Dewey Decimated, page 9
The sun was sinking as I pulled into the Town Hall parking lot. Though it was only a quarter to seven, the parking lot was already half-filled. This was an open meeting, and many civic-minded residents were expected to attend to hear about the proposed plans for the Seabrook Preserve property and voice their opinions. Reggie pulled into the spot beside me and slid out of his car while talking on his cell phone. He ended his call and smiled when he saw me. We walked together toward the entrance.
“We can expect a big crowd tonight,” he said, gesturing at the two cars driving onto the lot. “And plenty of shouting.”
“You really think so?” I said.
“Absolutely. There are three options, and the residents who show up all have an agenda. There are the nature lovers who want to keep the preserve, the family-minded in favor of the park, and those with the foresight to keep Clover Ridge a growing, thriving community.”
Translated: the condo plan you like so much. “In the end, it’s the five of us who get to decide,” I said.
Reggie pulled open the door and stepped back to let me enter. “Yes it is, Carrie, so listen carefully to what everyone is really saying and cast your intelligent vote.”
Strange advice, I thought as Reggie left me to join a group of four men and two women standing in a circle. I felt a moment of anxiety as I glanced around the room filled with chairs for at least seventy people and was relieved to spot my uncle Bosco talking to Al Tripp and Jeannette Rivers, whose place I was filling on the council because she and her husband were moving out of state. They had gathered at the far end of the room near the dais. I hurried over to join them.
We all exchanged greetings. Uncle Bosco put an arm around me and kissed my cheek. “Be prepared for fireworks tonight.”
I heard a burst of laugher and glanced at the group of people standing a few feet away. There was Babette and her cousin Graham with a striking gray-haired woman and two dapper-looking men.
Al followed my gaze. “The park contingent.”
I nodded. “I met Babette’s cousin Graham at the Fall Festival on Saturday.”
“And what did you think of the Waterford Group’s proposal?”
I turned to find Sean Powell behind me. Al, Uncle Bosco, and I stepped back so he could join us.
“I haven’t decided,” I hedged. “I thought I’d wait until I heard what everyone had to say before making up my mind.”
“You’ll hear a bunch of exaggerations and downright lies. Mostly from people out to cash in at the town’s expense.”
Sean had spun around to glare at the group across the way, the group that Reggie had joined. “And to think my own son is responsible for it all.”
It was easy to spot Kevin Powell. He was a younger, taller version of his father—slender and handsome, but with a pulsating restlessness that was noticeable even from where I stood.
“Come on, Sean,” Al said, resting his hand on Sean’s arm. “You can’t blame Kevin for encouraging Lighthouse Builders to make a bid for the property. It happens to be the perfect place for an upscale condo community guaranteed to bring in lots of revenue.”
Sean scowled. “And Reggie’s all for it. Are you, Al?” He turned to me. “And you, Carrie?”
Jeannette said, “There’s no need to make this personal, Sean.”
“Everything’s personal, Jeannette.” Sean spun on his heel and took off.
“Sean’s angry because Kevin went to work for Lighthouse Builders,” Jeannette said.
“So Al told me,” I said.
“A double whammy since Sean and Tim were once partners. When they split up, Tim got a job at Lighthouse Builders and worked his way up till he reached the top. He’s largely responsible for where the company is now—building condos and senior retirement communities in three states.” She lowered her voice. “While Sean stayed local, doing okay but nothing compared to his old partner.”
“Did Sean hope Kevin would take over his business?”
Al shrugged. “Depends on who’s telling the story. According to Sean, Kevin was a handful growing up. He got into trouble. Nothing too serious—he went joyriding in a stolen car; he and his friends got drunk and trashed a bar. He straightened out when he was nineteen, twenty and went to work for his father—never doing more than the bare minimum. A few years ago, he asked to be made partner in the company. Sean said he had to earn a partnership. According to a few of Kevin’s friends, Sean hemmed and hawed, so Kevin got angry and quit, then went to work for Lighthouse.”
“There’s more to the story,” Jeannette said. “Sean told me that when Kevin worked for him, he still had some rough edges—sometimes arriving late or hungover to a job, getting into arguments with the other workers. Sean had his doubts about making him a partner and for good reason.”
“Regardless of their past history, it’s time the two of them made up,” Uncle Bosco said.
He and Jeannette went to sit down. The room had filled up. Soon every chair was occupied.
Al looked at me then gestured up at the dais. “Time to take our seats.”
“I hope we don’t have to answer any questions,” I said.
“Don’t worry. You won’t have to say a word. The open meeting is to give residents an idea of what could be done with the Seabrook Preserve property and for us to hear their thoughts on the matter.”
I started to follow Al up the three steps to the platform when someone tapped me on the shoulder.
“Hi there, Carrie.”
I turned around, startled to see Julie Theron grinning at me.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded.
“Attending the town meeting, just like you.”
Chapter Twelve
Al brought the meeting to attention and introduced the evening’s agenda.
