A Shore Thing Read Online Free PDF Page A

maybe they can sell the property to someone else. Maybe the city should buy it for a park.”
    He scoffed. “Fat chance. Otter Bay is synonymous with ‘cash-strapped’ these days.”
    “Oh, shush. Financial hard times or not, this is one of the most beautiful spots on earth. All I’m asking is for help in collecting information.”
    The tone of Bobby’s voice turned lighter. “That’s it? Collecting info, huh? Sounds more like you’re building a case.”
    My sigh was drenched in exasperation. “Against a project that just might ruin Otter Bay forever!”
    This time Bobby’s sigh blew through the receiver. “I don’t know why you always fight so hard, but okay. You can start by calling the National Marine Sanctuary office. Try searching Google for the number.”
    I scribbled that down. “Check. What next?”
    “How should I know?”
    “What about your friend . . . the money guy? He seems well-connected.”
    “Henry? No, no. He’s a private guy who prefers to stay out of the limelight. Let’s keep him out of this. Besides what he told me was said in confidence—and secondhand.”
    “But he may—”
    “He’s off-limits, Callie.”
    I huffed. “Okay. Fine. Thanks for the advice.”
    “Callie?”
    My mouth twisted into a pucker. “Hmm?”
    “I hope you get somewhere with all this.”
    I thanked my brother and hung up. Although I always put two feet forward into any situation that caught my heart, my family seemed to believe this would be my undoing. I finished college in three years including summers and took mostly night classes so I could keep the days open for whatever cause came my way: working at the garden co-op, teaching school children how to grow pumpkins from seeds, volunteering in the fight to keep the library open, things like that. After graduation, there was the interior plant design business I opened with Justin . . .
    I turned to the computer, hoping to dig up the Sanctuary office phone number. Within seconds, the number appeared on the screen.
    “National Marine Sanctuary. How may I help you?”
    I cleared my throat. “I’m wondering about some property.”
    “We don’t sell real estate, ma’am.”
    I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to clear my head. Maybe Bobby was right. Certain things should not be tackled before the requisite caffeine boost. “Sorry. Listen, I’ve learned that property abutting a portion of the National Marine Sanctuary is being considered for a large development, and I’m wondering why this would be allowed.”
    The woman paused. Had I annoyed her? “I feel your frustration. I really do, but frankly, there is not much help we can offer you. We do not regulate development in the coastal zone, unless of course the structure is to be constructed over the water. Is that the case?”
    “I’m not sure. All I know is that there are plans for some kind of mixed-use development—which would be great in town.”
    “But probably not-so-terrific along federally protected waters. I hear you.”
    My heart lifted. “So you might be able to help?”
    “I wish we could, but you see, our jurisdiction does not extend inland beyond the mean high tide line. My guess is that you would have to work within your local jurisdictions for permitting clarifications on upland developments.”
    “I understand.”
    “Miss?”
    “Yes?”
    “Good luck.”
    My heart sank and I glanced at the Sunday paper still spread across my kitchen table. Not one mention of an impending shoreline project lay within its pages. And although a tattered welcome flag furled and snapped in the wind from its perch on the Kitteridge home, there was still no sign of the elderly couple in Otter Bay.
    My mysterious doggy friend jostled my leg, and I gave him a pet while still sorting through my thoughts. It was going to take more than good luck to figure out what was really going on down by the shore.
    Monday, my usual day to plow through the housework left behind by a busy life, and yet here I was, taking