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CALEB

Starting over wasn’t supposed to be this hard. He was an experienced architect with a degree from Cornell. Nationally certified. Working on innovative sustainable designs. He was a man with a plan.

Then Mom called.

“Nothing to worry about. Just a small bit of cancer.”

Small bit of cancer? Was there such a thing? In a singular moment, he was sixteen again, bursting through the back door after football practice into Mom’s fragrant kitchen, into her loving embrace. To his surprise, he wanted to go home. Go to ground. The sandy ground of Sea Blue Beach.

His partner understood, bought Caleb’s half of the business, along with his Belltown loft.

Now he lived in a renovated craftsman one street from his parents with an office under the staircase.

Six months ago, he hung out his shingle for Ransom Architecture, ran an ad in the Gazette , then twiddled his thumbs.

Not really, but that’s what it felt like. Caleb’s experience was in restoration and refurbishment, but he wanted the challenge of a new build.

He landed some consulting work with clients back in Seattle.

For three months he worked on a renovation plan for one of the old downtown buildings, a former haberdashery turned vintage shop turned into a yet-to-be business.

Two months later he hit a hard stop when the bank foreclosed on the building.

He’d tried to get meetings with some of the prominent developers, but nothing materialized.

He bid on Sea Blue Beach projects—all in the West End—but lost to the favorite son, Tommy Lake at JIL Architects.

Tommy’s sister was married to town councilman Bobby Brockton, but let’s pretend that had nothing to do with JIL winning every bid.

The East End of Sea Blue Beach had declined since he left for college. Only home for holidays and a week in the summer, he never noticed.

Then last week, the owner of the historic Alderman’s Pharmacy, one of the first businesses in Sea Blue Beach besides the sawmill and roller-skating rink, contracted him to inspect the place and lay out a plan for restoration.

Jenny Finch, a digital creator with eight million followers on social media, planned to reopen Alderman’s Pharmacy with the same name, functioning as a lunch counter and soda fountain, just like a hundred years ago.

Minus the pharmacy. Everyone filled prescriptions in the West End.

This morning, Mayor Simon Caster knocked on his door with a dozen canisters, all with drawings of the rotting Org.

Homestead neighborhood homes. Org., short for original , was where Sea Blue Beach founders, a royal prince from the North Sea island of Lauchtenland and a freed slave, built the first homes.

Prince Blue had the money. Malachi Nickle had the skill.

“Can you inspect these?” Simon said. “See what it will take to repair and restore those homes? I’d like to make them affordable housing for young families, or even for seniors on a fixed income.”

The bank had foreclosed on ten of the twelve houses years ago. There’d been talk of bulldozing the area for new development. When the East End folks protested, talk changed to restoration. But there’d been no effort until now.

“We have discretionary funds to dole out,” Simon said, “if I can find buyers. If the West End town council members don’t put up a fuss. They think two-thirds of all money should go to their side.”

“They do bring in most of the tax money,” Caleb said.

Over the past forty years, hotels, shopping centers, large beach homes and condos, along with every kind of tourist attraction, popped up on the western side of Sea Blue Beach, attracting spring breakers, families, conferences, businesses, and pro sports like golf and tennis.

“Yep, and they never let us forget it.” Simon held up one of the canisters.

“Let me know what you think it will take to bring the homes up to code. Then we can look at funds, negotiate with the bank on sale prices. I can’t imagine a hundred-and-forty-year-old dilapidated home is worth more than thirty or forty grand. ”

“You’re looking at the condition of the homes, Simon. The bank is looking at location: on the edge of the West End, two blocks from the beach. Prime property.”

Simon sighed. “Yeah, I know, but a man can dream.”

Caleb pulled a plan from one of the canisters and unrolled it on his drafting table. It was beautifully drawn by a man hovering over a drafting table with different-grade pencils, erasers, T and set squares, a protractor and compass.

“I’ll inspect a couple of them.” The address was 2 Port Fressa Avenue.

“I’ll pay you, of course,” Simon said.

“Okay, but, Simon, what’s going on? These houses have been foreclosed on for years.”

Caleb worked for Simon at the Starlight during high school, and besides his dad, there wasn’t a man he respected more.

“Rumblings,” Simon said. “During a Chamber of Commerce meeting, I overheard Mac Diamond was talking to the bank about buying the whole thing.”

