Driftwood Point

by Mariah Stewart

  “There are a lot of places on the island where you can’t build because the area’s protected, or it just isn’t suitable,” he reminded her. “The wetlands, the salt marsh.”

  “Don’t seem to me there be too much else to build on.” She rocked for a moment before adding, “’Cept maybe the point.”

  “You still own that, Miz Ruby?”

  “You know I do. If you’re asking me if I’d sell it, I don’t know. Never gave it thought.” Her gaze was out over the dune, toward the point, though it was too far away to be seen from the opposite end of the island. “That place been in my family since the big move, when the folks in St. Dennis drove us out. Never thought about selling it. Thought to keep it in the family. Only ones who ever come back are Owen and Lis, once in a while Chrissie. Owen would do right by it; he’s island through and through, though he don’t know it yet. Lis, well, I be waiting for that girl’s heart to catch up with her head, and enough said about that. Chrissie—no, no. Wouldn’t leave it to Chrissie. She’d sell it to the first person who flashed green in front of her face, and that’s the God’s truth.”

  Alec had remained silent. He let Ruby talk out the possibilities.

  “What good would come to the island, all these houses be built?” she asked.

  “Well, Deiter would have to pay the owners for the land. Then he’d be hiring some local people to work.”

  Ruby nodded. She understood the financial benefit.

  “The general store would be selling a lot more coffee early in the morning and cold bottled water all day long,” he added.

  “I already figured that,” she told him.

  Alec smiled. Of course she would have picked up on that immediately. Nothing got past Ruby.

  “Tell me what harm you see.”

  “If the building isn’t done right, if too many homes are built, it could be a disaster. From an ecological standpoint—it could kill the salt marsh and everything living there. As far as the environment is concerned, just the amount of human waste to dispose of would quadruple, at the least. If it wasn’t done properly so that it seeped into the bay . . .”

  Ruby nodded. She understood completely.

  “And if the houses weren’t right for the island, if consideration isn’t given to the places that are here, how new would fit in with the old, the entire look of this place will change.”

  She nodded again. “What’s in your head, Alec?”

  “My head tells me that sooner or later, there will be development on the island. It’s happening all up and down the bay. If Deiter gets his way, it will be sooner.”

  “Who’d be in charge of all this building?”

  “The developer—Deiter—would be.”

  “I been feeling a change coming for some time now. You wondering if you should work with this man?”

  “That’s what it’s coming down to, yes.”

  “Someone with no feel for the island could do harm,” Ruby said thoughtfully. “Could be two hundred years of island living be gone.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about.”

  “Seems to me you’d take good care. Respect what’s here. What’s been. Maybe know best what should come next. Keep the marshes safe. Keep a keen eye on what’s going on.” They both rocked in silence for several minutes.

  Finally, Ruby said, “What would happen to the old places? The chapels? The first houses?”

  “I’ll see if I can get them protected. They should be on the National Register of Historic Places, given their history.”

  “You would do right by us. Guide this man and his people right, maybe it be for the best.” Ruby closed her eyes. “Change be coming . . . time to get out of the way. Might as well try to make the best of it, do it right. Once all be gone, there be no bringing it back.”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” he said.

  Without opening her eyes, she replied, “I know.”

  Alec had played that conversation over and over in his head, and in the end, he’d decided it would be best all the way around if he was involved with the project. Ruby had promised that if things got to the point where the development was a go, she’d be willing to take Alec’s part if anyone on the island had misgivings. If Alec could steer Brian Deiter in the right direction, and if Ruby Carter had his back, the project could be beneficial for everyone involved, especially for the people of Cannonball Island.

  It was clear that Ruby hadn’t mentioned anything to Lis about the changes that might be coming. It was anyone’s guess how she was going to react to the news, especially after telling Alec that she’d fallen in love with the cottage all over again, and how much she loved the unspoiled beauty, how she wished it would never change. If she reacted the way he thought she might, he was going to have to be able to make her understand that in the long run, he was the lesser of all evils when it came to the island’s future, that development to some degree was inevitable. Whether she’d see it that way remained to be seen.

  Brian showing up at the point had escalated things a bit. He’d told Alec all he could think about was the view from the point: He had to have it. He was going to build his own house there. Alec knew that with Lis’s heart set on renovating the cottage, there was no way Ruby would sell even an acre of the point. He’d need to line up some other properties that he could hope to interest Brian in.

  Tommy Mullan had told him just last week that he and his sisters were interested in selling off some ground owned by their parents on the island. Both their father and mother were in a nursing home and could use the money, he had said. As soon as Lis drove off, Alec called Tom and asked if he could meet him at one of their properties. Tom, who was living close by in Ballard, dropped what he was doing and drove over.

  “What have you got in mind, Alec?” Tom asked.

  “I know of someone who might be looking to buy something on the island,” Alec said cautiously. The last thing he wanted to do was set the gossip machine going before he needed to. “He asked me to look around, see if there was anything suitable to build on that might be for sale.”

