Page 34 of Finding Home
Madeline frowned. “My client has invested fourteen months and substantial capital in a project your county fast-tracked. The permit suspension, regardless of what triggered it, halts all construction activity effective immediately.”
“We understand the inconvenience—”
Madeline set her pen down. “It’s not an inconvenience, Commissioner. It’s a financial crisis.”
Cole’s jaw tightened.
Voss, the insurance man, cleared his throat. “Regarding the arson claim. Our initial assessment suggests there are questions around the security protocol in place at the time of the incident.”
Cole looked at him. “We had a contracted overnight security firm on-site.”
“Two guards. For a four-acre development site with significant materials storage.” Voss flipped a page in the folder in front of him. “Our policy language specifies reasonable precautions proportional to risk. We may need to revisit what constitutes reasonable in this context.”
The words landed without drama. That was the worst kind.
Julie had sat in rooms like this before, covering stories about other people’s disasters. She’d always been able to separate herself from what she was witnessing. The notebook in her hand, or the absence of one, today, had always been the thing that kept a clean line between her and the wreckage.
There was no notebook today, and no line.
After another twenty minutes and language that meant the insurance payout was in dispute, and the permits were suspended, Madeline requested a brief recess. The commissioners stepped into the corridor. Voss remained seated, studying his folder.
Noah leaned across Cole. “The investors got wind of a potential permit suspension this morning. Jensen just sent me a text. He wants us to call him this afternoon. He used the word reassess.”
Cole sighed. “That’s what I’ve been worried about.”
Julie said nothing. Outside in the corridor, someone’s shoes made a slow, deliberate sound on the tile.
The recess stretched to fifteen minutes. When the commissioners returned, Gerald Petrie sat down and looked directly at Cole.
“We’ll work as fast as we can,” he said. “But the review period is sixty days minimum. Our regulations don’t allow us any flexibility.”
Sixty days. Julie did the math against the timeline Cole had given her. Sixty days of suspended permits meant no construction draws, continued loan interest on capital not moving, and investors who’d already started making contingency plans.
Cole thanked the commissioners and shook hands.
They walked out into the pale November morning together. Madeline went ahead to make some calls and Noah fell back.
Cole and Julie reached his truck first, and he stood beside the driver’s door without opening it.
Julie waited.
Cole’s gaze moved across the parking lot without settling on anything. A delivery truck rumbled past on the street beyond the building. Somewhere behind them, Madeline was speaking in low, clipped sentences into her phone.
“I have to decide today,” Cole told her. “Whether to draw down my personal reserves and carry the project through the review period, or—”
He stopped.
“Or walk away,” Julie said.
Cole didn’t answer that directly. “If I use my own money, and the insurance claim doesn’t come through, I’m in trouble. If Jensen pulls his funding, the resort won’t be built.”
Julie was devastated for Cole and Noah, not only because the resort would have been an incredible asset to Sapphire Bay, but because of what it meant to Cole.
Noah walked up to Cole. “I just spoke to Jensen. Does a two o’clock call suit you?” He studied Cole’s pale face. “I can handle it if you need more time.”
“I’ll do it.” Cole reached for his keys. His hand was steady. His voice was steady. Everything about him was steady in the way that cost something.
Julie watched him unlock the truck.
