water, they tested the damn trees, for all I know. The PCBs are at acceptable levels at the resort site. Acceptable levels. There may be more of the stuff in the river, but there’s no reason to act as if my property is some sort of Three Mile Island!”
“Goddammit, Peggy, will you just wait your turn?”
She rounded on the mayor. “I came here tonight because I was told there was a motion to suspend construction due to the so-called PCB crisis.” She pointed toward the aldermen’s table. “My property was certified by the DEP. I’ve provided you with their environmental impact statements, which, if you bother to read, clearly state the development is within parameters approved by New York State. I have also provided you with copies of our zoning approval and our construction permits, documents you, gentlemen, issued only six months ago!”
The mayor turned away from the microphone and leaned over the wide wooden table. The four aldermen shoved in close, to hear whatever it was he was saying. They were shuffling papers like blackjack dealers. Clare nudged Paul. “Who’s the woman?” she whispered.
“Peggy Landry. She owns a huge chunk of land northwest of the town. She’s been trying to develop it for years, but she never had the wherewithal to do anything more than plow a few roads in. The only money she made off it came from paintball groups and back-to-nature nuts. You know, people who scoff at amenities like toilets, showers, or cleared land for pitching tents.” He rolled his eyes. “She got a group out of Baltimore interested in the parcel a year or so ago. Before you came. They do spas, luxury resorts, that sort of thing. It was big news at the time because of the prospect of jobs for the town, of course. I didn’t realize they had already—”
Jim Cameron straightened up. “Application papers of Landry Properties, Inc., and BWI Development, a limited partnership,” he read from a sheaf of papers in his hand. “Okay, Peggy, the town isn’t going to suspend your construction permits.” Several in the crowd booed at this. Several others cheered. The mayor frowned. “I said keep it down! Look, our lawyer tells us we don’t have the authority to stop properly permitted projects unless the state rules it is, in fact, violating DEP standards.”
“What about the possible release of more contaminants by the development!” Mrs. Van Alstyne said. “How much of that poison is stored in the rock, waiting to be let out when they start blasting? Anything they let loose is going to wash straight down the mountain into the town and the river!”
“Who’s going to pay for the clean-up?” someone asked from the crowd. “Seems like the Landrys will be making a pretty penny and we’ll be left holding the bill.”
Jim Cameron held up his hands. “People, if we can’t stick to the rule of order, I’m calling this whole meeting off!”
A man stood up next to Peggy Landry, who was glaring at Mrs. Van Alstyne with enough venom to have caused a lesser woman to collapse back into her seat. “Mr. Mayor? May I say a few words?”
The mayor looked pathetically grateful that someone was sticking to
“Bill Ingraham. BWI Development.” Cameron gestured to him to continue. Ingraham was thickly-set, of middle height and middle years, with the sunburned skin of someone who spends a lot of time outdoors. He looked more like a plumbing contractor than a luxury spa developer to Clare’s eye, but then, she had never really met any luxury spa developers. “My partner and I—stand up, John, let the folks here get a look at you—” A smoothly dressed corporate type stood, waved unenthusiastically, and vanished back into his seat. “John and I are here to create a new resort, the best cross between the old Adirondack mountain retreats and an up-to-the-minute health spa. We want to build this because we think it’ll make us a whole lot of money.” There was a snort of laughter, quickly stifled, from the crowd. “I also think it’ll make your town a whole lot of money, because we see this as a destination resort, not a place to stay overnight while your visitor heads over to Saratoga during the day. This is gonna mean money spent in your town and jobs for people who live here, year-round jobs because this is gonna be a year-round resort.” There was a scattering of applause across the town hall. “John and I are putting our money where our mouth is in more ways than one. We’re sponsoring the Fourth of July road race this year and we’ve got plans for a skiing meet at one of the local mountains this winter. Eventually, we want to support a special event in each of the four seasons.” He rubbed his hands together theatrically. “Give those tourists a little incentive to get them into town and loosen their purse strings.”
There was even more laughter than there had been applause. Ingraham paused for a moment, and then went on. “I like this area. Don’t want to see it polluted any more than you do. And I’ll be frank with you. Our budget for the Algonquin Waters Resort and Spa does not include the costs of coming into compliance with the DEP. We bought into the project based on the work Peggy had already done with the permitting. So here’s how we’re gonna handle it. If you all want to call in the state to retest out site because PCB levels have been rising several miles away, go ahead. But if the ruling goes against us, we’re shutting down. In my experience, once the government gets its teeth into things, it doesn’t let go until you’ve gotten a spot cleaner than it ever was originally. We don’t have the time or money for that.”
“What?” Peggy Landry turned to Ingraham, clutching his arm. “You can’t—” The rest of what she had to say was lost as she sat down, hauling him down with her.
“Huh. It’ll certainly spoil her plans if the deal falls through,” Paul said. He shook his head. “Being an Adirondack land baron just isn’t what it used to be.” Throughout the room, rule-abiding citizens waved their hands in the air and rule-ignoring ones called out questions.
Out of the corner of her eye, Clare caught the movement of the big double-door swinging open. A tall man in a brown and tan uniform slipped through. He paused by the door, unobtrusive despite his size, and scanned the crowd. Clare quickly looked back at the front of the room, where a redhead in a nurse’s jacket was talking about the effects of PCBs. Clare had seen Russ Van Alstyne rarely, and mostly from a distance, since last December, when they had first struck up a friendship while unraveling the mystery surrounding an infant abandoned on the steps of St. Alban’s. It had been so easy, to talk and laugh and just be herself with him, without worrying about that man- woman thing because, after all, he was married. Very married, as she had told her church secretary. It still smarted that she had been so completely unaware of her own emotions all the while. She had been Saul on the road to Damascus, oblivious until a moment’s revelation struck her and she realized she had fallen for him. It was embarrassing, that’s what it was. It was embarrassing and something she was going to get over.
When Clare glanced back at him, he was looking straight at her. Even across the room she could see the summer sky–blue of his eyes glinting beneath his glasses. Her face heated up as he continued to look at her, his thin lips quirking into something like a smile. She pasted a pleasant expression on her face and gave him a small wave. He glanced next to her, frowned, and then looked back at her. He pointed and mouthed something.
“I think Russ Van Alstyne wants to speak with you,” she said.
“Hmm? The chief? Where? I didn’t know he was at this meeting.”
