Miss Naomi was stylish too, dressed for church or some gathering, but no match for her friend. Mercer guessed her age to be around sixty-five. Lovely claimed 1940 as her birth year, making her eighty, but she looked younger than Miss Naomi. Her eyes were a lighter shade, still brown but not dark. There was distant white blood in the family.
Around the table they struggled with the small talk. Bruce carried the ball and asked what the girls liked to read. Thankfully, Miss Naomi was a chatterbox and she and Bruce went back and forth. Steven, the lawyer, was hesitant to jump in. He was there to meet a potential client for a case he didn’t really want, and there was an excellent chance the prospective client had no use for him. At some point, Mercer would be forced to tell Lovely that she wanted to write a book about her and her island, but she wasn’t sure how to broach that subject.
Lovely sat regally in the leather chair and offered a tight smile, as if it was difficult. She seemed to be taking in everyone and everything and debating whether or not she liked what she was seeing. Her eyes glowed with a fierceness that did not spread to the rest of her face.
When Bruce began to flail, Mercer said, “I just read your book, Ms. Jackson. It’s a great story.”
The smile widened and she said, “Please call me Lovely. Everybody else does, including children. Jackson was the name given to my ancestors. They didn’t ask for it, didn’t like it, but they had no choice. For years I’ve thought about changing my name but, I’m told, that would force me to go to court.”
“Court” was the opening Steven needed, but the timing seemed bad. He let it pass.
Lovely said, “I’m so glad you enjoyed my book.” A careful voice, rich with a soft Southern accent. Mercer was floored when she said, “And I enjoyed yours.
“Thank you,” Mercer said. It seemed odd receiving condolences from a person whose family had suffered as much as Lovely’s, but that was ancient history now. Or was it?
Mercer continued, “If possible, I’d like to talk to you about writing your story. I find it fascinating.”
“But I’ve already written it. And we’ve sold how many copies, Bruce?”
Twenty-seven to be exact, but he wasn’t about to embarrass her. “Don’t know for sure. I’ll have to check.”
Lovely smiled again and said, “Not very many. Stories about old slaves are a dime a dozen.”
Mercer said, “Maybe, but the story is not over. Your island is about to be in the center of another storm.”
“Yes, so they say. Naomi and I have read every word in the newspaper. I don’t know why they can’t just leave us alone. The island is mine. My ancestors are buried there. I would live there if I could, but I was forced to leave many years ago. You know the story. It’s in my book.”
“I do. But I’d like to tell the rest of the story.”
“Is there a happy ending?” she asked with a smile.
“I don’t know. Maybe Steven could answer that.”
Lovely glared at Steven and the smile vanished. She had been warned that a lawyer might be present. He made eye contact, could not maintain it, glanced away, and said, “I’m not your typical lawyer, Lovely. I don’t get paid. I work for a nonprofit foundation based here on the island, and we try to protect the environment. The developer who wants your island will hire a thousand lawyers if it has to, and it will be a tough case to win. My nonprofit is willing to go to court and fight to keep these bad guys away from Dark Isle.”
“You need my permission?”
“Not really. We can join any effort to stop developers and protect natural areas, but it would be nice to have you sign a contract and hire us to protect your rights.”
“So I would have to pay you?”
“There would be a small fee up front.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know, say five dollars.”
Everyone needed a laugh and enjoyed one. Steven felt like he was on a roll and kept going, “The first step is to beat them to the courthouse and file a lawsuit to get a good title. It’s called an action to quiet a title. Legal jargon. That will start a big fight in the court and it will drag on for some time. You will be named as the plaintiff, another legal term, which means you’re the person bringing the lawsuit.”
Steven had an easy manner and talked like a layman. Bruce had never seen him in action before but had heard that he was smooth in the courtroom. He’d also found old articles that described some of his Sierra Club brawls. In his day, he had owned the courtroom.
“And there’s no way around this?” Lovely asked.
“I’m afraid not if you want to keep your island and protect it. This company, Tidal Breeze, has a long history of big developments, primarily in Florida. It plays hardball and usually wins. Unfortunately for you, and I suppose for all of us who want to preserve nature, the company has now discovered Dark Isle and is coming after it.”
“Why?”
“Because they smell money, and lots of it. This is just what they do.”
