More out of surprise than anything, Charlotte and I both stopped and looked at Sophie, who was staring intently at the TV. The seven o’clock news had just started, and the top story actually had to do with Willow Bay – for once.
“Thanks for joining us, I’m Tony Schmidt,” the salt-and-pepper haired white dude who looked like every other newscaster ever started. “Tonight, our top story: the small community of Willow Bay is about to get a lot bigger, as the controversial Ocean Mist Resort project just today received approval from the state of Oregon to begin building on four plots of land. Here with a statement is the head of the Ocean Mist project, Zoe Wright.”
The screen switched to a shot of a woman in a suit standing on the beach, her hair and makeup absolutely perfect.
“I’m thrilled to announce that the state government has given us permission to build the Ocean Mist Resort on the land purchased three years ago by the company,” she told the group of reporters. “We’re scheduled to begin construction in two months, and in just over a year we will be welcoming over a hundred thousand extra visitors to Willow Bay every year.”
Sophie grabbed the remote and turned off the TV in disgust.
“Hey, you were the one who wanted to listen,” I told her.
“Yeah, well, what was said disgusts me,” she replied. I nodded in agreement. For the last two years the Ocean Mist people had been trying to get their project approved. They were building a huge resort on the beach a little ways outside of town. Their resort was going to have over 500 rooms, six pools, two spas and all the fixings. Their plan was to put Willow Bay on the map, and it had been quite a point of contention in the local community. Some people thought it was a good thing; the extra visitors would add to the local economy, Willow Bay would become a bigger town, there’d be more jobs, that sort of thing. But others, including Sophie, Charlotte and myself, worried that a sterile resort that could house almost as many people as lived in the town, would destroy the small-town atmosphere and quaint little town feel the resort currently enjoyed.
Unfortunately, the decision wasn’t up to us, and the decision that was made wasn’t what we were hoping for.
“I guess we’re not celebrating anymore,” Charlotte said, shrugging her shoulders. “That sucks.”
“We have to do something,” Sophie declared angrily, cutting the mushrooms with renewed vigour.
“Yeah, well, chopping those mushrooms up into dust isn’t going to do much,” I told her, raising an eyebrow. Realizing that maybe she was going a little bit overboard, Sophie stopped cutting.
“It’s just such a bad idea. The state legislators, they don’t have a clue about this town. Sure, some of them come and spend a few days here in the summer but that’s it!”
“You don’t have to convince me,” I told her. “But what can we do?” I grabbed a jar of black beans and handed it to Charlotte to open.
“Anything. Shouldn’t doing anything be better than nothing?” Sophie had always been the type to act before she thought. I knew she was trying to figure out if we could sneak out there in the middle of the night and set the whole area on fire, or something.
“If you come up with a solid plan, a legal plan,” I emphasized, “I’ll be happy to help. But for now, I’m starving and I want to eat so let’s focus on this food.”
Twenty minutes later the enchiladas were cooked, a salad was made and we were sitting down in front of the TV to eat. I loved my recipe for vegetarian enchiladas. I’d been a vegetarian for most of my life; it’s hard to bring yourself to eat meat when you can have a chat with the beef cattle and the sheep at the side of the road.
“Mmmm, these are awesome, Sophie,” Charlotte told her as she bit into the cheezy, gooey pile on her plate.
“I helped!” I argued.
“You chopped some peppers and opened a can, I’m taking full credit,” Sophie retorted, shoving a giant forkful in her mouth, a string of cheese getting stuck to the side of her chin.
“Some people can’t do that elegantly,” I teased, taking a biteful myself. They were damn good enchiladas. Charlotte and Sophie were both good cooks, I could make a decent grilled cheese but not much more than that.
“I think you did a great job,” Bee told me, sitting on the armchair next to me, eyeing my plate with a look that told me it wasn’t going to be safe to leave my food unattended.
“Stop sucking up, Bee, you’ve had your dinner,” I scolded the cat, making sure to cover the side of my plate with my arm so she couldn’t go for a sneak attack at my food.
“Since we’re celebrating me, and my total awesomeness in every respect, I declare that we should watch two Parks and Rec re-runs before I have to go study,” Charlotte announced, grabbing the TV remote and flipping over to Netflix.
“Works for me,” I replied, leaning back into the chair. Maybe this resort was going to change everything. But for now, everything in Willow Bay was just the way it always had been. Perfect. Little did I know how quickly all that was going to change.
Chapter 3
“Are you coming?” I shouted down the hall. “We’re going to be late for work!”
“What’s the point of being your own boss if you can’t be late every once in a while?” Sophie grumbled as she came out of her room, her hair – bright purple streak and all – tied back in a ponytail, wearing scrubs. Sophie worked as a vet tech at the clinic, and we carpooled to work pretty much every day.
“You’re not your own boss, I’m your boss,” I reminded her. Bee meowed her agreement with me. Bee was always in a rush to get to the vet clinic, where she spent about 90% of the day lying on her bed purring contentedly when people came by and pat her.
“Whatever, close enough,” she muttered as we headed out the door. Charlotte had left for her classes an hour ago, so I locked up behind us as Sophie started the car and we drove into town.
Sophie definitely had what could be referred to as a lead foot. No matter how many times I – and the police chief Gary Banks – reminded her that the speed limit in town was 30 mph, Sophie insisted on doing at least 50. We screeched around the corner onto the main road, where Sophie stopped in front of the vet clinic to drop me off before going to park around the back. Bee jumped out of the car with me.
I got out of the car and rummaged through my purse to find my keys. Grabbing them and adjusting my purse back onto my shoulder, I made my way to the front of the clinic, only to find that the front window had been smashed and the door unlocked.
My blood instantly went cold.
Had I been robbed? Thank goodness there weren’t any animals staying overnight right now.
I wasn’t really worried about drugs, or money. After all, it was a vet clinic, so we didn’t exactly keep cupboards full of oxy and vicodin around, and what drugs we did have were locked up. Karen, the receptionist, took the little cash business we did every day to the bank, so I knew there wouldn’t be any money missing, either.
But I’d hoped that whoever had done this – some bored kids, maybe? - had left the equipment alone.
A part of me wanted to stay outside and call the cops. I had Chief Gary’s private number. I could just call him, and he’d be here in five minutes. After all, what if it was some drug-addled person from the city and they were still in there? Or a robber who was still there too?
But a part of me knew I didn’t want to wait five minutes. And I also knew Sophie would be here in a minute, and there was no way in hell she was going to wait, and I didn’t want her to find out what had happened before I did.
“Stay out here, Bee,” I ordered.
“You realize you’re not my boss, right?” Bee answered, licking her paw. From her spot on the ground I figured she didn’t see the problem.
“I’m your owner, though, and that’s pretty much the same thing. Stay out here.”