by Natalie Ann
Just not enough freedom, forcing her to study abroad that last year. Trying to make Anne’s dream come true.
“I didn’t know you went to college either. What did you study?” Kayla asked.
“English and Art.” No reason to go into more on that front and Kayla didn’t ask.
“You never said what Anne was like,” Amanda asked. Amanda was always good at changing the topics when she felt someone was uncomfortable.
“She was more outgoing than me.”
“Really?” Kayla said. “That’s hard to believe. You’re always so talkative and friendly.”
“We were the same on that front. But she was more adventurous. That’s the better word. I like to be around people, but don’t feel the need to, if that makes sense.”
“Totally makes sense,” Amanda said. “I love my job and talking with people, but am just as happy to go home and be alone too.”
“You get it. Anyway, sometimes I did things because Anne couldn’t and then they bit me in the ass. I’ve had to learn to just do what works for me and who I am.”
“Something we all need to learn,” Kayla said.
Sidney was glad neither of them asked for details. She’d shared more about herself in the past few weeks than she had in years. And the fact she wouldn’t mind saying some of this to Mac scared her shitless.
20
Family History
Mac would much rather be out to dinner with Sidney tonight on her day off than getting ready for the town board meeting where he had to present his budget and get approval. More like beg for more money and see how he made out.
But Sidney spent the day with Amanda and Kayla and was home now, having sent him a text wishing him luck tonight. He thought it was funny but felt he needed it too.
When everyone was seated, he started to speak. The fire chief was there along with the public works director and island librarian. Everyone was making their case tonight for more money. It just sucked he got to go first and then they would all argue why they needed the money more.
“Everyone has the budget in front of them. As you can see we’ve got a large deficit. The island is getting bigger and more popular. It’s great for business, but not always so great for the police to enforce the increasing numbers. I need another full-time officer and a vehicle. I was able to secure funding with a grant to cover eighty percent of the new officer.”
“So you need the town to give you the other twenty?” Simon Jones asked. He’d been on the board for years. Mac’s old high school principal. He’d hated the man back then almost as much as he couldn’t stand him now. “What are you paying this person? That’s a lot of money if it’s only twenty percent.”
“If you look down you’ll see I also need a new cruiser. That’s a onetime cost and they don’t come cheap. The twenty percent would be an ongoing cost, the cruiser not.”
“What’s wrong with the ones you’ve got?” Simon asked. “Can’t more officers patrol on foot or bike?”
“They do in the warmer months. Even in the winter they walk as much as they can, but it’s a big island. They aren’t going to bike all the way to the other end and we cover the whole distance.”
The island was over forty-three square miles in size. He remembered that Simon was one to lecture how much they walked around the island in his day, uphill both ways in a hurricane. Most of the kids just rolled their eyes at him.
“So the officer stays in the office,” Simon argued.
“Which defeats the purpose. I don’t need a secretary to answer calls and do paperwork. I need someone on the ground.”
“You’ve got a man past his retirement that is taking up a big chunk of your payroll. If he left that might cover most of this twenty percent,” Marla Winston said. She was new to the board and in her mid-fifties. She owned a boutique on the island and in his eyes it was nice to get new blood and fresh perspectives.
“I agree. Does anyone on the board want to bring that up to my captain?” he asked of Chris. They all knew Chris and his ways. No one said a word. “When he retires at some point, the budget will look better.”
“But then other costs will go up and you’d still need the money,” Simon said.
“That’s right. I’m going to need that money regardless just like the rest of us in this room. As I said, the island is thriving and a lot of that revenue is a tax base for these necessary services.”
“The state police are on the island too,” Simon argued. “They can pick up the slack.”
The guy was a dick and never understood the way things worked no matter how many times it was explained to him. It was the same reason Simon didn’t get why there were three fire stations on the island. Because having one meant unless the fire was close by, everything would be destroyed and they needed more than one if there was another fire.
“The state police are here on their own agenda. They do police the island. They do pick up the slack. But they also deal with higher crime issues.”
There had been a few murders and drug deals. The state police managed more of that. Mac was always involved, but they took the lead. He wouldn’t bring it up to the board, but Jarrett was working on a high-end prostitution ring with Boston. Lots of criminals wanted to use the island for dealings, but no one in this room thought of that or even realized it was a possibility.
“Then they are helping you out,” Mason Rauch said. He was a Bond through marriage, coming from Patricia’s side. His daughters Emily and Penelope owned and ran the Atlantic Rise hotel. Mason was careful about voicing too many words, but Mac was glad there was someone on the board that could understand. “Simon, stop being such a hardass. Mac is right. The revenue is up and these are vital services. We know everyone needs money and this is trying to figure out how to dole it out, not saying the money isn’t there for anyone.”
