Tess shifted her shoulders, uncomfortable with the possibility of comparisons to Geneva Chandler. She loved the old woman, but her grandmother could be powerfully intimidating.

A streak of sunlight pierced the low-lying fog along the bay, and the interior of Tess’s office brightened. The fog would clear by midmorning, and another gorgeous spring day would lift her spirits. Good weather for building something.

And time to get started on the day’s work.

She turned to face her desk, ready to draw the bowling alley plans on her computer’s CAD system, and saw her answering machine’s red eye blinking from beneath a messy stack of bills. The display listed the number for Chandler House.

“Tess, dear,” scolded Geneva ’s recorded voice. “You’re late.”

“I know.” Tess snatched at the bills before they toppled over the edge of the desk.

“If you’re going to advertise office hours, you must make more of an effort to keep them,” the machine continued. “It’s part of a polished professional appearance.”

“Get to the point,” Tess muttered.

“But that’s not why I called.” Grandmère paused for dramatic effect. “I want you to cancel your morning appointments-”

“As if I had any,” Tess said with a sigh.

“-and meet me here, at Chandler House. I’ll expect you by eleven. No later than eleven,” Grandmère emphasized. “You can practice your punctuality on one of your relatives, who manages to love you in spite of your shortcomings.”

Tidewaters. She had news-that had to be the reason for this summons. Tess pressed a hand to her jittery stomach and sank into her desk chair.

A city council meeting was scheduled for tonight, and the waterfront zoning issue was on the agenda. Again. Grandmère had been pulling strings behind the scenes, postponing a vote until she was sure the results would go her way. She still carried plenty of political clout in this town, and several of the council members already agreed with her plans.