Radclyffe - Homestead

A door opened behind her and she turned, grateful for the sound of footsteps dispelling her self-analysis. Leslie looked exactly the same, a more sophisticated version of the girl Tess remembered. About Tess’s height, Les was blond and willowy, with ocean-blue eyes, a classic heart-shaped face, and arching cheekbones. Dressed in charcoal pinstriped pants with low black heels and a crisp open-collared blue shirt, she managed to look totally professional and incredibly attractive at the same time.

Tess stood and held out her hand, refusing to think about how she appeared in her yellow cotton shirt, brown pants, and loafers. “Leslie, I—”

“Tess!” Leslie folded her into a hug and squeezed. “It’s great to see you.”

Leslie smelled like almonds and vanilla, just like always, and her slightly husky voice was as warm and friendly as Tess remembered. A lump formed in Tess’s throat, and for a second she had trouble getting the words out. “You smell the same.”

“And you look terrific.”

“I’m so sorry I waited so long,” Tess whispered.

Leslie held on to her shoulders and leaned back, her eyes glowing. “That doesn’t matter. You’re here now and I’m so glad. Are you hungry?”

“I’m starved,” Tess said, laughing.

Leslie looped her arm through Tess’s and tugged her toward the door. “Come on, then. Me too. Estelle, I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“All’s quiet here.” Estelle waved a hand. “Have a good time.”

Leslie took her to a small, unassuming bistro around the corner where they were seated right away at a round table for two near the front window.

“It’s not fancy,” Leslie said, “but they bake their own bread and their sandwiches are great. Salads are good too, if you’d prefer.”

“I’ll follow your lead,” Tess said.

While they waited for the food Leslie ordered, Leslie said, “Before we get too far into things, let me explain a little bit about what I do. You might want to talk to someone else.”

“When I said I wanted to consult you,” Tess said, “I don’t actually know if I need legal representation. Mostly I need an informed opinion, and I wanted one from someone who I could trust to give me straight answers. And confidential ones.”

“Good enough,” Leslie said. “My practice mostly deals with corporate development issues, particularly when environmental regulations and questions of compliance come up.”

Tess nodded. “So how much do you know about fracking?”

“A lot more than you might think.” Leslie waited while the waitress placed enormous sandwiches in front of them. “Dev is a researcher for the state Environmental Conservation Department, and her specialty, more or less, is water. Well, water and everything that’s in it, especially fish.” Leslie smiled as if thinking of some secret joke. “Believe me, that’s made for some interesting conversations around our house.”

Tess laughed. “I can imagine.”

“Dev has testified at a number of state hearings concerning the impact of deep hydraulic drilling and has compiled reports on the impact of fracking on the water table, aquatic life, and a lot of other things.” Leslie stopped, shook her head. “In fact, you probably should be talking to her and not me.”

“I might want to,” Tess agreed. “But they’re about to start drilling close to my farm, and I’m worried. I’m not the only one. Quite a few farmers in the area are opposed to the drilling, and I’m not sure anyone really has enough information to make an informed decision.”

“What did the representatives from the gas company say? They can generally project how deep they have to go, the proximity to the aquifer in your area, the composition of the propellant they’ll be infusing—and how all that could potentially affect surrounding terrain.”

“Clay just got into town yesterday,” Tess said, “and we haven’t really heard anything yet.”

Leslie tilted her head. “Clay. Not the Clay from the lake?”

“Yes,” Tess said.

“Wow. Talk about coincidences.”

Tess felt her face warm and looked down at her plate. “A surprise to me too.”

“So what do you want to do?”

That was the question Tess had been turning over in her mind since she’d learned about NorthAm. She took a breath. “Is there a way to at least delay them until those of us who might be affected can get a clear picture of what’s going to happen?”

“Probably. An emergency injunction could be obtained fairly quickly. It wouldn’t stop things indefinitely, but it would buy some time and give everyone the opportunity to discuss the issues. Perhaps there are alternatives to where they plan to drill or some information they can provide to help allay concerns.”

Tess nodded. “How would we go about that?”

