Summer on the Cape by J.M. Bronston

Water’ rides. ‘Dive for Sunken Treasure’ rides. Who knows?” He paused and reflected. “There are plenty of sunken ships around there anyway. Someone might actually find something.” He smiled at the possibilities, as though that last idea had just suggested something to him. “That would be great publicity.”
    “So that’s what this is all about. You’ve got clients who are trying to develop a big Mayflower theme park on Cape Cod. That’s great. It’s a terrific idea. But how do I fit into all this?” The project was taking shape in Allie’s mind, full of interesting possibilities, but she didn’t see a place in it for her.
    “I’ll get to that. But first, let me expand the idea a little bit. There are all sorts of spinoffs. Restaurants. A library to house Mayflower archives. A Pilgrims’ museum.” Adam expressed his enthusiasm with a quiet intensity. “It’s a perfect setting. Plenty of open space and virtually no conflicting industry in the area. The place is a resort community already. The Cape’s motels and cottages and restaurants and gift shops would be delighted with the increased business. With a little investment—all right, a lot of investment—it could be made into a year-round attraction. Existing highways would need to be widened, of course. The local contractors would love it. There’d be increased local employment, and that means increased local population and that means an increased tax base, which all leads to expanded schools, medical facilities, utilities, all the services a community needs.”
    Adam paused for a moment before continuing.
    “Of course, there are obstacles. There always are. Certain key parcels of land still need to be acquired. And there are plenty of legal hurdles to overcome. Development permits have to be secured. Environmental impact studies. Filings with the Securities and Exchange Commission. And the financing isn’t all in place yet.”
    “Is there any local opposition? Or is the community in favor of the plan?”
    “That’s no problem.” Adam’s response was brusque, as though brushing away a minor irritation. “There’s always some local opposition. That happens with all these projects. There are always some people in the area who just don’t feel comfortable with progress. Can’t be helped. It just takes some time and some convincing to bring them around.”
    By now Allie was leaning forward, her elbows propped up on the table. Adam’s enthusiasm for the project was contagious, and she had been concentrating intently on his words.
    “It sounds fascinating, Adam. I can see it. The attendants in colonial costume. Little shops selling replicas of the ship, little John Alden and Priscilla dolls, booklets telling the story of their courtship. An infinite variety of souvenirs. Early colonial cooking utensils. Colonial foods. And of course, a really huge anniversary observance, every year at Thanksgiving. Ties right in with the holiday. Kids off from school, parents off from work. What could be better? Turkey day at Mayflower Park!” Allie’s imagination was fired by the possibilities, her lively mind already engaged in coming up with new ideas. “What name have they picked?”
    “Just a working title, so far. ‘Pilgrims’ Landing.’”
    “I really like it, Adam.” She sat back now, her arms extended out in front of her on the table. She took a deep breath. “And now, tell me how I am involved in all this.”
    “I thought you’d never ask.” Adam paused, indicating with a gesture that they should be quiet for a moment.
    The waiter had arrived with their soufflés. There was a brief flurry of presentation and the arrangement of their flatware and the removal of their wineglasses and the pouring of their coffee, while Allie and Adam chatted innocently about the weather. Finally, with a flourish, the waiter was gone and Allie and Adam returned to their real conversation.
    “You were about to tell me how I fit into this scheme.” Allie