Mac was a golf course developer with big ideas and the newest member of the Sea Blue Beach town council.

“Dad says Mac ran for town council to have sway with property rights and taxes.” Caleb returned the plan to the canister.

“Based on how Mac talks and votes, your dad is right.” Simon glanced out the window toward Sea Blue Way and the visible corner of the Starlight.

“When I was a teenager, Mayor Harry Smith got bamboozled by a slick development company named Murdock. They convinced him that if Sea Blue Beach didn’t modernize and build, build, build, we’d limp into the twenty-first century, losing tourism and business to places like Niceville or Destin.

And it all started with invoking eminent domain on the Starlight.

Smash it with a wrecking ball and put up a parking lot. ”

“Then a movie star fell in love with a supermodel and saved the day.” Everyone in Sea Blue Beach knew the story of Matt Knight, hometown boy turned Hollywood star, saving the iconic skating rink alongside supermodel Harlow Hayes.

“It was Booker Nickle, a descendant of Malachi’s, who saved the day.

Remembered the Starlight didn’t sit on Sea Blue Beach land but ground that belonged to Lauchtenland, the old royal kingdom.

” Simon smiled. “It was glorious. Even Harry was relieved. No one wanted to destroy the Starlight. But no one wanted to be stuck in the past either.”

“The West End is booming, Simon. No one can say we’re stuck in the past. It’s like Oz over there. The East End may be like a Kansas farm with Sea Blue Way as the yellow brick road, but we have purpose too.”

“We’re seen as dead weight. Can’t offer anything new.

” Simon looked slightly defeated. “I don’t want to be the mayor who lets progress bulldoze everything our founders worked to build.

We just need to get folks to see the beauty in the East End.

Polish it up, get families in these old cottages.

Fix up Doyle’s Auto Shop and some of the other places.

” He pointed to the canisters. “Starting with the Org. Homestead should inspire everyone.”

“I’ll do what I can, Simon. But I’ve only been back for six months. I’m still figuring out how things work around here, how to commission new jobs.”

“I’d put my finger on the scale for some of the city contracts, but I’ve been calling out the West End council members for throwing everything at JIL.

However, I’ll support you all I can.” Simon headed for the door.

“Send me a contract for looking over those drawings and developing a restoration plan. Don’t be cheap.

” He grinned. “The West End doesn’t have to know every dollar the mayor’s office spends. I have some prerogative.”

When Simon had gone, Caleb unrolled another of the Org. Homestead drawings. One of the canisters came with a set of grainy, black-and-white photographs.

Most of the houses were the classic Florida Cracker, built entirely of lumber with a slanted roof and wide porch. Several had a subtle European appearance, probably the influence of the prince from Lauchtenland.

Spreading each one on his drawing table, he felt a bit emotional.

One photo had an African-American family on the front porch.

Another had a white family with their dog and goat.

These were his people. The ones who fought to make a life by the sands of Sea Blue Beach so that others, like Caleb’s great-grandparents, could also plant their flag.

He came back because of Mom, but maybe there was a deeper purpose.

The front door opened again, and Simon poked his head inside.

“There is one more thing. Sea Blue Beach has never had a preservation society, but I’ve been doing some research, and I think forming some kind of Main Street initiative would go over well with our western brothers and sisters.

Sounds more modern and business-forward.

This could help to fix up the East End. What do you think about taking the lead on that? ”

“I don’t know, I’m trying to—”

“Caleb, you’re a hometown boy—smart, educated, experienced. Frankly, you’re the future, which is way more palatable to the West End. And according to my wife—and I don’t take it personal—you’re very good-looking and charming.”

Caleb laughed. “Okay, well, tell Nadine thanks, I guess.”

“I might as well tell you the rest of what she said. She wonders if there’s a girl in your life.” Simon leaned against the doorframe, more relaxed than fifteen minutes ago. “I should warn you, if you say no, she’s going to try to set you up.”

“Then, yes, I have a girl in my life. Mom’s a girl, right?”

“Done. If she asks who, I’ll tell her you said it was none of my business.”

Caleb liked Nadine, an artist who used to come to the rink thirty minutes before the last session ended and tie on a pair of skates, saying she had to work out the kinks.