“This seems in order.”
Flora stood up.
“I have,” she began, her voice clear in the room, “I have here a petition signed by . . . many people in the village. Stressing their opposition.”
“Very good,” said Maggie, her voice chilly. “However, they don’t have to look at the turbines.”
“No, but my guests do,” said Colton. Everyone was watching him. “Come on, ma’am. You must see that this is a beautiful place. It’s special, don’t you think?”
“I don’t think misty-eyed views of our island are particularly useful, no. We’re a real place that needs to be run well. And bringing in green jobs and cheaper electricity is a part of that.”
“There’s no evidence that it will be cheaper, though,” said Flora. “And you’re going to disturb wildlife . . .”
“Yes, only terns,” said Maggie. “I see no current shortage.”
Colton stood up again.
“Ma’am,” he said. “I love this place. I’ve invested in this place.”
“Eventually,” said Fraser Mathieson.
“And I want to call it home. Am proud to call it home. I want to continue investing. The people of Mure have been good to me and I want to return that. I want to keep things lovely. That’s all. So I humbly suggest that we move the windmills farther out.”
“That’ll cost more to do,” muttered Eck, not looking at Flora.
“But for the views . . .,” added the reverend.
“They’re not everybody’s views, though, are they?” said Mr. Mathieson.
“It’s everybody’s island,” said Colton, “and I want to make it feel that way. As much as I can. I’ve traveled all over the world and I think this is the most beautiful place on God’s earth. I am so, so proud of it, and I want everyone else to feel proud of it too. I want everyone who comes here to feel the way I do, from the second they step onto the island.”
“Hear, hear,” said Kai.
Flora stared at Colton, amazed. This really was how he felt. And all round the room, people were nodding. People who she’d always thought, somehow, wanted to get away, dreaming of freedom. That wasn’t true, she realized. This place: it was freedom. Home and freedom, all at once.
Colton was still standing, overcome with emotion.
“I love this place. I’m home. And that is all I have to say.”
There was a huge round of applause as he sat down. Fintan squeezed his thigh; Flora squeezed his shoulder.
“Well done,” she said, slightly choked up.
Chapter Forty-nine
Um, hi. Is Dr. Philippoussis there?”
“Joel, darling. It’s Marsha. He’s got a client. Are you okay?”
“Um, yes. Sorry, I can call back . . .”
Marsha had always had a very soft spot for the serious, troubled boy, would have pushed for adoption if her own children hadn’t been so small and needy at the time.
“Joel,” she said. “I’m not a medical professional.”
“No,” said Joel, loosening the collar of his shirt. Why was he so hot?
“But we don’t hear from you in years. And now it’s every day, nearly.”
“I can stop,” said Joel, panicked.
“No. Joel. You’re not hearing me. That’s the opposite of what we want. In fact, when you come back to New York, we very much hope you’ll spend some time with us.”
Joel swallowed.
“I’d like that,” he said. This was progress, he thought. Six months ago, he’d no more have admitted to needing someone than he would have walked in space.
“Good,” said Marsha. “But that’s not it, is it?”
“You’re a much bossier therapist than the doc,” said Joel.
“I’m not a therapist at all,” said Marsha. “But I am a mother.”
Joel paused.
“Did you let her down gently, this girl?” asked Marsha softly.
“I don’t think she minded,” said Joel.
“Do you think? Or maybe she minded very much.”
“No,” said Joel, thinking of the aggressive blondes who called and harassed Margo. “No, she didn’t make a fuss.”
“Maybe,” said Marsha. “Maybe that’s because she’s different.”
There was a long pause.
“I’m not going to say what’s the worst that can happen, Joel,” said Marsha. “I know what’s the worst that can happen. Women have vanished on you your entire life. Here’s all I’ve got to say. If you’re waiting for the doc to give you permission . . . that’s not going to happen. He can’t. He’s a therapist. He can’t tell you what to do.”
She smiled.
“I can, though.”
Chapter Fifty
All right,” said Maggie, looking stern. “It’s time to vote. All those in favor of continuing with the wind farm plans as they are, raise their hands.”
Mr. Mathieson’s hand shot up. Flora wondered vaguely if he had investments in offshore wind farms. She wouldn’t put it past him. Elspeth Grange. The reverend.
“Reverend!” she couldn’t help saying. At least he had the grace to look slightly embarrassed.
There was a long pause. One more hand, and they’d be defeated. Flora looked at her father, who had gone entirely pink. He had the chance to vote against the man who’d strode in, bought his farm, stolen his son away from him. He couldn’t look at Colton. It must, Flora realized, be agony for him.
But he kept his hand down. Flora’s heart wanted to burst with love for him.
“And those who reject?”
Eck’s hand went up, slowly. So did Mrs. Kennedy’s, and Flora clenched her fists with glee. Gregor’s too, in solidarity with Eck, of course. She and Colton looked at each other. It was all down to Maggie. Had they done enough? They crowded together.
“Christ, this is better than mergers and acquisitions,” said Kai under his breath.
Maggie didn’t speak for a long time. Then she leaned forward.
“Mr. Rogers,” she said. “I’ve been impressed by your . . . belated but nonetheless clear commitment to our community, and I hope very much that it continues . . .”
She looked pointedly at Flora then, who squirmed.
“Your obvious love for this island and what we have here is admirable. As are the efforts you’ve put in to back this up.”
Colton stood up, his face full of gratitude.
“Thank you so much, Mrs.—”
She stilled him with a hand.
“That’s why I’m sure you’ll agree that bringing further investment—practical, near-at-hand investment, that will benefit every single resident, temporary and permanent—can only be a public good. However, in light of your impassioned defense, I am inclined not to place the wind farm in front of the Rock.”
She stopped. Colton and the MacKenzies, on the brink of a group hug, looked at her, beaming.
“To preserve the exquisite views for guests there, I propose moving it three miles to the west, which does not impact on costing and is an equally appropriate space for the work to proceed.”
There was a very long pause. Colton straightened up.
“You mean directly in front of the Manse? My home?”
“It’s your choice, Mr. Rogers. The Rock or the Manse. It’s the second most appropriate location. Benbecula has huge cost implications for our tax base.”
Colton took a very deep breath and looked at everyone around him. He clutched his head.
“Seriously?”
Flora leaned over.
“It’s up to you. It really is. You can say no.”