Barefoot in Pearls (Barefoot Bay Brides Book 3) by Roxanne St. Claire Page A
Authors: Roxanne St. Claire
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latest surveys for you.”
Instantly, Luke adjusted his opinion of the man’s tardiness, shaking his hand. “Great. I thought I had the latest.”
“I don’t think so.” His broad face, creased from years in the sun, broke into an easy smile. “Hate to say it, but your predecessor wasn’t the world’s greatest on filing paperwork on time.”
“Paperwork’s the bane of this job,” Luke said, going for humor but probably sounding bitter. He loathed the mountains of paperwork involved in building, but it came with the territory.
“Still, he sucked at filing anything.”
“So I don’t have all the surveys and inspections in the files I received?” Damn, that would be a problem.
“You do now.” He held out a brown Pendaflex folder nearly bursting at the seams. “I figured if you don’t see this now, we’ll never get my crew out here to put up the silt fence and start the grading. And time is money, Mr. McBain, as I’m sure you know.”
“Call me Luke.” He opened the file folder, immediately looking for the survey that would matter to Arielle. “Core sampling done?” That might be enough to appease her. Maybe.
“Shells.”
“Excuse me?” He looked up from the paper he’d just pulled out.
“The engineer broke two pipes and finally quit because that right there”—he pointed to the hill—“is one big mountain of seashells.”
Seashells, but not…bodies and bones. A wisp of hope curled through him. He’d done enough Internet research in the wee hours to know shell mounds were common here, and not protected. “A shell mound would be…” The answer to a prayer.
“A sonuvabitch to level,” Duane said with a humorless laugh. “Probably cost an extra two grand, which is what I told your predecessor and he told me to fu…forget it.” He grinned and lifted his cap bill a little to peer at Luke, as if waiting for the same response. “Mr. Purty had a way with words.”
“I’ll pay it,” Luke said quickly. “If you can prove to me that entire hill is ground-up seashells and nothing else, I’ll gladly pay you two grand.” Because his troubles would be over.
“I can’t prove much until we start moving dirt, but the core sampling is what’s been filed as an approved inspection. No need to dig any deeper or look for trouble where there isn’t any.” He tugged a thin blue paper from the file with the name of a geological engineering firm at the top. “That says that starting at about six feet from the top of the grade, it’s solid shell. Not as hard as rock, obviously, but still tough on equipment.”
“And nothing else? No…bones?”
Duane looked hard at him for a second, then suddenly burst into a belly laugh. “Scared of the dead Indians, are you?”
So it wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility. “I don’t want to start the project only to find out the land is protected and can’t be built on.”
“Damn, you are a better contractor than Jim Purty was, but, well…” He took off the hat and revealed thinning brown hair and a sweat-dampened brow. “That’s the thing that got his ass fired, just so you know.”
“He suspected the land is a burial ground?”
“He let all kinds of shit delay the project, and if you want to bring the government in here and a bunch of tomb-raider types who turn this into some kind of ‘dig,’ then knock yourself out, sir, but you’ll be the next general contractor to be fired.”
“Not if it’s the right thing to do under the law.”
Duane scowled at him. “Just who is it feeding you this burial-ground crap? You secretly working for the government or something?”
He considered how much to tell him. “There’s a local woman with ties to the Native American culture, and she seems to think it’s a possibility. All I want to do is make sure it isn’t. Have you run into that around here before?”
Duane snorted out a breath, clearly taking some time to choose his words correctly. “I don’t know this as a
Instantly, Luke adjusted his opinion of the man’s tardiness, shaking his hand. “Great. I thought I had the latest.”
“I don’t think so.” His broad face, creased from years in the sun, broke into an easy smile. “Hate to say it, but your predecessor wasn’t the world’s greatest on filing paperwork on time.”
“Paperwork’s the bane of this job,” Luke said, going for humor but probably sounding bitter. He loathed the mountains of paperwork involved in building, but it came with the territory.
“Still, he sucked at filing anything.”
“So I don’t have all the surveys and inspections in the files I received?” Damn, that would be a problem.
“You do now.” He held out a brown Pendaflex folder nearly bursting at the seams. “I figured if you don’t see this now, we’ll never get my crew out here to put up the silt fence and start the grading. And time is money, Mr. McBain, as I’m sure you know.”
“Call me Luke.” He opened the file folder, immediately looking for the survey that would matter to Arielle. “Core sampling done?” That might be enough to appease her. Maybe.
“Shells.”
“Excuse me?” He looked up from the paper he’d just pulled out.
“The engineer broke two pipes and finally quit because that right there”—he pointed to the hill—“is one big mountain of seashells.”
Seashells, but not…bodies and bones. A wisp of hope curled through him. He’d done enough Internet research in the wee hours to know shell mounds were common here, and not protected. “A shell mound would be…” The answer to a prayer.
“A sonuvabitch to level,” Duane said with a humorless laugh. “Probably cost an extra two grand, which is what I told your predecessor and he told me to fu…forget it.” He grinned and lifted his cap bill a little to peer at Luke, as if waiting for the same response. “Mr. Purty had a way with words.”
“I’ll pay it,” Luke said quickly. “If you can prove to me that entire hill is ground-up seashells and nothing else, I’ll gladly pay you two grand.” Because his troubles would be over.
“I can’t prove much until we start moving dirt, but the core sampling is what’s been filed as an approved inspection. No need to dig any deeper or look for trouble where there isn’t any.” He tugged a thin blue paper from the file with the name of a geological engineering firm at the top. “That says that starting at about six feet from the top of the grade, it’s solid shell. Not as hard as rock, obviously, but still tough on equipment.”
“And nothing else? No…bones?”
Duane looked hard at him for a second, then suddenly burst into a belly laugh. “Scared of the dead Indians, are you?”
So it wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility. “I don’t want to start the project only to find out the land is protected and can’t be built on.”
“Damn, you are a better contractor than Jim Purty was, but, well…” He took off the hat and revealed thinning brown hair and a sweat-dampened brow. “That’s the thing that got his ass fired, just so you know.”
“He suspected the land is a burial ground?”
“He let all kinds of shit delay the project, and if you want to bring the government in here and a bunch of tomb-raider types who turn this into some kind of ‘dig,’ then knock yourself out, sir, but you’ll be the next general contractor to be fired.”
“Not if it’s the right thing to do under the law.”
Duane scowled at him. “Just who is it feeding you this burial-ground crap? You secretly working for the government or something?”
He considered how much to tell him. “There’s a local woman with ties to the Native American culture, and she seems to think it’s a possibility. All I want to do is make sure it isn’t. Have you run into that around here before?”
Duane snorted out a breath, clearly taking some time to choose his words correctly. “I don’t know this as a
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