“Thanks,” he said to Mason. “We all have needs. I get it. Everyone has their case to present. In the last month alone I’ve been called out to deal with a fender bender in the grocery store parking lot and a false child abuse claim of a bored teen on a snow day. Is that how you want me to spend my time? Trust me, I’d rather do that than look at a budget and come out here and be put before the firing squad to justify our needs.”
There were some chuckles and head nods around the room. “No reason to get snippy,” Simon said. “Maybe you should fundraise more.”
He started to grind his teeth, but Marla spoke up. “Simon. Read what is in front of you or do you need better glasses? Mac has a hundred thousand dollars down for fundraising. That’s damn good.”
“Not as good as the fire department,” he said. Probably because he wasn’t willing to put on a show like his brother Alex in a calendar or contests and family fun days to get the women to put the money up. “But we pull our own. I’ve got another fifty thousand on there for new equipment that I need but was able to secure the funds from the Bond Family Trust. If you look at the third page you’ll see the release from Hailey Bond guaranteeing the funds.”
As far back as the beginning there had been a Bond Trust that helped build the island. Fundraising was done all year round along with private donations from family members into the trust that was handled by a group of investors and lawyers. All family members. No one got favoritism.
He’d gone to Hailey months ago with his proposal, the board met and agreed. If he had to ask the town board for that money too he might lose his mind.
“You’re doing a good job,” Mason said. “We appreciate your efforts. Does anyone have any other questions before we hear from the rest of the those here tonight?”
Most of the board was quiet and he was fine with that. Simon was the most outspoken and the biggest pain. Marla and Mason could see reason. The rest were reasonable too though they didn’t say much. At least they were logical in their decision making.
He sat down and then prepared to listen to everyone else have their asses handed to them on a platter by Simon and wasn’t disappointed.
They’
d get back to everyone within a few weeks and if he couldn’t get the money for the cruiser, then he’d go asking some of his cousins for it. It’s not like he was asking for money personally to put in his own pocket, but sometimes it felt like that.
He supposed he had to get that shit out of his head. That Sidney was right and he carried too much of his family history around.
Just because there was so much talk and documentation of William’s side gambling their money away, always begging and asking for loans and help, didn’t mean that Mac had to feel the way he did.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t seem to shake the stigma attached.
21
The Stable One
“I like coloring better, but you like to draw more, don’t you?”
Sidney lifted her head to look at her sister, Anne. They were sitting in the room they shared, the two of them being sent here by their mother for running around the house and causing mischief. “Go play quietly while I start dinner,” their mother had said.
“I like coloring just fine,” she said. “But you know I love to draw.”
“You should draw coloring books for me,” Anne said.
“I don’t know,” she said. “How would I do that?”
“Beats me. Just draw a picture and outline it in black. You could do big thick lines or thin ones. Just like our coloring books.”
“I guess,” Sidney said, picking up a blue crayon and coloring the sky. “But I’d rather draw a picture that goes with a story.”
“We should write books together,” Anne said. “I’ll tell the story and you draw.”
“I write better than you too,” Sidney said. Her sister liked to ramble on and never get to the point. Anne was the funny one, the adventurous one. The outgoing one.
Sidney was the stable one. Nothing wrong with that though, even at seven years old she knew that.
“Whatever,” Anne said, grabbing another crayon and coloring faster now. “Race you to the end.”
“No,” she said. “I like mine to be neat. You just like to finish to move onto the next.”
“That’s what life is all about. Moving on to something better.”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “What if you find something you really want and like? Why would you move to something else?”
“No clue,” Anne said. “We’re kids. We always move on. There is always something better out there.”
Sidney sat up in bed sharply and blinked her eyes a few times only to realize she was on Amore Island in her rented room.
She looked out the window and saw it was morning, then glanced at the clock on her nightstand. Nine thirty. She’d slept thirty minutes longer than normal, but she wasn’t on a schedule, she didn’t have to be anywhere until five tonight.
Guess she needed the sleep more than she realized.
She got up and grabbed some clothes, then went down the hall to the bathroom to shower and get ready for the day. The house was quiet as she expected it to be with Bri and Amanda at work.
Once she was dressed, she made her coffee and sat at the table, her tablet in front of her to read the news. She didn’t like always bringing her laptop down for things like that. She used that more for work, but she was finding that she liked to use the stylus and draw on her touch screen laptop too. Well, only with her software to get everything just perfect when she was ready to work on her books.
After she scoped out the news and saw nothing pressing she went right to her publishing account to see how her preorder was doing for My First Haircut. Damn, she had more than double the number of preorders as the day before. She’d only had the book up about a week and it’d be released in two weeks. She’d just set up a few promos.
But she did send her newsletter out yesterday before work and then did a post on her blog. She’d never thought she’d get such good responses from those two things and was thrilled she did.
