Event planning would be the death of her.
Which was why Danielle had taken a break from planning the next few events for the St. Johns River Watchers to get a cup of coffee. She was pretty sure that if she hadn’t taken the break, her heart was going to wave the white flag and go on permanent strike against the stress she put herself through.
The sound of footsteps running toward the kitchen of the small beachfront cottage that served as the River Watchers office preceded the appearance of Danielle’s education-and-outreach coordinator, who was rushing toward the door.
“Danielle, have you heard?” Debra said between huffs. Her cheeks were red from the sprint. She pushed her thin jet-black hair behind her ears, making her gothic-inspired cross earrings swing against her pale neck. Her black pants, boots and Nightmare Before Christmas T-shirt were splattered with glitter, a leftover from a presentation at a kindergarten class earlier today.
“Heard what?”
Debra looked to the ceiling and shook her head. “You’re not angry, so I’m assuming you haven’t heard. I spoke with Mr. Springfield today—the state hasn’t automatically denied the permit allowing Clear Water to discharge into Springfield Creek.”
Danielle set the mug on the counter, coffee and gala temporarily forgotten, and crossed to the small wooden dinette table. “What? They should be shutting down, not expanding.”
She’d fought on behalf of the River Watchers all last year to get Clear Water’s permits revoked. The small wastewater provider couldn’t handle the sewage from the rapidly growing area coming to them and had exceeded their permit limits for pollution levels going into a tributary of the river. The state had agreed and ordered Clear Water to come up with a plan to reduce pollution or shut down.
“They think that expanding their operation and adding another discharge point will make them meet our demands.”
“The creek can’t handle that.”
Debra nodded. “I know that. Mr. Springfield certainly doesn’t want it going into the creek. He worked too hard with us to put the easements in place that will stop it from future development. Now all those efforts are threatened if this happens.”
Danielle’s brain buzzed with a variety of ideas. They needed to do something. “We need to get in front of the county commissioners at their next meeting. Get them to deny any permits for the expansion. If this goes through it doesn’t just hurt Mr. Springfield, it had the potential to hurt everyone living in the Crescent Acres community.”
Crescent Acres was a low-income neighborhood in an area just south of Jacksonville, Florida. Springfield Creek flowed right through the neighborhood before it entered Mr. Springfield’s property. Many of the people who lived there fished and played in that creek. If a sewer provider that already couldn’t meet their current permit limits started dumping poorly treated wastewater into the creek the effects could be devastating.
“I’m already talking to the commissioner’s clerk to see about getting on the agenda,” Debra said.
“Any idea what stance the county wants to take?”
Though the county leaders sometimes voted to preserve the areas going into the river, they also rarely took a huge stance on environmental issues.
Debra shook her head. “No idea.”
Danielle slapped her fist into her opposite palm. “We’ve got to get them to fight this.”
Debra chuckled. “I think they’re already expecting your call. The clerk remembers how much you hounded the state to go after Clear Water last year.”
“I only scheduled a small press conference.”
Debra smirked. “You put out a rally cry to our supporters to show up in front of the Clear Water gates with old toilets and signs that said ‘Poop in the toilet, not our river.’”
Danielle shrugged and smothered a grin. She was pretty proud of that idea. “It got everyone’s attention. We’ll need something equally big to get people paying attention again. That was just a year ago, but no one is watching what Clear Water is doing now. I can’t believe they have the nerve to try and dump into Springfield Creek.”
“They’ll be ready for battle after you gave them so much grief before.”
Danielle had been with the River Watchers since graduating from the University of Miami five years ago. When her sampling efforts proved Clear Water was dumping catastrophic amounts of pollution into the river, she’d spearheaded a movement against the provider. Her actions quickly turned the small organization into the most well-known conservation watchdog in the community. She’d gone from organizing their monitoring program to an executive director in a record five years.
“Does it look like I can’t go to battle with them?” Danielle turned, picked up her coffee mug off the counter and took a sip.
“Of course you don’t look like you’re ready for battle. That’s why you win. You surprise people with ferocious tenacity beneath your girl-next-door exterior.”
“I do not.”
“Yeah. You do.” Debra eyed Danielle from head to toe.
Danielle straightened her glasses and smoothed the front of the white cardigan she wore over a navy sundress. “Maybe I use that as a slight tactical advantage.”
“You’re never afraid to do battle with anyone, which is why I love working with you.”
“Don’t try and butter me up for a raise,” Danielle teased. “I won’t be able to cover the part-time salaries of the interns next fiscal year if we can’t get any more donors.”
“I’m not worried. Since you became executive director a year ago the donations have improved. The idea for the River Gala and silent auction this year was smart. I’m sure that’ll help raise some funds.”
Debra nodded and looked at Danielle like she was the great black hope. Danielle’s earlier freak-out about the success of the events she planned came back full force. They would need several successful events, not just the gala in a few weeks, to keep their doors open.
“If