Page 54 of Until the Storm Breaks
Lark’s arm is still around my shoulders, solid and reassuring, and for now that’s enough. Just sitting here with my best friend, watching my dog dig holes, letting the sound of the waves wash over everything else.
CHAPTER 14
CALVIN
I’m pulling into the grocery store parking lot, thinking about getting something for dinner that isn’t leftover pizza, when my phone rings. Sheila Morrison’s name lights up the screen. Finally. I left her a voicemail yesterday asking for details about the sale, trying to find some loophole, some way to protect Maren.
“Calvin, sorry for the delay getting back to you.” Her voice sounds strange, careful, like she’s walking on eggshells. “I was in Seattle for a closing.”
“No problem. As I mentioned in my message, I know you and Dominic have largely been communicating, but I want to go over the terms. Specifically why the buyers are so firm about not including protection for the cabin rental. There has to be something we can negotiate.”
There’s a pause. Too long. The kind of pause that means bad news. “Calvin... you should probably talk to Dominic about those specifics.”
I put the truck in park, engine still running, AC blowing against the July heat. “Why? What aren’t you telling me?”
“Well...” Another pause, longer this time. “Calvin, you know it’s Verdant State, right? The wellness developer? Not a private family?”
The words hit like cold water. I grip the steering wheel harder, knuckles going white. “What?”
“Oh.” Her voice gets more uncomfortable, that tone people use when they realize they’ve stepped in something. “You didn’t know. Dominic said you were all on board with the development plan. They’ve already filed preliminary permits at the county. I thought... I assumed...”
“Development plan.” My voice sounds distant to my own ears.
“They’re creating a wellness center. They’re calling it Midnight Wellness, keeping the family name, which I suppose is something. But Calvin, it’s a complete teardown. Everything goes. The house, the cabins. That’s why they won’t agree to keeping any rentals. The whole property gets redeveloped. I’m sorry, Calvin. I really am. I assumed you knew. The plans are all public record at the county office if you want to see them. They filed permits weeks ago. Maybe months.”
My mind races through every conversation with Dominic. Every vague mention of “buyers.” Every time I brought up Maren’s cabin and he said he was “working on it.” The fucking bastard has been lying to my face for weeks.
“Thank you for telling me, Sheila.”
“Calvin, I’m sorry. This puts me in an awkward position with your brother?—”
“It’s not your fault,” I say. “I appreciate you being honest.”
After I hang up, I sit in the truck for thirty seconds, letting the rage build. My hands are shaking. Not just from anger but from the betrayal of it. Then I reverse out of the parking spot hard enough to make the tires squeal and head for the countyclerk’s office. I need to see exactly what my brother has planned.
That lying piece of shit.
The county office is quiet mid-morning, just the hum of fluorescent lights and ancient computers. Brenda looks up from her computer when I walk in, her face lighting up with recognition. She’s worked here since before I was born, knew my parents when they were young and full of plans.
“Calvin Midnight! I haven’t seen you in years.” Her face softens, that look people get. “So sorry about your mother. Susan was a special woman.”
“Thanks, Brenda. She was something special.” I manage what I hope looks like a normal smile, not the rictus of rage I’m feeling. “Listen, I need to see any permits filed for the Midnight property. Family business, you know how it is.”
“Of course, honey, let me pull those for you.” She disappears into the back, her shoes clicking on the old linoleum. She returns with a thick folder, heavier than I expected. “Here you go, hon. Take your time. Coffee’s fresh if you want some.”
“Thanks, I’m good.” I’m not sure I could keep anything down right now.
She settles back at her computer, tactfully giving me privacy to review the documents. I open the folder with hands that aren’t quite steady, needing to see the actual scope of what Dominic has planned.
I spread the papers across the counter, each page another betrayal. Complete demolition. Fifteen luxury wellness pods. A meditation center where Maren’s cabin sits. Yoga platforms on the bluff. Every tree over ten feet to be removed and replaced with “climate-appropriate therapeutic landscaping.” Even the old growth Douglas firs Dad refused to cut when he built the original house. Site plans that erase every trace of our childhood.
I knew he’d been working on the sale before Mom’s death,but to know it was for this complete destruction made me realize every board I’d replaced in the sunroom, every hour spent fixing what I thought would stand, had been pointless.
I photograph everything.
Back in the truck, I text Dominic:
Calvin:Need to talk. Now. Where are you?