  Tom pointed to the house, which was boarded up all the way around. “You came to the right place, pardner. What’s he paying?”

  “I don’t know. The conversations haven’t gotten that far, but I imagine it would be fair.”

  “What do you suppose is fair market for these old places?” Tom rubbed his chin. “You got any idea?”

  “There’s a lot to take into consideration. These older places, the original homes—they can’t be replaced once they’re gone. There’s a lot of history here.”

  “But does history have a price tag? And does anybody really care if the houses on Cannonball Island are knocked down?”

  “I think there are ways to make them care.”

  “These old places, they’re small and have been beaten down by the weather over the years. Hell, my grandparents’ place over near the village is damn near falling down.”

  “You selling that, too?”

  “If we can.”

  “Who owns the lots next door?” Alec asked.

  Tom pointed to the right. “My dad’s sister owns the one there, and his brother owned the one that runs behind them both. Over to the other side, my grandfather owned that one, too.”

  “So you could conceivably sell them all?”

  Tom nodded. “I guess the only value—assuming there is some—is in the land. The roof fell in on my aunt’s place—I guess you can see that yourself—and she never bothered to fix it. Her husband died about five years ago, and she just packed up and moved on. The house my uncle lived in is still in somewhat decent shape—he lived there up until Christmas, when he fell and broke his hip, went to live with his son in Baltimore. They’re all really small, though.”

  “I can see that.”

  “It was like growing up in a shoe box; this place was too
small for the five of us.” Tom was gazing at the house. “You ever been in one of these places?”

  “No.”

  “Come on in, then, and take a look.”

  Alec followed Tom around to the back of the house, past the tiny white markers that seemed to grow out of the side yard, each marking the final resting place of one of the Mullans who’d come before. Alec wasn’t sure what to do about them, but he’d worry about it later. Tom unlocked the door and held it aside for Alec to enter. He found himself in a kitchen smaller than the one in Ruby’s cottage. A walk-through confirmed that every room was smaller than he’d expected. The tour lasted less than ten minutes.

  “Well, you were right. It is pretty small,” Alec said when they’d gone back outside. “And the amount of work it would need . . .”

  “Yeah, it’s a tear-down, far as I can see. You find out what this guy is offering and I’ll talk to my sisters. I have power of attorney for our folks—the girls don’t live local anymore. Kate is in Chicago and Amanda is in Charleston. Between you and me, we don’t expect a lot for it.”

  “Do yourself a favor and don’t tell that to anyone else. And it might be a good idea to keep this under your hat for now, at least until we see if this guy decides to make an offer.”

  “Gotcha.” Tom nodded. “I won’t say a word to anyone until this guy comes back with a number. If he comes back with a number.”

  “Right. You don’t want to be telling people you’re selling it and then have this guy decide that the other side of River Road looks better to him.”

  “Yeah. I’d look like a damned fool.” Tom put his hand out to shake Alec’s hand. “You have my number. I’ll be waiting to hear, either way.”

  Tom opened the driver’s door of his truck, but before he got in, he turned to Alec. “This place has been pretty wild all my life. Hard to imagine it with new houses on it. Shame, in a way, to see it change, see something different here. But I guess that’s progress, right? Wouldn’t surprise me at all if someone decided to do a lot of building out here. That’s what’s happening over near where I live. Someone bought up all that strip along the river and started building these huge places there. Heard they’re going for a million and up. Nice-looking places, but when you look across the river, you can’t tell where you are anymore.”

  Without waiting for Alec to comment, Tom got into his truck and drove off.

  Alec walked around the property again, this time trying to gauge the size of the lot. Judging by the placement of trees around the perimeter, he had a pretty good idea. He’d call Tom later to confirm.

  His instincts told him that the existing houses would be too small to sell the developer on for rehabs, even if they could be saved, which was doubtful, but the properties were well located, and he’d noticed several things in his quick walk-through with Tom. Inside, there was a lot of good wood—beautiful wood—that could be reclaimed and used again. The interior doors were in good condition, and the brick in the fireplace was prime, even after all these years. All he needed was to convince Deiter that this was the way to go, the architect to see things as he did, and a Realtor to pull it all together.

  If the architect were to design new houses that reflected the old, filled with wood and brick reclaimed from the original houses that stood on these lots, and with the right marketing plan . . .

  It wasn’t a new concept, but he’d bet it would be new to Deiter.

  Energized by the possibilities, he hopped into his Jeep and headed for home. He had some phone calls to make.

  Chapter Eight

  A fat blue glass vase spilling over with flowers sat in the center of the round table near the window in Ruby’s store.

  “So pretty,” Lis said as she sat with her coffee after the morning rush of watermen had ended. “What are these orange things?”

  “Zinnias.” Ruby joined her, a cup of Earl Grey in hand. “They exploded out there near the front corner. Picked as many as I could, but there’s still a mess of them out there. I thought you might like some for upstairs.”

  “I’d love some, thank you. They’re so colorful.” Lis touched the blooms with a fingertip. “I like the big ones. They’re so bold.”

