EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER 1
“I rode by a big sign for a new resort.” He frowned. “Right at the South Lick town limits. What’s going on with that?”
I groaned. “What isn’t going on with that? Some real estate developer wants to build a huge luxury resort right on top of one of the loveliest hills in the county. They’re going to have a spa, tennis courts, swimming, gourmet meals, the works, and they expect to draw paying guests from all over the country. Maybe the world. People around here are really steamed about it. That is, half the people are, and the other half want it to go through.”
“What’s the developer’s name?” Gregory asked. “I might know him. I practice real estate and environmental law, as I think I mentioned.”
“It’s a she,” I said. “Fiona Closs.”
He thought, then shook his head slowly. “No, I guess I don’t. Let me guess. The conflict is your basic NIMBY versus employment. Am I correct?”
“You are, Counselor,” I said. “The Not-In-My-Back-Yard contingent are worried about traffic, about ruining the view, about cutting down trees, about all those strangers coming to stay at a resort far from town and possibly not shopping locally.”
“Let me guess. The rest of the county wants jobs building the resort and providing services,” Lou said.
“That happened up north near Lafayette where I grew up. It turned out the service jobs weren’t so great, and the construction didn’t end up being locally sourced. Lots of bad feelings resulted.”
“I can understand both sides,” I offered. “I doubt I would lose breakfast customers to the resort, and this county has a lot of people who are pretty hard up. They could use the jobs. On the other hand, destroying a hilltop doesn’t make much sense to me.”
Gregory pushed his already drying hair back off his forehead. “Is the NIMBY group organized? Do they have a leader, a spokesperson?”
“It’s my Aunt Adele, in fact,” I said. “She’s right in the thick of it. She says it makes her feel like she’s doing something worthwhile again. She was apparently quite the protester back in the sixties.”
“I can totally see that, Robbie,” Lou said. “She’s a toughie, your aunt.”
“I’ll say.” Adele was the reason I, a California girl, was here in southern Indiana at all, instead of back in Santa Barbara where I’d grown up. After my mom died suddenly, my aunt had taken me to visit a country store full of antique cookware. We were surprised to learn the store was for sale. Adele encouraged me to buy it, and now I was the proud proprietor of Pans ’N Pancakes. It was a popular breakfast and lunch restaurant in a renovated country store, with vintage cooking implements for sale and three B&B rooms upstairs. I was living my dream, complete with an apartment behind
