Page 43 of The Beachgoers
“So zoning states that my inn’s—and I quote—proposed usemust be consistent with the Stony Point Plan of Conservation and Development. Inthisinstance, proposed use refers to the reserved rowboat rides my guests will take through the marsh. And though I appreciate and respect zoning’s concern for the conservation of our beautiful salt marsh here, I also must delay the inn’s opening because of it. The town authorities require assurance that my guests—staying at a commercial enterprise—will not alter, change, damage or threaten the delicate ecosystem and wildlife of the marsh.”
“Elsa,” Jason interrupts. “Didn’t you square this away before proceeding with the inn red tape? With the renovations and planning?”
“Idid, Jason. But apparently the zoning office has taken issue with thatoneactivity here: guests’ rowboat rides through the marsh. And let me tell you,everyreservation booked for this fall requested one of those rides. Every single one. That rowboat is one of the inn’s biggest selling points. However, commercial boat rides in the marsh werenotapproved by zoning and are in direct conflict with Stony Point’s ecological plans of conservation. So they shut down the inn.” Again Elsa’s eyes drop to the letter. “Pending issuance of a special permit,” she explains.
“Elsa,” Cliff says now, walking across the veranda. “Couldn’t you just cancel the rowboat reservations and still open up?”
Elsa shakes her head. “Everyguest booked a rowboat ride. Rides that include picnic lunches, or dinners, to enjoy while paddling with the swans and egrets in the marsh. Those rides seem to be the most anticipated part of guests’ stays. And I unfortunately could not have guests arrive, then tell them the boat rides were nixed. Why, it might’ve felt like a certain bait and switch.”
“Iknowsome people at zoning, believe me,” Jason says then. “Maybe I could—”
“Oh, Mr. Barlow. If you know zoning, then you know there’snobudging them. The requirements to justapplyfor that special permit include, and I kid you not,” she says, giving her letter a shake before dragging a finger down the text, “a site plan—”
“But Elsa,” Jason cuts in. “Isubmittedyour site plan to zoning for the inn’s entire redevelopment.”
“Yes, you did. But that site plan did not reference commercial rowboat rides, or indicate if any changes would be made to structures or landscape to accommodate that business venture.”
“Okay, Aunt Elsa,” Eva calls out. “Then how did the zoning people even findoutabout your rowboat rides?”
“I imagine it had something to do with my Ocean Star Inn advertisement inCruising Connecticutmagazine,” Elsa explains.
“Oh yeah,” Nick says. “I saw that ad. A sweet, full-page glossy spread.”
Elsa turns to him. “Well, Nicholas. Apparently you weren’t the only one who saw that ad. Someone on the zoning board did, too,” she continues. “And zeroed in on our advertised picnic rowboat-ride package. A few days’ later, I was slapped with the special permit notice.”
“But you folksalwayspaddle through the marsh,” Cliff says, throwing up his hands. “So where’s the problem?”
“The problem, Clifton, is that these rowboat rides will be part of acommercialventure.” Elsa gives a sad smile. “And that changes everything.”
“So what do you need?” Trent asks, stepping forward. “Maybe Jason and I can assist?”
Elsa pauses. The slightest salty breeze lifts off the distant sea. The night was perfect—custom-made for her celebration. Now that breeze touching her face, moving a wisp of hair, it mocks her. Now she feels defeat. “What do I need?” she repeats, shaking her head. “For starters, ten copies of a detailed statement describing current and proposed property uses, as well as an explanation of how criteria specific to the special permit will be met. Not to mention,documentedapprovals from any other agencies—regional, state or federal—that haveanyjurisdiction over the commercial use of the land. Meaning the marsh.”
Jason’s voice drops then. “Sounds like you need a lawyer, Elsa. To expedite all this for you.”
“Possibly, Jason.” Elsa tucks the letter back into that stamped-and-officially-government-sealed certified envelope that landed on her front porch just days ago. “But more than that, I need time. I couldnotrush this through. I could not hurry things along. Too much would be at risk, including liability. When my inn does indeed open, every i will be dotted and every t crossed—with the utmost of care.Andwith every ecological preservation standard fully met—ensuring to zoning that our beautiful marsh will not be tainted, but rather appreciated.”
“What about your business,now? What will you do?” Matt yells out.
“For starters, call things off. I’ve spent the past week on the phone—cancelling everything. All my autumn reservations. The Chamber of Commerce ribbon-cutting. The dignitary welcome speeches.Everything.”
A collective disappointment ripples through the crowd with groans and sad voices.
Elsa holds up a hand again. “Wait,wait,” she shouts. “Celia and I only planned to open the innseasonally—and to shut down over the winter months. So things aren’tasbad as they seem. Though the inn will remain closed for now,” Elsa continues, “it’ll likely open sometime in the spring.”
“You must be devastated,” Mitch Fenwick adds, standing there with his arms crossed.
“I am. Or… Iwas,” Elsa clarifies. “I still intend to run thefinestinn on the Connecticut shore. Just not yet. So this isnotthe end. It’s only a setback. And we’re certainly no strangers to setbacks here at Stony Point.”
“Elsa.” Celia reaches for the mic. “Can I say a few words?”
“Of course, Celia.” For which Elsa is actually relieved. She needs to move into the background. To blend in. To see how her friends and family are taking her unexpected announcement.
* * *
As Celia holds the microphone, a slim corsage on a gold cuff bracelet shows—white rosebuds nestled in greens. She nods to everyone gathered on the veranda. “I know most of you here, but for those I haven’t met, I’m Celia Gray. And I was as surprised as all of you when I learned the news just this morning. I was truly looking forward to opening the grand doors of this seaside inn. Because it wasmynew beginning, too, working as Elsa DeLuca’s assistant innkeeper. So much has gone into this one day over the past year… with the inn’s renovations, and the CT-TV filming forCastaway Cottage, and the planning, planning, planning.”
Elsa watches her guests standing shoulder to shoulder on the veranda as Celia mentions the work that even Elsa’s son, Sal, put into the inn shortly before he died—with his extensive business plan. A few people react, saying how shocked he’d be to learn this today. Someone else assures Celia that Sal’s looking down on her and Elsa, so they needn’t worry.