With that book finished and ready to release, she’d been focusing more on her policeman book. She had the story down, that was easy enough. Short and sweet and easy for kids to follow and learn a lesson at the same time. Now it was just drawing all the pictures for it. But that was what she loved the most.
She’d get started on that by next week as she was close to finalizing the main character in her mind.
She was just getting ready to close her tablet and make breakfast when she remembered her dream about Anne and coloring books. Hmm, might as well check it out.
And what she saw gave her an idea. Why not try it? She had enough pictures in sketchbooks over the years that she could scan in and start to tweak. Enough to do a few themes at least. It couldn’t hurt to give it a try and decided to focus on that first and see how it worked out.
When she heard a car out front, she went and looked and noticed it was the mail already. She threw on boots and a jacket and walked out to get it. She never got anything here but junk or books she’d ordered. All her bills were electronic. Most of the stuff that came was for Bri or Amanda.
She glanced through the stack of envelopes in her hand, saw nothing was for her and tossed it on the table, then went back to her coloring book idea.
After running upstairs and flipping through all her sketch pads—glad she did most of them in black and white even though she did love to color—she realized she had about thirty different floral designs and would start with that.
Before ripping them out of the pads to scan, she marked them all with sticky notes, then removed one and scanned it into her software. This was when she wished she had room for a desk in here, but for now she sat on her bed. It didn’t take long to scan things anyway.
Once it was uploaded she took her laptop downstairs with her stylus and got to work tweaking her drawing and creating more patterns on the screen with it. Hours later, her stomach was grumbling and she realized she’d gotten so lost in creating this that she only had an hour before work and hadn’t even eaten lunch.
She angled her head, looked at the design she’d been working through trial and error and was pretty pleased with it.
She printed it out fast, loved how it looked and promised herself she’d try to color it later tonight before she wound down for bed. Then she put everything away and made her way to the kitchen to eat and get ready to leave.
“Hey, Mark,” she said to the other bartender when she walked past the bar. They worked together the most it seemed. “Looks a little quiet. Let’s hope it picks up.” There were a few people at the bar and about five tables with customers at them. On a Thursday when she came in there was normally some more.
“It’s going to get busy. Butch just said someone called to reserve a table for fifteen at six. Once Tara gets here I’ll have her start to set that up.”
“Good for business and making the time go by faster,” she said, moving to the back to hang her jacket up and lock her purse away.
“Sidney,” Butch said, coming from behind the grill. There were four people working different stations but Butch did the bulk of the cooking. “Some mail came here for you today. It’s on my desk if you want to go grab it.”
“Okay,” she said. That was odd.
She went into Butch’s office and saw it sitting on the edge of his desk and picked it up. It was typed, not handwritten. Probably junk with no return address.
She ripped it open and felt her stomach pitch to her feet and seep between her toes.
I haven’t forgotten about you, Sidney. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss you. That I don’t beat myself up over what happened and how you left me so suddenly. I miss you and hope to reconnect. We are meant for each other. Love, Rod.
What the hell?! How did he even know where she was? Why after all these years?
There was no way to contact him to tell him to go take a large jump off a high bridge headfirst into rocky water either.
She wasn’t sure what to do about this let alone what to think. But for now it was going in her purse and out of her mind. He knew where she worked, but not where she liv
ed. Not that she was positive he couldn’t find that out.
She’d just have to be on the lookout for him or anyone that might be watching her or following her.
All those years ago, she’d left his flat when he’d gone to work. She wasn’t sure where to go and what to do so she contacted the college she was taking her classes with. They’d taken her in, they sheltered her, and they kept her safe.
They encouraged her to go to the police, but she knew it wouldn’t make a difference. Rod’s family had money, they had pull and they had power. They were lawyers, and they were well known. Even when he’d talk down to her in front of his parents, they’d give her a look to see how she’d react, as if waiting to jump in to stop an argument or outburst from their son. Possibly to back or protect him as if they’d done it before.
She was a foreigner on their home turf and all she wanted to do was bide her time to get the hell back home. She didn’t fight with him in front of his family. It wasn’t worth it to her.
The bruise on her face validated her story enough that the campus security followed up with the neighbors and got their statement on the yelling and fighting the night before. She had a copy of that report and the other reports with the school.
And when she’d seen Rod on campus one day walking around, she’d run in the other direction. He didn’t know her schedule or where her classes were. He knew where she worked, but she’d quit her job that day too though it seemed like he wasn’t giving up.
It’d only taken him a week to find out her schedule and be waiting for her one day. There was nowhere to go when she walked out of class, but there were plenty of witnesses.
He’d begged her to come back. He apologized like he always did. He said he loved her and missed her. He was sorry, he was wrong. Same story, different book in her eyes. She’d seen through to his flaws and issues.
She told him to go fuck off. No one lays a hand on her.