Bruce sat down at his desk with a stack of the morning’s mail, a newspaper, and a cup of strong coffee. He was immediately greeted with the headline: “Tidal Breeze Announces Panther Cay Resort.” Half the front page was a colorful artist’s rendering of the planned overhaul of Dark Isle into Panther Cay, a fresh new name created by some clever folks in marketing. A giant casino was to sit in the middle of the island, with a music hall to seat five thousand and at least that many slot machines. Big-name bands and singers were virtually guaranteed, as were countless well-to-do gamblers. To the south of the casino was yet another 18-hole golf course for the deprived golfers of Florida, and for sure every fairway was lined with luxury homes and condos. To the north was a contrived village with stores, restaurants, and apartments. The sandy white beach on the Atlantic side was lined with hotels offering spectacular views of the ocean. On the bay side there were marinas with plenty of slips to accommodate all manner of boats, including, possibly, luxury yachts.
Something for everyone. Promises galore. The possibilities were endless. Tidal Breeze crowed about spending $600 million to bring Panther Cay to life. There was no mention of the projected profits from the development.
Missing from the slick art was the bridge to make it all possible, but a spokesman for Tidal Breeze said, “Our company stands ready to pay fifty percent of the total cost of the bridge, and we’ve been assured by the state of Florida that the legislature will appropriate the rest of the funds during its next session. When completed, Panther Cay will pay for the bridge with new taxes within five years.”
Bruce had heard otherwise. The real gossip making the rounds was that Tidal Breeze was already in bed with some state senators and would get the bridge built without putting up a dime. It was promising to repay $50 million, about half the cost, over a thirty-year period with money saved from tax exemptions. It was a murky, complicated deal still being hammered out in bars around Tallahassee.
A much smaller story on page two offered some rebuttal from environmental groups. Needless to say, they were horrified at the project and vowed a tough fight. One of the more radical lawyers blasted Tidal Breeze for its long history of broken promises, failed projects, and environmental abuses.
The battle lines were quickly being drawn.
Bruce had been on the island for twenty-five years. He had opened Bay Books on a whim when he was only twenty-four years old and too young to be frightened. He had just nicked some rare books from his father’s estate, sold most of them for around $200,000, and became enamored with the business. He bought the only bookstore on the island, renovated it, put in a café and coffee bar, changed its name, and opened the doors.
He loved Camino and wanted it to change slowly, if at all. Panther Cay was the most audacious attack yet on the laid-back, peaceful lifestyle enjoyed by those attracted to the island and the town of Santa Rosa. From its downtown harbor, Panther Cay would be a twenty-minute boat ride away. The bright, gaudy lights of the resort would ruin the views to the west.
Bruce was somewhat confident the county supervisors would block it. However, with that much money in play, nothing was certain. At least two of the five supervisors were constantly spouting pro-growth nonsense.
He chuckled at the new name. If there had been a panther sighting within a hundred miles of Dark Isle, he wasn’t aware of it. There were only two hundred or so left in Florida. The species was highly endangered and lived near the Everglades. There was a beach called Panther Key on an island south of Naples.
But “Panther Cay” had a catchy ring to it and worked well in the promotional materials. There was already a website but it offered little.
His cell phone buzzed and he smiled at it. “Mercer, my dear, I was just thinking of you.”
“I’m sure you were. Hello, Bruce. How’s the island?”
“Still here. Miss me on your honeymoon?”
“Not at all. We’re having a grand time. Right now we’re on a train, the
“Sounds lovely. Nothing to report here, except that a rogue corporation from Miami just announced a six-hundred-million-dollar resort on Dark Isle, now known as Panther Cay, at least that’s what the corporation is calling it. Other than that, things are quiet. There was a bar fight last Saturday at the Pirate’s Saloon.”
“I finished the book flying over. What an amazing story. Would it be possible to meet Lovely Jackson?”
“I can probably arrange that. As I said, she comes in twice a year and we have coffee. She’s a real character, but kind of spooky.”
“And you think she might cooperate if I write this story?”
“I don’t know. That’s the question. The only way to know is to ask her.”
