Page 25 of Say Something
“Not much that’s pressing aside from the Miller/Bostick property dispute.”
“What’s going on there?” I recalled the big Miller farm just outside the town limits near the rec fields, but the Bostick name was new to me.
“The Bosticks own the land adjacent to the Millers, what used to be Chester Cameron’s place.”
“The Camerons moved?” They were one of the founding families of Oak River. That news surprised me.
“Chester Cameron passed away two years ago, a year after his wife, Betsy. The kids weren’t interested in the land and sold the place to Gerald Bostick. Big city guy who retired and wanted to turn the Cameron farm into a vineyard.”
“Is the land right for that kind of crop?”
“Nope,” George chuckled. “But he tries like hell every year.”
I laughed with him. “So what’s the dispute?”
George sat in the big leather chair behind the desk and sighed. Taking his lead, I sat at one of the guest chairs in front of his desk—my desk. It was still hard to believe this was my practice, especially with Mr. Smith here. He had such a commanding presence; I hoped the people in town would have the same faith in me as they had in him.
“Bostick has a big compost heap in the back corner of the property. Miller says the land the heap is on belongs to him. Neither party has been able to find paperwork or property maps that confirm or deny either claim.”
I wanted to roll my eyes. Both farms had to be hundreds of acres, and they were arguing over what probably amounted to no more than a couple hundred square feet. But that was small town life. I wasn’t in the “big city” anymore, and thank goodness for that. I had wanted the slow pace and low crime rate of Oak River. Speaking of crime…
“Any criminal cases?”
George raised his eyebrow. “In Oak River?”
I laughed. “Just thought I’d ask.”
“I think I’ve had maybe a handful of DUI cases over the years, but that’s about it. Not too much of that kind of thing happens in Oak River, and if it does, the public defender’s office in Smithfield usually takes it on since it’s free.” Smithfield was the county seat, holding the courts and the headquarters for law enforcement. It was where the local community college was, the train station, and shopping malls. Larger than our small town, Smithfield was still a small town itself.
Honestly, I was looking forward to the slow pace. Contract law wasn’t all that urgent, but everyone in the city had been in a rush and seemed to wait until the last minute to get things done. I was always given tasks that were due the following day, and I didn’t like constantly operating in emergency mode. Correction: I had enjoyed all the busy work when I needed to get away from my own thoughts, but once I started to find myself again, I found that it wasn’t all it had been cracked up to be.
“If you don’t mind, I think I’ll hang out here today while the guys are working in the house and review some of the open cases.”
“You don’t have to ask my permission, Jessica. The place is yours.”
Leaning back in my seat, I took another look around and sighed contentedly. Feeling that big swell of pride again, I smiled…it was mine. I could get used to feeling this good.
