to gauge the mood of the panel,” Dad replied with an encouraging nod.
Sam leaned into the mike to talk. “Up first is John McSweeny seeking to replace signage lost during the hurricane for the bowling alley at 4623 Palm Avenue.”
Signage. That wouldn’t take long.
“Next will be Barbara Pennick requesting all new windows and a new entry to Beachside Beauty.”
From the sidelines Gloria beamed at her boss.
“Third presentation is Lacey Armstrong, Barefoot Bay property owner.”
Lacey sat straighter. Wait, how could she be next? She had to have the northernmost property. Unless whoever had bought Tomlinsons’ land decided to show.
Her heart jumped at the thought. Was someone proposing to build on that lot? Wiping damp palms on her jeans, she waited for Sam to describe her proposal.
“Ms. Armstrong is proposing a change in”—Sam paused, frowning down at the paper—“town codes, development standards, transportation flow…” His voice trailed off as he looked at the crowd. “That one will take a while.”
The reaction was a mix of mumbles and nervous laughter, some throat clearing, and a lot of eyes on Lacey, who still didn’t know how she could be third out of four presentations.
“What’s the matter?” Dad asked.
“There’s no one north of me,” she said. “Who is presenting fourth?”
Just then she spotted Ira Howell, the banker who represented the anonymous property buyer, leaning against the back wall, a scowl pulling the skin of his bald head.
She gripped her father’s hand tighter as Sam started reading again.
“Our final presentation addresses another lot in Barefoot Bay and another change in town codes, development standards, and transportation flow, given by Mr. Ira Howell of Wells Fargo.”
No. No. Whatever they were building, however they’d gotten on the agenda, she had to stop it. At the very least she had to know who she was up against. “This is a nightmare,” she mumbled.
Will Palmer leaned over. “You know, Lacey, code changes and development standards could mean they’re hard-line environmentalists. It doesn’t automatically mean the buyer is building something.”
But she needed that land. Tomlinsons’ and Everham’s properties were north and south of her. They’d close her in. And her house, Clay’s house, was supposed to go on the Tomlinson land. She couldn’t let go of that dream. And with David’s offer of an investment to buy those properties, she’d been certain she could make that dream a reality.
Dad patted her leg. “You can’t find a solution until you know the problem, Lace. Let’s find out what’s going on.”
What was going on were fried nerves and bad feelings in her gut.
Charity shot up. “I’m sorry, but Mimosa Key bylaws clearly state that the only speakers at a town council meeting must be current residents of the island. No representative can speak for them. Mr. Howell is not a resident of Mimosa Key.”
For once she could have kissed Charity and her damn rules.
Ira Howell pushed off the wall to respond. “I have complete power of attorney for the property owner, Mayor Lennox. I have the paperwork to prove that I can speak on behalf of this individual who owns the land, and is therefore a resident of Mimosa Key.”
“That’s not good enough,” Charity said, getting a loud reaction and a few boos from the crowd.
Ira shook his head. “There’s actually a proviso in the bylaws regarding power of attorney if the individual is unable to appear before the council. If it pleases you, Mr. Mayor, I’d like to present that reason exclusively to the town council.”
Despite the outcry of the crowd, Sam hit the gavel with authority. “We’ll take a short break to discuss this behind closed doors,” Sam announced. “Presenters, please get ready.”
Lacey exhaled, but then nudged her father. “Let’s go get the materials from the car, Dad.”
“I’ll help you, Lacey,” Will offered.
“Oh, that would be great, Will. The car’s illegally parked and if I chance it much longer, Slade’ll slam me with a parking ticket.”
As Ira Howell left with the five members of the council to a private chamber, Lacey, her father, and Will headed out.
“Good luck, Lacey!” A woman who’d had Lacey bake her wedding cake called out.
“You’re our hero, Lace!” another said.
She was? She gave a little wave to some friends and a few baking customers, buoyed by their belief in her.
Lacey dashed through the hall and to the main entrance, where Will held the door for her.
She pointed to the big Jeep Rubicon. “That’s my car.”
Will slowed as the approached the vehicle. “I hoped, er, figured I’d see your friends with you today.”
Lacey hesitated. Jocelyn. He meant