Free Chasing the Wind by Pamela Binnings Ewen Page A

of the developer, so they won't have a clue. And the first to sell will get prices they never dreamed of. So in that first phase, sellers will keep it quiet—that's part of the deal."
    "Is this legitimate?"
    "Sure. But there'll be huge pressure on the current owners to accept."
    "What kind of pressure?"
    She turned her eyes back to the road. "The pressure's in the money and the tactics. The agents will move fast, right after the closing of the financing. Purchases will be all cash, as is, no questions asked. Existing liens will be paid off." She shrugged. "Deals too good to pass up. And then, after those first properties are in, word will spread that the neighborhood's gone, though no one will understand why. And that's when prices will drop."
    "What if they decide to fight then?"
    Amalise shrugged. "What's left at that point will be mostly residential—individuals with average incomes, people who can't afford to go to court. And if they do try to fight it, they'll only be offered more." She pushed back a stray lock of hair. "At the end, the holdouts will realize there's nothing left to win in a lawsuit anyway. Who wants to live next door to a parking lot?"
    Jude whistled. "Sounds like there's big money involved."
    "Yes, there is. But the thing that makes it all work is that in the long run it'll be good for the city. The project will bring in tourist dollars and jobs." She turned to him with a confused look. "It's not supposed to be like this, Jude. I love my job, but I hate what we're doing here." She gave a helpless shrug and settled back. "I almost wish Rebecca had been picked for this instead of me."
    Rebecca would no doubt agree.
    Amalise sank back against the car door, facing him. She pulled up one leg and folded it under her, looking at Jude. "Where am I going wrong?"
    Traffic slowed and he leaned back, one elbow propped on the window. "Well, I'll assume it's all legal. But is it moral?"
    "I don't know. Are moral and right the same thing? Maybe. But either way, this is wrong." Amalise heaved a long sigh. "I grew up watching Dad dispensing justice. He made decisions in his courtroom based on principles that everyone understood. Right and wrong, good and bad, the rules made sense. If you broke a law, you went to jail. Bust the speed limit, you got a ticket. Hurt someone, you paid the price." She rapped her knuckles against the window beside her in a distracted way. "Everything was black and white in Dad's courtroom. Not shades of gray, like this."
    He stopped for the light at State Street and automatically looked to his left, toward his house. That's where they should be going right now. He wanted to keep Amalise close by and safe.
    Seconds passed. The light turned green, and he stepped on the gas. He looked her way and grimaced. "It doesn't sound like you have much choice, chère."
    "Not really. I could leave the firm, of course. But that's not an option."
    He knew that wouldn't happen. She'd worked for years to get where she was.
    "Besides, Rebecca or someone else would take my place, and the deal would still go forward."
    "Then you have to be practical."
    She nodded. "We have a goal to reach."
    He almost smiled. This was like playing Jeopardy! He let one, two, three beats pass and said, "Neighborhoods change all the time. People move and adjust."
    She gazed through the windshield with her head turned away so he couldn't read her expression. "I know," she said, almost muttering. "And . . . I made the mistake of driving through the place the other day. Personalizing it. I put faces to the names on the list."
    Jude nodded. "Probably unwise."
    "I'll work my way through this," she said after a moment. "It's my job."
    "Put your worry in God's hands and then just do the best you can."
    She nodded. But as he drove on, the question rose in his mind: What really came first with Amalise?

    Amalise was looking forward to seeing the house, but right now she was just happy to be sitting beside Jude. She watched as he drove, his