“You need an attorney to represent you—or a number of landowners, if possible.” Leslie explained while they finished their meal. “Now, I’m simplifying some here, but a case can be made that the drilling presents possible harm to humans through water or other environmental hazards, and on that basis we could request a prohibitive injunction.”

“Doesn’t that require some kind of evidence?”

“Not necessarily,” Leslie said. “That’s the power of this kind of argument.”

“It all sounds so complicated,” Tess said.

“It’s possible that none of it will be necessary, and a few conversations will help put everyone’s mind at ease.” Leslie leaned back with a sigh. “That’s generally the best outcome—legal action can be long and costly and is often not necessary.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“So,” Leslie said, sipping the espresso she’d ordered, “tell me about Clay. You haven’t seen her since that summer at the lake?”

“No,” Tess said softly. “We…lost touch.”

“But back then, you were…?” Leslie’s brows rose questioningly.

“Yes, for a while,” Tess said. “You know, summer fling.”

“Sometimes those flings are the beginning of something a lot more serious,” Leslie murmured.

“You and Dev,” Tess said. “I knew you went to school together, but I didn’t realize you were involved.”

Leslie smiled. “For the longest time I didn’t know what was happening between us. I only knew I wanted to be with her more than anyone else. And then when I did finally understand, everything got so complicated, and…” She sighed. “Well, we both made some mistakes. But we figured it out.”

“You were lucky,” Tess said quietly. Second chances made good stories, but there was no way to turn back time. Once love was lost, it stayed lost.

A knock sounded on the metal door of the trailer, and a second later Ella stepped inside.

“Hey,” she said. “You’ve been locked up in here almost all day. You want something to eat?”

Clay pushed back from the workbench bolted to the long wall of the thirty-foot trailer where she’d spread out the survey maps of the surrounding counties. A big satellite dish sat on the roof, providing Internet access for the laptop she’d set up to review documents related to the job. If the wind didn’t blow too much, she had a pretty decent signal.

“What time is it?” Clay asked. Someone in marketing had labeled the current job the Adirondack Pilot Project. The specs called for forty drill sites within a hundred square miles of where she sat. From the air, the rolling hills would resemble a porcupine of tower-quills.

“Almost four.”

Clay rubbed her face and sipped some of the cold coffee from the thermos Ella had left for her early in the day. The thermos was about as empty as her stomach, and her stomach was sending out distress signals. “Did you eat?”

“Some of the guys got pizza a while ago—I saved you some.”

“Thanks. Sorry, the day kind of got away from me.”

Ella leaned a hip against the counter. “It’s a pretty place. I found a spot in the shade.” She indicated the iPad mini she carried everywhere with her, outlined in her jacket pocket. “I’m used to waiting. Problems?”

“I’m starting to think so.” Clay grimaced. “I haven’t had a chance to review all Ali’s filings yet, but we’ve got more than a few uncrossed t’s. Acquisitions have been scattershot. Whole tracts of land right in the middle of our projected drill fields are under active use, and we don’t have clear right-of-way. Getting permits could be a problem.”

“Have those owners been approached?”

Ella was more than just Clay’s guard and assistant. She was smart and quick and had been around long enough to have learned a lot about the business. Oftentimes when it was just the two of them traveling from one project to the next, Clay talked things over with her. Ella’s insights, unmotivated by personal gain and uninfluenced by corporate politics, often gave Clay valuable perspective. This time, she was going to need it.

“That’s the big question.” Clay tapped the survey map. “If we don’t secure rights from a couple of places, we could be in trouble. From the looks of the geological analysis, we’re going to be drilling under them if not through them.”

“Well, the underground drilling rights will be easy to get, don’t you think? If we’re not putting derricks on the property, the acceptance will be higher.”

“Ordinarily, I’d say yes, but the farming industry up here is a little different than what we’re used to in Texas or even the Midwest. These aren’t big corporate farms with thousands of heads of beef cattle being bred for market. In this area especially, we’re looking at dairy farms. Not only that”—she tapped the map again, her pen bouncing on the words Rolling Hills Farm—“organic ones to boot.”

“Well, that throws a spanner in the works,” Ella muttered. “Operations like that tend to be paranoid about anything that even smells of chemicals.”