Lovely looked at Bruce, a man she trusted because he had never wanted anything from her. It was the other way around. They met when she came to his store and needed his advice about selling her self-published book. He showed her respect, spent time with her, and cautioned that such books were hard to sell. He put hers in the front window, under the “Local Authors” section, and treated her like a real writer.

“What do you think about it, Bruce?” she asked.

“It depends on how hard you’re willing to fight. Lawsuits are no fun, regardless of how strong you believe in your case.”

“If you were in my shoes?”

“I’d pay Steven here the five dollars and tell him to start the war over the title. And I would spend time with Mercer and let her describe the book she wants to write.”

She looked at Steven and said, “I’m an old woman without much time left. I don’t want to spend my final days all knotted up in a court fight. How long will this take?”

Steven smiled and scratched his gray beard. “There are two issues here, both equally important. The first is who owns Dark Isle. That will be a local fight in the courthouse just down the street and it should take about a year. If you win, the company, Tidal Breeze, will appeal to the state Supreme Court. That’s another year or so. If you lose, then we’ll appeal. So in about two years we should know who has the title to the property, who’s the true owner. If it’s you, then everything is finished, no more court fights. However, if you lose and Tidal Breeze gets title to the island, then the bigger fight will be over its development. That will be in federal court and could easily take five to ten years. But you will not be a party to that litigation.”

Her shoulders sagged and she suddenly seemed tired and older. She shook her head and said, “I just don’t understand all this. How can someone else claim our island? It’s mine because I’m the last one of my people. Nobody ever wanted Dark Isle. Nobody built schools or roads or even put in electricity. Nobody cared about us. So, we took care of ourselves and we certainly took care of our island. It was the only home we knew. Now, all the rightful owners are gone but me. Everybody else has passed. I’m the true owner of my island and it’s wrong for somebody else to say otherwise.”

Her eyes were moist and her voice cracked. The room was perfectly still.

Steven, the trial lawyer, suppressed a smile as he envisioned her in a courtroom, explaining her views on ownership to a judge. Mercer, the writer, wanted to start scribbling to capture every word.

Finally, Thomas said, “May I ask a question?”

“Of course,” Steven said.

“Do you expect Tidal Breeze to file a lawsuit to clear the title?”

“Yes, certainly. In fact, I’m surprised the company has not already done so. I know it has filed some preliminary notices with the Department of Natural Resources and, immediately, there was a question about ownership. The company has been snooping around the island for at least a year or so.”

Bruce asked, “Is there an advantage in being the first to file a lawsuit?”

“Perhaps a slight advantage, but all interested parties will have plenty of time to jump in.”

“And it has to be decided by a court in this county?”

“Yes, same as all title disputes. The company can’t run to federal court or anywhere else.”

“And you know the local judges?”

“Sure, but it won’t matter. Tidal Breeze will hire a bunch of local lawyers to get in the way. We have good judges here and they’ll do what’s right.”

Lovely folded her hands in her lap and looked at Miss Naomi, who said, “Well, we certainly have a lot to think about, don’t we? I’m sure the girls have picked out ten books each.”

“I sure hope so,” Bruce quipped.

Chapter Four

The Contract

1

Gifford’s idea of a book tour was to sail his yacht from its home port near Charleston down to St. Augustine in Florida, then up to the Outer Banks of North Carolina for a stop in the coastal town of Manteo. He liked the bookstore there because it drew crowds when he was in town, and also because its owner was an old girlfriend he was still fond of. He finished a book every three years and usually got a new wife once he turned in a fresh manuscript. He’d had so many, books and wives. They, the exes, came and went because they inevitably got bored living on a boat in Charleston’s harbor.

On each tour he visited the same thirteen bookstores and was never in a hurry. His signings went on for hours as his fans waited patiently for a word and an autograph. The exploits of his protagonist, Bake Boudreau, had been entertaining readers for over twenty years and Gifford couldn’t write fast enough. Not for his fans, anyway. However, his pace suited him perfectly since he could hammer one out in six months, then travel and play golf the rest of the year. Truth was, he was quite lazy and needed plenty of down time between tours.