They were right to agree-Tidewaters would be a genuine asset to the city. It would develop a weed-choked gap along the waterfront, provide new jobs and help reinvigorate the quaint, older business section of town-and all on someone else’s dime. Tess had been astounded that anyone would refuse Geneva Chandler’s offer to build such a wonderful, beautiful place in the heart of her community. But the opposition to development had been fierce. There were many here who wished things to remain as they were, who viewed progress with suspicion and the land at water’s edge as untouchable.

Tess set the remains of the maple bar aside, wiped her sticky fingers and tried to concentrate on her work. But she couldn’t shake the case of nerves or the unsettling swings from elation to dread that kept her stomach churning. Even if her grandmother had won this battle, even if construction were about to begin, Tess wondered if the war over the waterfront would quietly move underground.

And she didn’t like the idea of building on such a shaky foundation.

PRECISELY one hour later, Tess drove her roadster up the long, winding approach to Chandler House. Early shrub roses edged the drive, and puffs of cotton-candy blooms dotted the rhododendron bushes spreading beneath the lacy canopy of a redwood grove. With each bend in the road, she caught a glimpse of the creamy yellow shingle-style mansion rising at the edge of Whaler’s Bluff.

Her great-grandfather, an ambitious man who rose from lumberjack to mill owner, had purchased the site and planned for a great house overlooking the growing town. His son, a clever man who launched several local businesses and invested in others, created that house to showcase the family’s wealth. Both men had used their money-and that of the heiresses they married-to benefit Carnelian Cove and their own positions in the community. Both had filled various city political offices; both had served as mayor.