Beach Town by Mary Kay Andrews Read Free Book Online Page B

developer would be interested in a short-term lease.”
    â€œFor the male lead, we’ll need six bedrooms, and a pool. And a private basketball court.”
    â€œYou’re kidding.”
    â€œUnfortunately, I’m not. It’s apparently in his contract.”
    â€œWho is this guy? George Clooney?”
    â€œI’m not at liberty to say. But security is going to be an issue for him. His fans are totally rabid. I’m assuming this Bluewater Bay place is gated—with guards?”
    Thibadeaux laughed. “Yeah, there’s a gate, of sorts. And the developer built a guardhouse but, as far as I know, the gates have never been operational, and there sure as hell has never been anything like a security guard over there. You gotta understand something, Miss Hennessy. This isn’t Miami. People here don’t even lock their doors, let alone live behind a fence.”
    â€œHow nice for them,” Greer snapped. She was starting to lose her patience. The guy was doing everything he could to talk her out of using his town for the movie shoot.
    â€œLook, Mr. Thibadeaux—”
    â€œIt’s Eb.”
    â€œOkay. Eb. I’ve driven all over Cypress Key. I’ve looked at your business district, and the houses here, and I hope you’ll forgive me for saying so, but it seems to me that this is sort of an economically disadvantaged community. You’ve got a charming Main Street, but more than half the old buildings are vacant. And the rest of the town isn’t much better. There’s a beautiful white sand beach on the Gulf, but the Silver Sands is the only motel where people can stay there, and even you would have to admit it’s not exactly the Ritz. But once the movie is out and people see how charming your town is, tourism is going to pick up. Businesses will follow. I’ve seen it time and again. This movie will be a boon to your community.”
    â€œA boon.” Thibadeaux set aside the catalog.
    â€œExactly.”
    His gray eyes stared her down. “And who guarantees that?”
    â€œGuarantees? We’ll have legally executed documents for all the locations we use for the shoot, if that’s what you mean. Our production company will lease the motel and whatever private residences we need for the cast and crew. For a production this size, we’ll be hiring locals—short term, it’s true, but we’ll need drivers, caterers, electricians, laborers to help build sets, security guards. And extras, of course.”
    â€œOf course,” he said mockingly.
    That did it for Greer. “What the hell is with you?” she demanded. “Most towns, if they were offered a big-budget production like this, they’d jump at the chance. But you act like I’m trying to put up a toxic waste dump or something. You’ve done everything but tell me to take my movie and get the hell out of Dodge.”
    He leaned across the desk. “Miss Hennessy?”
    â€œGreer.”
    â€œRight. Greer, do you know anything about the history of Cypress Key? Have any idea why we are, as you say, an economically disadvantaged community?”
    â€œNot really.”
    The chair squeaked loudly as he sat back. Eb Thibadeaux seemed to fill the chair—and the room, come to think of it. He was a shade north of six feet tall, not matinee idol handsome but undeniably intriguing, with the scholarly look of a professor—a professor who spent a lot of time outside.
    â€œYou mentioned a toxic waste dump, and I know you were joking, but that’s essentially what we had here for the past sixty years. Only they didn’t call it that. They called it the Cypress Key Paper Plant.”
    â€œA paper mill? Here? I haven’t seen anything that looks like that,” Greer said.
    â€œThat’s because the Peninsula Paper Company, which owned and operated the Cypress Key plant, stopped operating here more than a decade ago. But for fifty years