  “Some flowers be bold, some be quiet. Just like people.”

  “That’s you and me, right there,” Lis said. “You’re the bold one.”

  “Live as long as I have, no point in hiding behind yourself. You have something to say, you say it. Something you want to do, you do it. Life catches up with you, whichever way you decide to live.” Ruby took a sip of tea, then put the cup down. “Like now. You got something to say.”

  “I’m still working it out, Gigi.” Lis’s fingers tapped on the side of her mug. “How I want to live. Where I want to be. I used to be so sure of myself, what I wanted, and now . . .”

  Ruby nodded as if she understood. “Now you’re not.”

  “I like my life, I do. I like where I live, and I like being close to the city. I like the bustle, that sense of urgency, the energy there. I like the work I did there.”

  “But . . .” Ruby raised an expectant eyebrow.

  “But when I’m here, the slower pace feels, I don’t know, more natural to me, maybe. I like talking to the oystermen when they come in every morning. I like the connection I feel here. I tried to work on a sketch last night, something I’d started a few weeks ago, but as much as I tried, I found I had no feel for it.”

  “Maybe you be wanting to paint something different. Change might be due.”

  “I do have something else in my head right now, something different from what I’ve been doing, and I’m excited about it and I can’t wait to work on it.” Lis sighed. “I just hate to put something aside once I started it. It goes against everything I’ve been taught.”

  “Unfinished business weighs on the soul and preys on the mind. My Harold used to say that.” Ruby blotted up a spilled spot of tea with a napkin. “What picture’s in your head?”

  Lis hesitated, wondering if she should tell Ruby about the portrait she was itching to start: Ruby at the table, just as she was now, her face thoughtful and her eyes shining and wise and loving. No, she should hold on to that for now. What if she’s unable to bring that face to life, to show the beauty of the woman as it should be shown? Best to let that be for now.

  Instead, Lis said, “There was a view from the point—you know, where it looks over toward the cove where Sunset Beach is hidden? I keep seeing that in my mind, the curve of the land, the pines that shelter the beach from view, making it such a mysterious place.” She paused. “Carly mentioned the beach the other day. She has a painting in the gallery that was done by Carolina Ellis a long time ago. Carly thinks it’s Sunset Beach.”

  Ruby nodded knowingly. “A good woman, Carolina was. A mite confused at times, but she came into her own, by and by.”

  “You knew her?”

  “Of course. She be a friend of my aunt Helena. Now, I only know what I heard, and I only knew her when she was an older lady.”

  “Why do you say she was confused?”

  “Carolina was always a headstrong young thing, the way I heard tell. Always drawing, painting. Like someone else I know.” Ruby smiled. “She knew her mind. Some say she be a bit wild, that she had a secret beau. Didn’t know her then, but that’s what they say. Then she up and married that James Ellis, and it seemed he had a lot to say ’bout what she did and that sort of thing. Didn’t like her painting.”

  “Why didn’t he like her to paint?”

  “People say he thought painting was unseemly for a woman to do. People who knew better say it was because it took her mind off him.”

  “Wow. Talk about selfish, self-centered . . .”

  “Like all the Ellis boys, truth be told.”

  “Who was her secret beau?”

  “Well, now, it wouldn’t be much of a secret if you knew, would it
?” Ruby teased, and got that look on her face, the one that said, Maybe I know and maybe I don’t, but either way, I’ll not be speaking of it now. “That’s a story for another time.”

  “Gigi, I want to hear your stories. All of them. We’re going to start tonight, unless you have something better to do.”

  “What stories you want to hear?”

  “I think I want to start at the beginning. I know what my father’s side of the family thought about the old times, but I don’t remember hearing about it from you.”

  “Time long past, doesn’t mean a whole lot now. I don’t recall that my family ever held bad feelings the way Jack did. They called it ‘the move,’ but they didn’t dwell on it.”

  “No one ever talked about what they had to leave behind in St. Dennis?”

  “Not that I heard. Didn’t really matter, you think about it. Can’t change what was.”

  “So you’ve said.” Lis mulled it over. “When I went to meet Carly the other day, I drove up Hudson Street. I stopped in front of the Cassidy House, the one my father said belonged to his family. I didn’t feel anything at all, looking at that place, except that it’s a pretty house and that the people who live there are taking very good care of it.” She sipped her coffee and found it cold. “Did your family have a place like that? A house you left behind that was given to someone else to live in?”

  “Don’t know. Maybe.” Ruby shrugged. “Guess no one cared, once they be here.”

  “That’s a much saner way to look at it.” A question came to her suddenly. “Gigi, who built the house on the point?”

  “There be two houses there.”

  “Well, both of them, I guess. Do you know?”

  “The one that’s falling down, well, my granddaddy lived there as a boy, that be right around the Civil War. Could have been his daddy built it. No way to know now. And the other place, where me and Harold lived? That be my grandfather, for sure. Built it when he and my grandmother married. Lived there until they took over the store from his mother.”