newspaper. Comics, Sports, Lifestyles-all in 3-D! Technology!”
“Slow down,” Jake said. Gary breathed.
“It’s perfect though, isn’t it?”
They reached the entry to the banquet space. Jake adjusted the gear and found a free hand. Somehow. He opened the heavy door.
“Gary, I think that when people say newspapers should use technology, they’re talking about the internet.”
“When you come over to see the photos I developed, I’ll show you my old 3-D glasses. Can you do 3-D pictures on the internet?”
He didn’t answer. Jerry Rubenstein was gesturing to them from the corner of the room. It was a large space with wood detailing on the wall, and a formal stage with rich curtains stood in front. Jerry seemed like another decoration. Luxurious. The inside of a portrait, he was Palmstead’s portly king. He needed a drumstick in his hand. Instead he had a leash. The dog barked as they walked closer.
“Jake,” Jerry shouted, “Coconut remembers you!”
Gary whispered.
“That dog’s name is Coconut?”
They stepped over the hardwood floor, their shoes squeaking and clicking. The space was nicer than Giordano’s-both on the outside and inside. It was obvious that the only reason Rothschild hadn’t rented it for his own banquet was because the room belonged to the competition. The hall was full of extras. Extra lighting. Extra windows. And Rubenstein had extra chins. They reached him and Jake shook his hand. Coconut stayed calm.
“Jerry,” Jake said, “this is Gary Novak. He’s my photographer. He’ll be taking some shots of the space.”
“It’s wonderful to meet you.”
“It’s a beautiful space!” Gary shouted. “And this dog. It’s a Labrador?”
“No, he is actually a Schnoodle.”
“Are the two similar?”
“Not really.” He shook Gary’s hand. “No, not at all.”
Jake got out his notebook.
“What’s a Schnoodle?”
“Ah, it is a wonderful breed. A delicate cross between a schnauzer and a poodle. Very easy to train. And very nice, aren’t we?”
Coconut barked on cue. Gary seemed to consider leaning down to pet her, but instead he pushed his cane forward slowly. The dog approached it tentatively before stepping away.
“I should have dipped it in bacon!” Gary said. “I bet they do that in Ethiopia, for hunting.”
“I’m sure,” Jake said and unloaded the camera. “This is our room to shoot. I might ask Mr. Rubenstein a few questions about the space.”
He set the rest of the gear in front of Gary and led Jerry to another side of the room. While he walked, Jerry held his arm out halfway, letting the dog lead him on the leash. Jake leaned in closely.
“Gary’s a good photographer. He obviously doesn’t have dogs. And apparently he’s never even seen a Labrador.”
“I can’t hold that against a man like him. I wish I could photograph so well.”
“Have you seen his work?”
“Marvelous shots of palm trees.”
“I see.”
Jake looked around the room and listened as the smallest sounds echoed.
“This is a great space. Aged beautifully. I was at Giordano’s the other night and it was fine on the inside. But this is beautiful on the inside and out.”
“So, you were at Giordano’s were you? I’m guessing Simeon Rothschild invited you.”
“Yes.” He didn’t want Jerry to know that he’d been on a date with Mel. He might think she had compromised his reporting. Jerry didn’t seem to care either way.
“Funny that. Simeon used to invite me. I noticed because this year was the first I didn’t receive an invitation to celebrate ‘his life and charity.’ I can’t say I was offended. Or that I was surprised. He’s beginning to think he’ll never overtake Palmstead.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. He’s been trying to march past us for years. But he hasn’t had luck. Has he Coconut?”
The dog sniffed Jake’s shoes excitedly.
“I see,” Jake said. He wrote it all down. “Well, you missed a hell of an event. I couldn’t believe it. Halfway through, some environmentalist maniac jumped on a table. He held a protest during the banquet. We thought he might have a gun, or a bomb or something. He left peacefully, but it was quite a show.”
“It makes sense.” Jerry tugged Coconut closer. “The Development Proposition is coming to a vote so soon. The environmentalists are targeting Simeon every chance they get. They think he’s first in line to benefit. If people vote ‘Yes’ on the Proposition and allow development in the wetlands, he’ll jump on it. He’s had his eye on it for a long time.”
“Do you think he’d develop there?”
“I have no doubt he’d love to. It’s a real fight.”
Jake looked around the banquet room. Thick walls here. Gary was taking pictures of the wide stage and its rich curtains. Jake turned to Jerry and drew a dash in his notebook.
“Would you develop there, on the wetlands?”
“We can’t. We don’t have it planned into our budget. And we’d feel uncomfortable doing it, even if the Development Proposition passed.”
“I see.” He wrote it all down. The competition was supposed to be over between Palmstead and Rothschild. But the Development Proposition might change the story. Any space for new communities could change the game in Rothschild’s favor.
“Enough of that,” Jake said, only after he’d written it all down. “Let’s learn about the space.”
Jerry told him about the banquet hall and Jake dutifully recorded all of it. It would be turned into a neat paragraph, one with tailored sentences and close-cropped clauses. He watched as Gary polished off a roll of film. Rothschild hadn’t mentioned the upcoming vote on the Development Proposition. That meant something.
“You’d love to put a Palmstead building on that land, wouldn’t you?”
“We would,” Jerry admitted. “But it just doesn’t make sense. Development costs are high, the community would be upset. Too many risks. And we don’t need it that badly. We’re already able to have our brochures say we’re the biggest developers in the Sarasota area.”
“Does that really matter?”
“You know your readers,” Jerry said and smiled. “Don’t you think they want the biggest and the best for what’s probably their last major purchase? We don’t do a lot of market research, but what we have done shows it makes a big difference. Our buyers are naturally competitive people. They’re New Yorkers.”
“I guess so.”
Gary walked up to them. The tripod was still set up across the room, but he held the camera in his free hand.
“Mr. Rubenstein, let’s get a shot of you by those curtains. And we’ll get Coco by there too.”
“Coconut, Mr. Novak. Please do be careful. Coconut is a tremendously sensitive animal.”
The dog started barking and running in circles. He did little hops around Jerry’s leg and circled it like a cone. Jerry walked over toward the stage and stretched out his arms. Jake stood next to Gary and whispered.
“Something’s up.”
“What?” Gary yelled.
“Nothing. I’ll tell you later.”
“Tell me what later?” Gary said. Loudly. Jerry looked up and Jake pulled at Gary’s arm.
“Later. Just take the picture.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me now?”
“Gary-take it.”
He snapped and Jake exhaled.