“The property known as the Seabrook Preserve has been a favorite destination of nature lovers these past fifty years. The town can now decide to keep it as a preserve or use it for another purpose that will benefit Clover Ridge in some respect—either financially, aesthetically, or culturally.
“After much discussion, the council has decided on two possible alternatives. A park that offers activities for all ages, including swimming and boating, is one. The construction of a gated condo community is another. Tonight we will hear presentations of all three options. I ask that you show each speaker respect and remain silent when someone has the floor. Residents will have plenty of opportunities to express comments or concerns. Callouts and interruptions will not be tolerated. Do so, and you’ll be asked to leave the meeting.”
Al smiled at me as he sat down, once again the congenial, friendly mayor I knew him to be. His warning regarding protocol reminded me that he was a lot tougher than he often appeared.
Someone wheeled a projector into the room. We board members were asked to move our chairs to either side of the stage so the screen behind us was visible to everyone.
Julie, I noticed, was texting away at lightning speed on her cell phone. She looked up as the lights were dimmed and caught me studying her. A broad grin spread across her face and she gave me a thumbs up. Now what was she scheming?
A young man introduced himself as a forestry graduate student and a part-time worker at the preserve. He presented a short slide show of the preserve’s history. There were several beautiful woodland shots, including a few of the Sound at sunset.
“Our goal is to keep this property as it is—pristine as nature meant it to be. Too much of our land in the northeast is overdeveloped with buildings, shops, and housing. Clover Ridge residents need a sanctuary where they can be at one with the natural world.”
When the lights came on again, he fielded a few questions—about overgrowth, fallen trees, and if the preserve intended to update the shabby restrooms. Julie didn’t appear to be listening to the young man’s detailed answers, but kept her eyes on her cell phone.
Al stood and thanked the young man. “Next we’ll hear from the award-winning Waterford Group, an architectural firm that specializes in outdoor creations and public spaces. They’re here to present their vision of a town park that would include a beach for swimming and sunning, a boat basin where boats could be rented, and a small restaurant.”
The man sitting next to Graham approached the projector and showed us a PowerPoint presentation of a park that seemed to include every attraction except a zoo.
“How much would that cost us?” a man called out.
“Bruce, let’s save the questions for later,” Al responded.
“You allowed questions to be asked about the preserve,” Bruce shot back.
“So I did, but further discussion will continue after all the speakers have given their presentation.” Al eyed Bruce meaningfully.
Bruce must have known that Al meant business about throwing out hecklers because he didn’t say another word. Yay, Al! I was relieved. Tonight’s meeting revolved around a topic that could very well turn into a volatile situation.
When the park presentation ended, Al said, “And now the Lighthouse Builders will show us what the Seabrook Preserve might look like should the property become a condo community. Please remember, while the Waterford Group and the Lighthouse Builders have been kind enough to share their creative visions with us, if we decide to go with one of the two alternate plans, other architectural firms will also be considered.”
Kevin Powell approached the projector. He seemed to be having difficulty getting started. He grimaced and called to one of his colleagues, who joined him and must have resolved the problem because he sat down again as Kevin began his spiel.
“Sorry for the delay, folks. We included a few last minute additions and whoever put them in didn’t know what he or she was doing.”
Nice put down, I thought.
The first image was an overview plan of the property under discussion as a condo community.
“As you can see, most of the units will be townhouses, four in a pod, with a sprinkling of villas and a handful of individual homes. They will be built in free-form circles around four artificial lakes. The clubhouse will face the Sound and house a restaurant, a gym, and an indoor pool. Adjoining it: an outdoor pool, tennis and pickleball courts.”
Admiring sounds issued from around the room. I was among those totally bowled over by this dream creation.
The next shot was a sketch of a few pods surrounded by trees. “We might include piers or a marina for residents who own boats.”
The two-story clubhouse, with its floor-to-ceiling windows facing the Sound, evoked more oohs and aahs. It was followed by four different interior plans.
“Do they start at a million and end at three?” Bruce asked.
Laughter rippled through the audience.
When Kevin finished, the lights were turned on, the projector was removed, and the three presenters joined the members of the board on the dais where additional chairs had been provided.
Al stepped to the front of the platform and waited for the chatting to die down. “Now you’ve seen and listened to detailed reports of the three options being considered for the property known as the Seabrook Preserve: keeping the preserve and making some necessary improvements; erecting a multi-use park with a playground, a picnic area, a beach for swimming, and a boat basin; and lastly, building a gated community of three hundred or so townhouses and villas.
“Again, I want to remind you that the last two presentations are examples of what we have in mind for a park and a condo community. Once we decide which of the three projects we’re going with, other architectural groups will be invited to offer proposals. Our final decision will be based on cost efficiency, design, and our community’s needs.”
Several hands shot up. Al cleared his throat.
“Before we open the agenda to questions, I’m going to ask the three presenters to tell us how their proposal would benefit our town and give us a ballpark figure of estimated financial costs. Why don’t we go in reverse order. Kevin?”
