Luckily, that seemed to satisfy Mrs. Hawthorne. “I’ll walk you down the hall to the building and health department for that. If you need anything else, come back and see me.”
Ten minutes later, armed with the property file, Ginny settled into a small meeting room across the hall and began reading. There was nothing out of the ordinary that she could find. There were applications for a new septic back in the twenties, probably filed by Alan’s grandfather. Several property maps were included in the file, showing how the borders had changed when the family purchased neighboring land to increase the estate. An old black-and-white photo, of a donkey pulling a cart with two children in it, a girl and a boy, was tucked between two of the maps. Ginny pulled it out andstudied it. She wondered if the children were Candace and Alan. But there was nothing out of the ordinary in the file; after going through the entire thing and coming up empty-handed, she gave up her search.
She stopped at the town clerk’s office to say goodbye. “Thanks, Mrs. Hawthorne. Say hi to Alison for me!”
Mrs. Hawthorne looked up from her desk. “Did you find what you were looking for, honey?”
“No. But then I guess I don’t really know what I was expecting to find.”
“Maybe I can help.”
Ginny didn’t want to stir up any trouble. Her job was to get the transaction done for her client and get the deal done for her parents’ agency. But she also had an ethical code of conduct to follow. “Well, there was one thing. There’s been a lot of talk about the Inland Wetlands Commission. I was just curious if there was a history of issues I should be aware of. But it’s probably nothing,” she added quickly.
Mrs. Hawthorne looked thoughtful. “Well, I don’t recall any issues off the top of my head, but Saybrook has a lot of wetland properties, and protecting those areas has become a bit of a big deal with the state. Tell you what, I’ll dig around a little if you like.”
Ginny did like that idea, even if she was reluctant to pull strings. “That would be great. But promise not to spend too much time on it—I don’t want to trouble you.”
“For you? You bet! Now, if you were one of those bossy out-of-town developers, probably not.” Mrs. Hawthorne winked. “I’ll let you know if I find anything, sugar.”
As much as Ginny hated to admit it, her mother had been right. Again. Working in a close-knit community had its advantages. She was on her way out of the town hall when her phone dinged. It was Wendell. Since she’d gone to the farmhouse to help settle the girlsin, things between she and Wendell had seemed to settle. Ginny wasn’t sure what, if anything, she felt for Wendell beyond curiosity and the desire to help him. But she took comfort in the sense that he seemed to have forgiven her for not telling him about listing White Pines from the beginning. She found herself smiling as she read his text: “The county fair is tonight.”
“You hate the county fair,” she replied. It was true. She’d dragged him to it every summer, and every time he’d gone. Even though the Ferris wheel made him dizzy and the smell of cotton candy turned his stomach.
“These girls don’t hate the county fair.”
“What’s to hate?” she replied.
“Crowds. Noise. The Ferris wheel.” There was a pause. Then, “Want to come?”
Ginny laughed aloud and texted back: “Meet you at the Ferris wheel.”
The Saybrook County Fair was a midsummer highlight for everyone in town. It was a traditional New England event complete with livestock, music, games, and food. When she was growing up, Ginny’s favorite had been the animal barn, where you could pet the farm animals and see who won best in each division. Her parents joked that they could drop her at the animal barn, then go on every ride and play every game, and she’d still be commiserating with the bunnies or baby goats when they came back to find her. Little had changed.
“You girls will love the bunny tent!” she told Julia and Pippa.
Pippa’s eyes widened. “There’s a whole tent of bunnies?”
“Technically, they share it with the chickens and turkeys. And the pigs and goats, too. But there area lotof bunnies.”
“Some of my friends show their horses here,” Julia said, looking in the direction of the riding rings and barns. “I used to, too.”
“You can ride Radcliffe any time,” Wendell told her.
Julia just shrugged. “Thanks. But it’s different now that I’m not training and showing.”
Ginny exchanged a look with him. “Let’s get something to eat first. They’ve got the best fried chicken and corn on the cob. And a meal isn’t complete unless you also get a fresh-squeezed strawberry lemonade to wash it all down.”
Julia brightened. “I am kind of hungry.”
The four ate their way through the food tent, starting with chili dogs and corn and ending with watermelon ice cream. Pippa talked them into riding the carousel three times, until Ginny could tell Wendell felt dizzy. Julia wanted a tattoo at the henna artist’s tent, and even though Wendell made a face, Ginny elbowed him gently. “Go on. It’s not like they last.”
Grudgingly, he relented, and while they were gone, Ginny took Pippa to pet the farm animals. Twenty minutes later, Julia ran up to them with a smug look on her face.
“What’d you get for a tattoo?” Pippa asked. Julia angled her wrist so they could see: it was a small outline of a tree. The branches curved skyward like elegant arms; like something out of a fairy tale. “That’s beautiful,” Ginny said.
“Wait till you see what he got.” Julia pointed at Wendell, who was coming up behind her.
“No way!” Ginny said, laughing. “You got one, too?”
