believe she said that in public. How unprofessional! My face was slowly changing from its pale, winter weather complexion to blood red. I was fuming mad! Before I could utter another syllable, Marc yelled at me again.
“You will place this on the agenda for a public hearing for the next council meeting!” he demanded.
Mr. Bellini finally interjected.
“Mr. President, if I may.”
Marc nodded at him to continue.
“Mr. President, under state statute, you have to allow the planning board to review the ordinance for compliance with the master plan. Ms. Alton, when is the planning board having their next meeting?”
“Next Thursday, March sixth,” I responded.
“Mr. President, since this ordinance is sensitive in nature, we want to make sure the proper procedures are followed, to prevent a challenge to the ordinance.”
“Fine!” Marc said. He looked like someone took his ball away from him on the playground. “Staff, schedule a special meeting for March twelfth for the public hearing.”
Jerk. I thought. I smiled with a large, fake grin and muttered through my clenched teeth. “Yes, sir,” I said.
The meeting proceeded. All five members of the board voted “yes” to introduce the zoning ordinance. No one from the public got up to make any comments, so that was a positive, but only for my own benefit of not having to sit through a long meeting. I was glad the meeting was over quickly—within a half hour. I stayed to clean up the boardroom, then returned to my office to grab my purse. I heard voices outside in the hallway. I hadn’t bothered with the lights, because I was only going to be a second. It was Marc and Gino.
“You better hold up your end of the bargain,” Gino said in a threatening tone.
“You can see that I am. My hands are tied about how quickly these things can get pushed through. There are laws,” Marc said.
“Screw your laws,” Gino said.
“I’m doing the best I can,” Marc said.
“We’ll see,” Gino said. “You know what I expect, you know what I will do, and you better deliver.”
I heard footsteps walking away. I hid in the office a while longer. I didn’t know what any of that meant, but I suddenly had the impression that Marc wasn’t pushing to get this work done of his own free will. I wondered if Gino was holding something over Marc’s head. I wondered if Vinny was mixed up in this something as well. I hoped this wasn’t anything that I would find myself caught in the middle of.
Chapter 7
I woke up the next morning and said, “TGIF!” out loud to myself. I was happy I had almost survived the first week of work. Only one day left. I got out of bed, let the dog out, took a quick shower, dressed, then made Mandy’s breakfast. I woke her up, dressed her, fed her, then loaded her into the very cold car. After I quickly scraped the ice off my windshield, I dropped Mandy off at my parents’ house. A stop at Take Ten was next on my schedule for a chai latte and an oatmeal raisin cookie. Not the best breakfast, I admitted, but warm chai and a sugar high had a way of making me feel relaxed and ready to take on the day.
I pulled into the parking lot at work, locked up my car, and headed into the office. I shrugged out of my coat, sat at my desk, put down my coffee, and took a bite of my cookie. I hit the space bar on my keyboard to wake up my sleeping screen. I typed in my password, then choked on my cookie. A shirtless Mike Nero was plastered on the screen.
“Are you okay?” Bryce asked me when he heard my coughing fit. “Do you need me to go get you a glass of water?”
“I have a drink here,” I told him. “But it’s not stiff enough. You have got to see this!”
Bryce stopped what he was doing and walked into my office. Looking over my shoulder at the computer screen, he burst into laughter.
“Is that your stalker?”
I nodded and frowned while Bryce continued to laugh. “How the heck do I get this off my screen?”
“That’s not the question I would have asked,” Bryce said. “I would have asked, how the heck did that get there?”
“I think someone must be playing a joke on me. Or maybe Nero knows our IT company? I’ll call them and ask.”
I called over to our IT company and asked them to take it down. They claimed they didn’t know how it got there. I wasn’t sure if I believed them, but what was I to do? At least they said they’d take it down right away.
I tried to erase the creepy image of shirtless Nero from my mind by diving into my daily workload, which included placing the ad and map for the zoning ordinance in the newspaper, and then stuffing envelopes. Unfortunately, when four thirty rolled around, I had to call my parents and ask them to keep Mandy. The mailing was nowhere near done and because of the ten-day deadline, technically, residents had to receive the notice by Saturday, which was tomorrow. Sunday would have actually been the tenth day prior to the next board meeting, but, as everyone knew, there was no mail delivery on Sunday. I hoped the post office would get the notices out without delay. I imagined if the mail took more than a day to arrive, there could have been challenges to the ordinance for lack of proper notification. I didn’t have a choice but to stay late to get it all done. I finally finished with everything immediately before eight o’clock. I lucked out because the last page of mailing labels were all labels for Righetti Brothers. I concluded they had already purchased numerous properties for the Village Pier project. Lucky for me, I was able to mail them one notice rather than thirty. I then drove everything over to the main post office, a few towns away, which was open until ten.
My parents called to tell me not to wake Mandy—to go home alone and get some sleep. They wanted to take her to the aquarium in Point Pleasant in the morning. I took their advice; I was exhausted! Plus, there was a beautiful vintage of merlot waiting for me at home.
* * *
That piece of paper had remained in the back of my mind since I had found it, but I didn’t tell anyone about it. I wished I had never found it. I also wished I had never overhead the conversation between Gino and Marc. I mean, I was only working for Coral Beach for a week. I couldn’t exactly go around accusing people of murder or other dirty dealings! Peopl
e who recently hired me, nonetheless. Unless, of course, it was Winifred. Technically, she didn’t hire me. She said no to my appointment. I couldn’t go to the police here; I hadn’t had time to know who could and couldn’t be trusted. I would surely be fired or even sued for slander if I went around saying anything. I had two options. I could simply forget ever finding that note or I could try to figure out on my own if there was any reason for me to be concerned, then go to the police if needed. No, not the police; someone higher. Maybe the county prosecutor. I had no idea where to start.
I decided to leave work at work today. I had invited Bonnie over for lunch. I gave her a ring. She agreed to come by around noon. I made a quick lasagna with no-boil noodles and I popped it in the oven. Since it wasn’t quite ready when Bonnie arrived, we decided to take the bottle of Concetta’s Casalinga wine from Plagido’s Winery out back. I lived in a small house on a lagoon I inherited from my Uncle Lou after he used his one-way ticket on the great cruise ship in the sky.
It was an unusually warm day for the first day of March. Spring was definitely on its way. It felt good to get outside for a change after being cooped up in the house all winter long. The seagulls had begun to return from their southern vacation—a trademark of the Jersey shore. The water lapping against the docks created a sound that I associated with peace and relaxation.
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