Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
I’m surprised, and ask, “That wasn’t the usual?”
Wren snorts. “No, the protests are typically a bunch of folks sitting in folding chairs and waving signs. There’s more action at the Episcopal Church dog show. Definitely no music festivals and mini-parades downtown that are only missing clowns on stilts and floats with people throwing candy.”
Huh. I hadn’t really thought about how big the protest had gotten. It’d felt like everyone had a common cause and was letting their thoughts be known, especially when Dad came out, but I guess it makes sense that the protests would amp up the closer we get to the hearing.
I explain about driving out to the subdivision site, feeling compelled to go back to the protesters, and how things grew organically from there. I gloss over a few things, but tell Wren and Winston about Dad coming out, marching to Puss N Boots, and everyone planning. I wrap up with going home to Leo saying Mom was on the phone all night and Dad came home drunk and passed out.
“I can fill in the gaps on some of that,” Winston says, sounding a lot calmer than he was at the airport. “Dad went to Jed’s, and they were arguing about what to do. They’re worried about the hearing, and that’s the pivot point that sets the whole next phase off. It’ll determine whether this project is a success from the beginning.”
“How do you know that?” I ask, and Winston gives me a stern look.
“Because they called me, I’d like to point out again, on my honeymoon. The first call came while I was about to enjoy a private hot tub with my new wife wearing the swimsuit she bought specifically for our trip.”
His anger makes perfect sense now. I shake my head, and yeah, I feel a little ashamed. Not by what I did, but the timing? Yeah, that sucks. “Fuck! I’m sorry, man. Sorry, Avery.”
Winston grinds his teeth for a moment. My brother must have a colossal case of blue balls at this point, but eventually he lets it go with a nod.
“I’ll let you have that punch for free then,” I add, and Winston snorts.
“As if you’d be able to give me a receipt for it.”
That’s my brother, and I grin. “We both know I would have tried. And succeeded. But nah, let’s just let it go. Honeymoons should be sacred.”
The image of Winston on his honeymoon, romancing his new bride, only to be interrupted by Dad and Jed’s bitching, roils my stomach. It’s not my fault exactly, but apparently me being at the protest was a match to the gasoline that started yesterday’s dumpster fire.
“What are they going to do?” Wren asks, eager to move on. “Dad and Jed?”
“They talked about making the hearing private, but they think the townspeople will storm the meeting,” Winston says, turning back to business. “Or making the votes private, but there are bylaws about that. Basically, anything that’s a secret vote by the council has no force of law, is what Dad says. So I think their main plan is to run Wyatt out of town.”
“Me?” I ask, stunned. “Why?”
Winston frowns sadly. “Because, like you warned me, I’m already in their pocket, and Wren isn’t going to change the outcome. But you might. You were the one standing up in the back of a pickup truck thrusting his fist in the air.”
Weight crashes onto my shoulders—responsibility, expectations, involvement in something so big and important that I don’t want to mess with it. A part of me wants to run back to Newport, settle back into my easy life, where I have to worry about only myself and my customers.
But this is important.
Too many people depend on this, on maintaining Cold Springs, on this community, as Etta called it.
I won’t abandon them now. “What are we going to do?”
“First thing you’re gonna do,” Avery says as she brings over a small plate laden with heavenly-smelling sweetness, “is eat a cookie. No good decisions were ever made on an empty stomach.”
I don’t think many revolutions have been planned over cookies, either, but they are delicious, and help as we talk and talk about everything we know about Jed, the subdivision, and the land.
“What about your thing at Puss N Boots?” Winston asks. “What happened?”
“Nothing particularly helpful,” I admit, frustrated. “They suggested blackmailing Jed over family secrets or sex tapes. Both voted down because there are none. At least not since Etta deleted her tape.”
I pause to make a disgusted face, which is echoed by Winston, Wren, and Avery. From the living room, Grandpa Joe shouts, “Hell, even I wouldn’t watch that, and I’m pretty hard up for porn these days. Etta, she’s a pretty thing. But Jed, he’d likely make my pecker shrivel up and fall off.”
I laugh, but try to push it down when Avery shouts, “Grandpa Joe! Nobody wants to hear about your wiener!”