Fifty-Five
Surprise!
Once I get my heaving sobs under control—and mostly because I really, really need some tissue—I thrust my shoulders back, spin on my stiletto heel, and march back into town hall, ignoring the curious glances of the constables and security contractors waiting for orders outside the front entrance.
The lobby is filled with residents talking to paired RCMP and CI security officers with clipboards and iPads in hand. One at a time, residents are cleared while others, people I recognize from Cordelia Beach last week, are asked to remain. They will all be leaving the island, just as Rupert promised, which means I will have a lot of work in the coming weeks to replace the people we’re evicting.
How will I avoid more Dea Vitae nonsense with future applicants to Thalia Islan
