and theirs with senior management.
By the time they had traded jokes and stories, coordinated calendars and discussed the most important issues of the day, the morning was nearly over. Isaac got to the final item on the agenda.
“Pallatine Mountain.” He looked up. “Mr. Forsythe is still considering his options. No one’s heard any different?”
Heather, who had met with Gary Forsythe on the day Kendra was discharged from the rehabilitation hospital, turned up her hands. They were wide and capable, with blunt fingernails covered in clear polish. Heather always looked as if she had stepped off the Appalachian Trail into casual business clothes. Her blond hair was short and spiky; her square face was unadorned by makeup. Even though she was only a few inches over five feet, she could carry a forty-pound pack without breaking a sweat, and men who weren’t threatened found her attractive.
“He seemed open-minded the day we had lunch,” she said. “He claimed the decision would take some time. But he hasn’t returned my calls.”
Pallatine Mountain in central Virginia was Isaac’s pet project, a larger property than ACRE usually took on. To him, it represented a swing in the way things would be done in the future, preservation on a grander scale. Pallatine seemed key to ACRE’s march into the future.
“This is one of the most important transactions we can make,” he reminded them. “I don’t want to lose an entire mountainside to some developer who plans to build a ski resort or a hunting lodge. Any ideas?”
For the next twenty minutes they batted around possibilities, and Heather took notes.
At noon the meeting broke up, and his team members went back to their desks or off to lunch. Isaac and Heather were the last out.
“Are you eating in?” she asked.
“I didn’t bring anything.”
“Want to grab sandwiches?”
They continued discussing the meeting as they headed for a shop on the next block and took a place in the line that was already out the door.
“I didn’t want to say anything in there,” Heather said, “but I was getting all kinds of vibes from Gary Forsythe.”
“You should have mentioned that.”
She pursed her lips, as if deciding how to phrase her concerns. “Thing is, you’ve had a lot on your mind. And I have nothing more than a feeling. Mr. Forsythe seems torn. He’s not a rich man. Land rich, maybe, but that’s all. I think he wants to do what’s right, but he has grown children, and he’d like to leave them and any future grandchildren a solid legacy.”
“So far that’s not really news.”
“Well, he mentioned a couple of daughters and then, after some hesitation, a son. Turns out the son is an attorney.”
Isaac imagined a young man with leatherbound volumes open to the inheritance laws of the State of Virginia. “I’m beginning to get a picture here.”
Her expression softened. “Afraid so. But then, you’re an attorney yourself.”
“I never wanted to practice law, only understand it.”
“I have a feeling the son’s interested in money, and there’s always going to be a developer who can outclass us. The son probably doesn’t have any particular attachment to the mountain, the way his father does. Mr. Forsythe told me that when he was a boy, his father took him all over Pallatine hunting black bear. It’s funny, isn’t it? I couldn’t be more opposed to hunting, but half the time it’s hunters who want to keep America’s wild places intact.”
“I guess Gary didn’t take his lawyer son hunting enough.”
“He said his son was a city boy. Actually, he said, ‘My son never did understand the way his old man thinks.’ Maybe I’m making too much out of it. Or maybe…”
Isaac waited. He was not patient, but neither was he a prodder.
“Well, it bothers me,” Heather said as they moved into the sandwich shop and closer to the counter.
“What bothers you, exactly?”
“I know we need to protect Pallatine. I’m convinced. But
By the time they had traded jokes and stories, coordinated calendars and discussed the most important issues of the day, the morning was nearly over. Isaac got to the final item on the agenda.
“Pallatine Mountain.” He looked up. “Mr. Forsythe is still considering his options. No one’s heard any different?”
Heather, who had met with Gary Forsythe on the day Kendra was discharged from the rehabilitation hospital, turned up her hands. They were wide and capable, with blunt fingernails covered in clear polish. Heather always looked as if she had stepped off the Appalachian Trail into casual business clothes. Her blond hair was short and spiky; her square face was unadorned by makeup. Even though she was only a few inches over five feet, she could carry a forty-pound pack without breaking a sweat, and men who weren’t threatened found her attractive.
“He seemed open-minded the day we had lunch,” she said. “He claimed the decision would take some time. But he hasn’t returned my calls.”
Pallatine Mountain in central Virginia was Isaac’s pet project, a larger property than ACRE usually took on. To him, it represented a swing in the way things would be done in the future, preservation on a grander scale. Pallatine seemed key to ACRE’s march into the future.
“This is one of the most important transactions we can make,” he reminded them. “I don’t want to lose an entire mountainside to some developer who plans to build a ski resort or a hunting lodge. Any ideas?”
For the next twenty minutes they batted around possibilities, and Heather took notes.
At noon the meeting broke up, and his team members went back to their desks or off to lunch. Isaac and Heather were the last out.
“Are you eating in?” she asked.
“I didn’t bring anything.”
“Want to grab sandwiches?”
They continued discussing the meeting as they headed for a shop on the next block and took a place in the line that was already out the door.
“I didn’t want to say anything in there,” Heather said, “but I was getting all kinds of vibes from Gary Forsythe.”
“You should have mentioned that.”
She pursed her lips, as if deciding how to phrase her concerns. “Thing is, you’ve had a lot on your mind. And I have nothing more than a feeling. Mr. Forsythe seems torn. He’s not a rich man. Land rich, maybe, but that’s all. I think he wants to do what’s right, but he has grown children, and he’d like to leave them and any future grandchildren a solid legacy.”
“So far that’s not really news.”
“Well, he mentioned a couple of daughters and then, after some hesitation, a son. Turns out the son is an attorney.”
Isaac imagined a young man with leatherbound volumes open to the inheritance laws of the State of Virginia. “I’m beginning to get a picture here.”
Her expression softened. “Afraid so. But then, you’re an attorney yourself.”
“I never wanted to practice law, only understand it.”
“I have a feeling the son’s interested in money, and there’s always going to be a developer who can outclass us. The son probably doesn’t have any particular attachment to the mountain, the way his father does. Mr. Forsythe told me that when he was a boy, his father took him all over Pallatine hunting black bear. It’s funny, isn’t it? I couldn’t be more opposed to hunting, but half the time it’s hunters who want to keep America’s wild places intact.”
“I guess Gary didn’t take his lawyer son hunting enough.”
“He said his son was a city boy. Actually, he said, ‘My son never did understand the way his old man thinks.’ Maybe I’m making too much out of it. Or maybe…”
Isaac waited. He was not patient, but neither was he a prodder.
“Well, it bothers me,” Heather said as they moved into the sandwich shop and closer to the counter.
“What bothers you, exactly?”
“I know we need to protect Pallatine. I’m convinced. But
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