What Mitch seemed to be looking at was the plot plan for an entire town, each area marked by an oddly understated designation: The Homes, The Stores, The Farm, The Water, The Woods… It seemed to Mitch like something vaguely out of Orwell.
“I want you to do two things for me, Mitch,” Bruce said, launching into a well-grooved sales pitch. “First, I want you to look at the calendar. Can you see what it says? The entire baby boom generation is turning fifty-five. Second, I want you to forget everything you ever knew about continuous living choices.”
“You’re building a retirement village?” Mitch asked him in astonishment.
Bruce shook his head. “Not a chance. I am talking about something entirely new. Let’s face it, the boomers will not want condo colonies. They will not want shuffleboard. Can you see them lining up for the Early Bird dinner special in their lime-green slacks and white shoes? They sure can’t. And neither can I. What I’m looking to do here in Dorset is create a new concept in rural living that they can see-a vibrant, supportive community that revolves around nature. Mitch, I call it The Aerie,” he intoned somewhat grandly, “because it’s a place where eagles nest.”
Now Bruce paused so that Mitch might pay some form of awed tribute to his genius. Mitch did so with a polite smile and nod. He wanted Bruce Leanse to keep talking, not that he thought for one second the man could be stopped.
“The Aerie will be a self-sustaining collective enterprise,” he continued, his eyes growing bright. “A commune, in plain language. Just like back in the sixties, only this time with a Web site and a business plan and a full-time staff of paid professionals who know what the hell they’re doing. When you buy your individual solar-heated cottage in the woods, you’re also buying a share in the collective. There’ll be a bakery, an organic-produce market, a butcher-all selling products raised and processed in The Aerie by retired professionals from all walks of life. Imagine making your own cheese from your own goats, Mitch. Wool clothing made from your very own sheep. Imagine a grist mill. An art studio where you can paint and draw. A spa so you can stay in shape. A full-time medical staff for when you can’t. It will be like the Woodstock fantasy all over again, except this time it’s real.”
Mitch had to admit that Bruce Leanse was one terrific salesman, his enthusiasm both genuine and contagious. From his lips, The Aerie sounded not only possible but downright inevitable. It was as if by wanting his dream to happen, he could make it happen. All you had to do was click the heels of your red shoes together three times and believe.
“And what’s going to happen here?” he asked, pointing to an area of the map labeled The Lodge.
“That’s our profit hub,” Bruce answered quickly, tapping the blueprint with his finger several times for emphasis. “A spa-type luxury retreat, complete with a world-class restaurant featuring our own organically grown foods. Think Canyon Ranch, except you can actually live on the grounds year-round. Think of the millions of baby boomers who are nearing retirement age.” Now he was back into his spiel. “We have to find a place for them. We have to find a new philosophy. The Aerie is it. I see dozens and dozens of Aeries springing up in desirable rural areas all across America, each one of them a sustainable communal enterprise. It’s the future, Mitch, and it starts right here in Dorset. This is my pilot project.”
Mitch peered more closely at the blueprint, trying to get his bearings vis-a-vis the river. “It seems to me that the proposed site of The Lodge is right where Wendell Frye’s farm is.”
“That’s absolutely correct. And your point is…?”
“Well, how significant is his property to the successful completion of your project?”
“Okay, sure. Good question. I’d like to have it. I absolutely would, since much of what surrounds his place is wetlands, which I can’t disturb. That farm of his is a prime building site. However.
…”
“It’s not for sale,” Mitch pointed out.
“Which I totally and completely respect. I don’t run people off of their land, Mitch. I adjust. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my business, it’s that you have to be flexible. Wendell Frye is one of the major artists of this past century. A true giant. You don’t screw around with a guy like that-especially in a small town like this. Worst thing you can possibly do is move into a new place and piss off its leading citizen. That’s bone-headed. Totally suicidal.” Bruce sat back with his hands folded behind his head, grinning at Mitch. “Next question. You must be full of them.”
“How many residents will The Aerie accommodate?”
“Four hundred full-time residents. The spa’s projected to handle a hundred and fifty guests at a time.”
Plus staff. Plus deliveries. That meant a whole lot of cars and trucks coming in and out of what was now a remote area. There was no way narrow little Route 156 could handle that kind of volume, Mitch realized. And no way this wouldn’t completely transform Dorset. Building The Aerie would be like plopping a big factory down right in the middle of the village. Which had to be the real reason why Bruce Leanse had been so careful about buying up the parcels under different names. He hadn’t wanted the townspeople to get wise to what he was doing.
Until now. Now he was suddenly choosing to reveal his plans to Mitch’s newspaper. Why? Because he needed some favorable ink? Or was Moose’s death a factor? Did he hope to gain something from her murder? Had he gained something from her murder?
Actually, Mitch knew a bit about Bruce’s business affairs-he’d spoken to his friend from the real estate section before the interview. From her he had learned that the Brat was leveraged to his eyeballs. Exceedingly cash-poor. Which meant he needed smooth sailing here in Dorset or his financial backers could, and would, break him into small pieces.
Bruce was watching him carefully from across the table, trying to size him up. “I’ll be up-front with you, Mitch,” he said in a confidential voice. “A project of this magnitude is not an easy thing to pull off. Particularly in a wealthy area. Wealth breeds a sense of entitlement. People think they’ve earned the right to keep Dorset the same as it was a hundred years ago. As a result, there are a lot of Bananas around here-that’s developer-speak for Build Absolutely Nothing Anywhere Near Anyone. I’ve faced these people before in the Pacific Northwest. The mobbed zoning-board meetings. The petition drives. The lawsuits. With all due respect, they’re less in tune with the real world than my eight-year-old, Ben. They’re just not being practical.”
Mitch said nothing in response. He actively disliked people who thought that clinging to values and ideals was something to be outgrown, like acne. This was how they slept nights, Mitch supposed. They told themselves: I am a grown-up. Anyone who disagrees with me is a child.
“Please don’t get me wrong,” Bruce added hastily, sensing the chill coming from Mitch’s side of the table. “I do understand their concerns. I live here, too. And if you showed up here looking to put in a toxic-waste dump down the road from me, I’d fight you with everything I’ve got. But that’s something that would have a negative environmental impact. The Aerie won’t.”
“But it will have an impact.”
“It absolutely will,” Leanse agreed, draining the last of his Sam Adams. “But in a positive way-by protecting from development more acres of green space than cul-de-sacs and strip malls would. Long-term, this is better for Dorset than traditional development. People need to realize this. They need to be educated. They need to understand that I truly care about Dorset. I’ve tried to reach out to them…”
“By offering to donate the land for the new school?”
“Exactly. I’m a new face in town. I’m trying to make friends.”
“Otherwise, you don’t get your building permits for The Aerie, right?”
Bruce scowled at Mitch. “You said that, I didn’t. And you’d better not try to put those words in my mouth, guy, because I’ve got what I said on tape, word for word. And I said nothing about any quid pro quo. Not to you, and not to them. The parents want a new school. The community needs it. I simply said, ‘Here, take this land.’ ”
“Your wife is head of the school board. How does that factor in?”
“It doesn’t,” he answered sincerely. “Beyond the fact that we’re the kind of people who don’t believe in taking. When we become part of a community, we get involved.”
“Is she an active participant in your business?”
“No, she’s not.”
“What about Takai Frye?”
Bruce stiffened slightly, his nostrils flaring. “Takai Frye has expedited a number of local transactions for me. I’ve often found it helpful to take on a well-connected local individual as my point person.” Now he paused, searching Mitch’s face carefully. “Why do you ask about her?” he wondered.
