Flying in Shadows (The Black Creek Series, Book 2) (18 page)

Lifting his arm, he tilted the remote so it could reach his office television to raise
the volume. His secretary rang him twice through the intercom, then gave up and texted
him.
If you keep ignoring me, I'll have to tell your mother.

Since Delores only recently learned to text, he laughed and walked out to see what
she wanted.

Completely gray, she had lines scattering from eyes that could light up any room.
She'd worked part time for him for going on three years. They'd grown as a team, and
together built Reed Builders from the ground up.

He hardly made it out of his office before she began, "You've got an eleven o'clock
with the excavator at the Fox Hills business strip. Jonathon wants his summer job
back this year. Here are your phone messages, and you need me here more than part
time."

"Push the eleven back a half hour. I'll call John myself, and why would I hire you
full time when you do full-time work in a half day?" Although he could probably afford
it now, she had bridge, her Silver Sneakers class and a standing hair appointment-thing
every Thursday afternoon. He took the phone messages from her hand and winked.

"You keep up that flirting and I'll move myself to the front of that line of girls
you have following you."

He shot her a toothy smile before heading back to his office, pulling a set of blue
prints from his stack. He had just enough time to see about modifying the space over
the garage on a lot in Country Club II. Unconsciously, he picked up the remote and
pointed it behind him toward the television as he walked around his desk.

* * *

Her assistant held one of the eaglets on its back like a baby while Rose measured
its beak, talons and tail feathers. She spoke into the microphone as she worked, moving
around as if it weren't there. "The bald eagle has made a sizeable recovery thanks
mostly to the Endangered Species Act. Although it's no longer on the Endangered Species
list, it is still a highly protected animal. We're the ones who are partially responsible
for the senseless death of these helpless creatures through environmental threats
and loss of habitat. We're the ones who need to help protect them from those dangers
now."

Pulling out a set of pliers, Rose took a silver band and gingerly wrapped it around
the bird's enormous foot. "The eaglets each receive two bands. This first one..."
She took the tool and firmly secured the ends together. "...is a rivet band issued
by the US Fish and Wildlife Service." After checking that it fit comfortably, she
picked up the second.

The eaglet flexed and grabbed with its talons. "He may be young, but his talons can
effortlessly slice through skin." She waited patiently for it to calm. "The other
band I have here is an auxiliary band. Notice the bright color and large numbers.
The bird will be easily identified with binoculars using this band. Each habitat area
has its own color. This bold blue means New York. You can help by supporting The Center
for Conservation Biology, the National Foundation to Protect America's Eagles and,
of course, the Birds of Prey Research and Action Center." She added the latter as
a plug for the center she currently worked day in and day out.

Grace walked around passing out pamphlets regarding these centers and others as Rose
worked the television reporter for a few more bites of advertising.

"There is a threat, right now, to one of the migratory wintering grounds of the highly
threatened Whooping crane in western Florida. Developers have offered a local reservist
an offer he apparently couldn't refuse. We'll be departing within the week to hold
a protest." Gently, she placed one of the eaglets in an ordinary looking green plastic
tub and then placed the tub on a scale while rattling off numbers to Grace.

Before it was time to haul the birds back up to their nest, Rose walked around and
permitted the visitors a semi-closer look while allowing a question and answer session.
Realizing how crucial donated funds were to the action center, she took her time answering
questions while emphasizing conservation efforts.

* * *

The Northeast was fortunate to have a biologist who could not only band the eaglets
but could do the climbing herself. Rose liked to do things on her own. But she was
sensible enough to know she couldn't do everything alone. Hired an assistant, hadn't
she? She just preferred doing things herself when at all possible. The interns were
a different story. As an undergrad at NYU, she had been granted several prosperous
internships in dozens of capacities. In return, she provided the same opportunities
to promising interns whenever possible.

Methodically, her table, supplies and equipment were packed in the back of her truck.
She climbed in, but before turning the ignition, rotated to Grace who sat in the backseat.
"What the hell are you doing back there?"

Grace politely pointed a thumb out the passenger window, then rolled her eyes as she
looked away. The door opened to a professor of ornithology who pulled himself up to
the passenger seat by the hand grab attached to the ceiling.

"Hello, love." He leaned over and kissed Rose on the mouth. "Sorry to have missed
your show."

She laid her hand on his cheek. "It's no big, but you know it's not a
show
." She turned away and looked out the front windshield, starting up the truck.

"No, of course it's not. I meant your presentation." He buckled his belt and waved
off his ride. "I came to help you, darling."

Pulling the truck into gear, she looked at him. "I've got blogs to check, Oliver,
a site to update, an intern to chew out, and avian chicken pox to scrape from an eaglet's
beak. I'm not sure what you could help with, but you're welcome to come and hang out."
She looked in the rearview mirror, knowing Grace would be looking back. Slyly, she
squinted at her before accelerating.

The trip was one of their shorter ones. The Birds of Prey Research and Action Center
was only an hour north of the botanical gardens. She and Grace generally had several
hours behind the wheel to and from banding sites.

As she drove, the Whooping crane protest burned a hole in the back of her mind. She'd
already used a half dozen of her media connections to line up a nice showing for the
damned developer. Getting there was another story. How would she, in this lifetime,
afford to fly both her and Grace to Florida and back?

The action center nestled comfortably in a valley between hills and along Seneca Lake.
Large Shiloh pines filled the landscape. Behind the facility, a large field provided
the perfect spot for presentations, fundraisers and activities for classroom field
trips.

