“You go on in. I'll finish tying up and bring in the cooler.” I tossed her the empty canvas bag that had held our lunch.
“Sounds good.” Brooke nodded, her light blonde hair catching in the wind and whipping around her face. “Thanks, though. You're the best.”
“That's what everyone tells me these days,” I replied with a laugh. Brooke picked up the rest of her equipment and hurried down the dock toward the house. The storm was coming in fast. I could see the rain creeping toward the island along the ocean in thick gray sheets. I finished lashing down the rest of the boat, grabbed the cooler, and hurried to the backdoor in an effort to beat the rain.
Thunder shook the windows as I fought the wind to open the kitchen door. The storm was picking up and tossing the leaves of the palm trees around like they were in a crazy dance party. The t-shirt and shorts I had changed into to work on the boat flapped wildly around my body as I struggled with the door. With a loud slam, the wind shut the heavy storm-door behind me, and I set the cooler down. The room was dark and gray, since the light was off and it was so cloudy outside. I ran a hand up to smooth my windblown hair, moving the cooler with my foot so that it rested against the wall and out of the way.
“Izzy?”
I startled, looking up at the kitchen entrance. Standing in the doorway to the next room was Doc, his arms uncharacteristically crossed in front of him. I wasn't sure if it was just the gray light of the storm, but he looked older. Tired. Where I was used to smiles and light, dark lines were now etched into the planes of his face. Something was wrong.
“You scared me,” I said, putting a hand to my chest. My heart was pounding, and my palms were suddenly sticky with sweat. The grim look on Doc's face frightened me. “Did something happen to Devon or Lucas?”
“Devon and Lucas are fine,” Doc answered. His face crumpled a little, but he did his best to hide it. “I need to talk to you.”
He turned and walked into the living room, and I followed. Something bad had happened. Something he wasn't looking forward to telling me. A small table lamp was on in the living room, casting strange shadows on the fish tanks and adding to the deepening sense of gloom. The wind howled outside.
As I entered the room, Devon stormed past me. His face was pale against his freckles, and his eyes flashed with anger. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought there might have been tear marks on his cheeks. He hurried through the kitchen, slamming the door behind him as he went out into the storm. My heart rate ticked up higher. Something was definitely very wrong.
Doc sat down on one of the ancient couches, looking weary and worn. The pale yellow light of the lamp wasn't kind to him and only accentuated the length of his nose and the age of his skin. I didn't see Lucas, but Doc had said he was okay. Nothing could have happened to Brooke in the thirty seconds since I had seen her. Worry clutched at the pit of my stomach.
“What's going on?” I asked, peering through the dark kitchen doorway after Devon. He was probably on his way to Mimi's. I hoped he got there before the rain hit.
“You should sit down, Isabel.” Doc's voice was low and guarded. No one called me Isabel. Ever. Unless it was something bad. Something very bad.
“Doc?” I sat carefully on a worn, tan-colored easy chair. At least, I assumed it had been tan at some point in its life. The chair was probably older than I was.
Doc stared at my feet for a second before looking up. There was defeat in his clear green eyes.
“We didn't get the Grove.”
I heard the words, but my brain refused to comprehend them. This wasn't possible.
“What do you mean?” I barely squeaked. “We had enough money... the grants and the donations... and...”
“Someone outbid us at the last minute,” Doc interrupted gently. He reached out across the small space and put a hand on my knee. The air seemed to be leaking out of the room somehow, leaving me short of breath. “The lawyers say they can't release who won the bid until the sale is final, but some of the comments they let slip don't bode well. It sounds like a hotel company.”
The foundations of my world were crumbling. The Grove was supposed to be my project. My future. I had so many hopes and dreams for research, conservation, and education, and they were all fading before my eyes. If a hotel company had bought the land, the Grove was going to be destroyed. There was no way a fancy tourist hotel would want the mangroves taking over their beach front property. It had happened to other mangrove groves in too many places to count. They would raze the Grove to get at the beach underneath. The island's government wouldn't stop it, because another hotel would bring in more tourist money.