Chapter 15 - The Maritime Alliance
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Three days later, a private twin-engine turboprop landed at the small county airstrip five miles outside Briar Ridge.
Stepping off the aircraft was Evelyn Vance. At sixty-eight, she wore a simple navy wool coat, silver hair pulled back into a tight silver braid, and carried a thick oak cane. Unlike her sleek, deceitful brother Victor, Evelyn moved with the quiet, imposing authority of someone who had spent four decades commanding deep-sea shipping fleets and industrial shipyards.
Frank Delgado drove Ruth and Daniel to the airfield to meet her. As Evelyn stepped onto the tarmac, her sharp gray eyes locked onto Ruth.
"Ruth Mercer," Evelyn said, her voice deep and raspy from years on coastal docks. She extended a firm, calloused hand. "The last time I saw you was at Richard’s memorial service."
"Thank you for coming on such short notice, Evelyn," Ruth said, shaking her hand warmly.
Evelyn looked over at Daniel, evaluating him with a keen, piercing glance. "You look like your father, young man. I hope you have more sense than my brother Victor."
"I’m learning every day, Ms. Vance," Daniel replied respectfully.
"Good. Because Victor is currently languishing in a federal holding cell waiting for his fraud trial, where he belongs," Evelyn spat with dry contempt. She turned back to Ruth. "Margaret Sloan sent me the files on Victoria Briar’s foreclosure notice. That girl is as ruthless as her father was, but she lacks tactical vision."
They drove back to the Mercer estate, gathering inside the boathouse where Evelyn spread out a series of maritime supply contracts across the desk.
"Victoria Briar believes she holds all the cards because she owns the paper debt," Evelyn said, tapping her finger against a map of the North Atlantic shipping routes. "What she doesn't know is that Saint John Maritime holds a preferred military supply contract with the Canadian Department of National Defence for the next fifteen years. We need two million board feet of certified sustainable white oak for hull restorations on historic naval vessels."
Margaret gasped. "Sustainable white oak... which only grows in high density on the northern ridge of the Mercer estate."
"Precisely," Evelyn smiled, a cold, sharp glint in her eye. "If Mercer Timber Supply signs an exclusive fifteen-year timber harvest agreement with Saint John Maritime, I am authorized to issue an advance payment of twelve million dollars tomorrow morning. You pay off Victoria Briar's debt in cash, clear the note entirely, and retain one hundred percent ownership of the timber company."
Daniel leaned over the map. "But Evelyn, if we harvest two million board feet from the northern ridge, won't that endanger the watershed above the sanctuary?"
Evelyn looked at Daniel with approval. "A proper forester’s question. No, Daniel. We use selective helicopter logging—taking only mature, fallen, or diseased trees over a fifteen-year cycle. Not a single road will be paved, and the canopy will remain ninety percent intact."
Ruth looked at the contract, then at her son. "Can your mill handle a selective harvest of that scale, Daniel?"
May you like
Daniel straightened his shoulders, a look of quiet confidence filling his face. "I'll manage the mill operations personally. We’ll hire twenty local workers from the village who lost their jobs when Arthur Briar's development firm collapsed. We'll honor Dad's legacy the right way."
Ruth smiled, a profound weight lifting from her chest. "Margaret, prepare the closing documents. We have a debt to settle with Briar Capital."