They pulled up on the gravel drive and parked in the farthest visitor's spot just
as a group of small children walked out of the main building with their parents. The
structure was efficient. Off the lobby was her office; the office of the owner and
director, Biologist Dr. Paul Gray; and a break room for the interns and receptionist.
To the back of the building was an enormous area with small habitats scattered around
the perimeter. The center housed mostly animals that were in the process of rehabilitation.
Many would be reintroduced back into the wild, yet some had been permanently injured
and the center served as their home.

"Love... I, err, need to check my voice mail and I'd like to use your big screen to
check my email. I'll come out and help in a few minutes?" Oliver gave her fingers
a squeeze as he kissed her on the cheek before heading to her office.

Threateningly, Rose pointed a finger at Grace before she had a chance to chide Rose
about Oliver shirking a hand at unpacking the gear. "I'm not looking for a pack mule.
I can take care of myself. Let's get this stuff into the shed and go inside to see
if we can find Mr. Bend-the-Rules." Using a dolly, they hauled the load into one of
a dozen metal sheds, locked it up and headed across the side of the field to the back
door.

When they entered the lobby, the suspect intern stood behind the reception counter
at the computer. Tall, sandy brown hair curled over his ears and lay on his neck.
She walked and stood opposite him.

Overtly, Grace pretended to blend in with the scenery.

Without greeting or warning, Rose spoke up, "Don't think just because you're a grad
student it means you can make administrative decisions around here. I hired you, Wes,
granted at shit for pay, because I think you have potential. If you use that potential
to do the undergrads' work again, I'm going to kick your potential ass out of here.
I'm the boss and when I tell the undergrads to do something, I want them to do it."
Frustrated because he wouldn't look her in the eye, she dipped her head down to where
his gaze pointed.

Wes turned to focus on the other side of her.

Silence. More silence.

Moving her head dramatically over to where his gaze wandered, she asked, "Well?"

"Well, Dr. Piper, they asked me if I would just close up for th... okay... yes...
I see what you're saying and..."

"How can you see what I'm saying when you won't look at me?"

Wes' chest expanded slowly, then he exhaled deeply. But instead of looking to her,
he focused over her shoulder. She turned to see Grace was clearly holding back a smile.

"Oh, hell. Listen to me. If you're going to make it around here, you're going to need
to know the difference between teamwork and being a doormat. You're a quick study
with good ideas. Let the others learn for themselves. That's. Why. They're. Here,"
she said, poking at his chest with each word. She looked over at the clock on the
wall. "And clock the hell out. It's past time for you to be here."

Wes did as he was told and walked toward the door in his baggy jeans and work polo.
Grace stood in front of it with a wide smile and whispered, "She likes you, ya know."
Then, opened the door for him.

Doing a double take at Grace and blushing, he looked at the floor and walked out to
his car.

"Isn't he just the cutest thing?" Grace asked as they turned for Rose's office.

"If you say so, in that so-cute-I-can't-speak sort of way."

As she and Grace turned together, they both stopped short when they noticed Dr. Gray
leaning against his doorjamb, arms crossed with a brow lifted high.

A thin-brimmed leather hat circled his head and well-worn work boots on his feet.
"I was never that hard on you."

She smiled adoringly at him. "I never needed it."

"Point taken. How is Wart coming along?"

"Shall I give you a lecture on the problems associated with naming a wild animal?"

"You know the likelihood of her reintroduction into the wild is slim. She hasn't been
with her parents for weeks now. How is the pox looking?"

She sighed at the thought of the bald eagle spending its life in captivity. "Much
better. It doesn't look like there'll be permanent damage, and she eats just fine
if I keep the wart... I mean the pox shaved." She shook her head. "Her wings are strong.
She needs a bigger space to fly, as all the rehabs do."

Dr. Gray set his hand on her shoulder. "Do what you can, Rose. Then, let the rest
go," he said and headed back into his office.

As she wandered to her office, she stopped at the sight of Oliver. Damn it, she'd
forgotten he was there. Standing in the doorway, she realized he didn't notice her.
She was going to spend the rest of her life with him. He was definitely maintenance
free, she reminded herself. That was a plus. Cute in his professor sort of way. They
certainly had a lot in common. She cleared her throat.

Looking up at her, then at his watch, Oliver blushed. "So sorry, dear. Did you finish
already? I must have gotten caught up. What can I do to help?"

She walked to him and kissed him lightly. "You can get out of my chair."

She answered questions on her blog, put out a new post regarding a class for the public
featuring Wart, or N3, as was the eagle's public name. Then, listened to her voice
mail while checking her calendar for the following week. In between the daily chores
of running the action center, she had an eaglet banding near Chesapeake Bay on Monday;
field trips for third- through
sixth-graders Tuesday; a new intern coming to apply for the summer position Wednesday;
followed by a trip to see her mother and dropping off Charcoal—all between caring
for the present occupants and any that would be brought to the center between now
and then. She decided on Thursday and through the weekend, if necessary, for the Florida
protest. She would rearrange those days for it. Damned developers. Dollar signs in
their eyes and to hell with the wildlife.

She sent out a few tweets, posted on the action center social network page and pulled
a few more strings with the media. She was hoping for a helicopter.

She was smart. She knew the deal was likely set and the developers probably cared
about the protesters little more than they did the Whooping cranes. Her objective
was aimed at the land reservists. She needed the next in line, anywhere along the
east side of the country, to think twice before selling any locally owned land reserves
to the highest bidder.

* * *

Andy meandered up the drive of his uncle's home, admiring the professional work Brie
had done with the landscaping. He could kick himself for keeping his business and
his personal life separate and not hiring her for his new construction sites. She
was good. Really good. Late spring flowers bloomed in front of dying early spring
color. Clusters of different shades of green were organized, yet weren't overbearing
or overdone.