Kevin Powell stepped up to the platform. He placed a thick packet of paper on the lectern and began talking.
“Clover Woods on the Sound, as we’ve named the community we would love to build for you, would be a most desirable development guaranteed to draw the most desirable people.”
“You mean rich,” someone called out, earning him a burst of laughter.
“Yes, affluent people will fall in love with our units and with its unique location. We are willing to pay a hefty amount of money for the property. Let me see …”
He shuffled through the papers before him, then named an enormous figure. I heard gasps. A few chuckles.
“Yes, Clover Ridge, my hometown, will benefit greatly if we build this community. Think of the taxes Clover Woods will generate.”
Kevin offered a few more comments, including that the local tradespeople would profit were Lighthouse Builders to undertake the project.
Someone asked how much the units would cost. Kevin hemmed and hawed and finally said they would begin at eight hundred thousand dollars for the smallest, no-frills unit.
“Will Lighthouse Builders be getting a tax deferment if they win the bid?” Bruce asked.
“Too soon to say at this point.”
“Or you won’t say,” another man shouted.
Other voices called out comments.
Al came to stand next to Kevin. “We will not tolerate shouting and disorder. You will have your chance to ask questions after we’ve heard from our next two speakers. Another outburst and this meeting will come to an end.”
I glanced at Julie. Her eyes were fixed on her cell phone, her mouth open in amazement.
The Waterford Group’s representative stood and began spouting figures. “While the township of Clover Ridge would be paying us to develop the park we’ve described, you will be gaining a beautiful parkland that will add prestige and delight to your historic town. Much of the cost of our fee will be regained through your entrance fee and the additional charges for services like boat rentals.”
The young man from the Seabrook Preserve emphasized that unlike the other proposals, maintaining the preserve was cost efficient. “More importantly, land in its natural condition is rare in these parts and becoming rarer. There’s a great benefit in keeping the Seabrook Preserve property a preserve.”
The questions came fast and furious then. Most of them involved money—the cost of each project. Where would the money to improve the preserve or build the park come from? Would taxes be going up if either of those options was chosen?
A number of residents aired their resentment that the council was considering another high-end complex to be built. Why another park? someone else demanded. My mind was spinning from all the questions and comments, but I jotted them down as best I could. These were Clover Ridge residents giving voice to their opinions regarding the land under discussion. I was duty bound to consider their wishes when I cast my vote for one of the projects.
After an hour of animated discussion, Al drew the session to a close. He thanked the three presenters and their colleagues for coming and announced that we would carefully consider the many comments we’d heard that evening when we made our final decision regarding the future of the Seabrook Preserve.
I’d gotten so caught up in the discussion, I lost track of Julie. She was gone! When had she taken off? Had she left because someone had sent her an important message? The large room emptied slowly as friends and neighbors continued to tell each other why they supported or hated a particular proposal.
“I’d like us to have a short meeting,” Al said as we five council members got to our feet.
“Now?” Babette asked, as if he’d said we’d be pulling an all-nighter.
“It won’t take long, I promise,” Al said.
He ushered us into the smaller room where we usually met. None of us was happy about this. It was after ten, and most of us had to be up early to go to work. Al began immediately.
“We’re meeting next week to discuss and then vote for the project we regard as the best choice for our town. This is a big decision. What I’d like from everyone now is a brief report on your general view of the three proposals—which one you’re leaning toward and why.”
Babette smiled. “Easy enough. I like the park idea. And not just because my cousin Graham worked on the Waterford Group’s presentation,” she quickly added. “I think many Clover Ridge residents would make use of a park like the one the group designed. And the property would still be accessible to residents, unlike the condo idea.”
“As long as they paid a steep price to use the park’s facilities,” Reggie said. “And I imagine we’d have to open the park to outsiders if we hope to recoup the money we’d be laying out for the high-priced design and the work involved.”
“Is that such a bad idea?” Babette asked. “Letting other people pay an entry fee to use the park?”
“I thought Clover Ridge residents were to benefit from whatever we decide,” Reggie said calmly.
From the glances Al and Sean exchanged, I gathered that Babette and Reggie often squabbled.
“Thank you, Babette,” Al said. “Reggie, care to share your thoughts regarding the three projects?”
“With pleasure.” Reggie smiled at each of us in turn. “I’m all for going with an upscale condo community like the one the Lighthouse Builders presented. You saw how impressed everyone was when they saw those sketches of Clover Woods. Frankly, I wouldn’t mind living there, and I imagine plenty of older couples with empty nests would like it as well. Clover Woods, or a place like it, can only enhance our community.”
“And Clover Ridge residents would lose access to the Sound,” I found myself saying.
Reggie shrugged. “I suppose. But there must be plenty of other local sites on the Sound they could visit.”
“Unfortunately, there are very few open to the public,” Al said.
“The condo proposal favors the wealthy,” Sean said. “I don’t like the idea of Clover Ridge being known as a town for the rich.”
“Are you sure you don’t have a personal vendetta against the condo idea?” Reggie asked.
