most erect posture I’d ever seen, like someone had shoved a metal beam along his spine. And I knew from city staff meetings that special cough of his meant all us peons better grovel in the mud. “I think, Ms. Hernandez, that the fine citizens of Mirabeau can rely on their elected officials to protect their environment” “Your wife owns some of the land,” Tiny called out, then looked embarrassed. His first venture at public speaking. If I’d liked him I’d have been proud of him. Nina favored Tiny with a gracious smile and turned back toward the mayor like he was cheese on a cracker and she was starving. “That’s right, Mr. Mayor. Mrs.
Loudermilk does own some of the involved land. Do you think that you can maintain your objectivity when Greg Callahan starts throwing money at y’all?” Mayor Loudermilk huffed. His thin, politically weaselly face pinched tight. He didn’t like folks challenging him and I sometimes wondered if he didn’t have a pronounced violent streak under that suave exterior. I’d seen him break pencils with a smile in staff meetings when he thought someone was challenging his authority, and I heard he ran his construction company like a military unit. Junebug and I joked about it after the meetings, but I really didn’t care much for the man. It was a shame; his daddy had been a real fine fellow. “I don’t really need to worry about the money he might throw at me, Ms.
Hernandez, but I thank you for your concern for my moral fiber.” I saw Dee Loudermilk put a restraining hand on her husband as she rose to her feet. She was prettier than Parker Loudermilk deserved, a slight, wispy blonde beauty with eyes of fierce hazel intelligence. Dee used to be like Candace, doing mostly volunteer work. She’d discovered art, though, a while back and had become a potter. I had one of her own pots in my backyard, an object of strength and sturdiness if not of beauty. Dee’s metaphysical stretches of the boundaries of ceramics escaped any meaningful interpretation from me. I liked her a sight better than I did her husband. “It’s my land, not Parker’s. I had that land before we married, so it’s not his concern,” Dee said. Parker didn’t look like he agreed with this economic assessment but he wisely kept his mouth shut. Dee’s voice rang out clear as a bell; I guess it was used to out-yelling her husband. “Regardless, I’m sure that Loudermilk Construction would be interested in bidding on the development work,” Eula Mae put in. She’s self-employed and got more money than God, so she doesn’t have to be cordial to our elected officials. Parker bristled. Dee smiled at Eula Mae; she was a better politician than her husband. “I won’t sell until we know more about what these Intraglobal people plan, and that’s a promise.” “I’ll be glad to answer that for you, Mrs. Loudermilk,” a man’s voice, nasal in its Northernness, called out from the back of the room. The voice belonged to a man in a tailored summer gray Italian suit, certainly the finest duds Mirabeau had seen in some time. The floral pattern on his tie would have gotten him thrown out of all the beer joints I knew of. His hair was starting to thin, with strands of blond still clinging to his freckled pate. His face was intelligent, with a rough sensuality to it that suggested he was a man who took a coarse and easy pleasure in life. Lorna stood to one side of him, looking cool but perhaps a touch uncomfortable. I saw her eyes seek me out and she stared hard at me for all of ten seconds. I glanced away and saw that if I wasn’t willing to return Lorna’s stare, plenty of other fellows were. I hoped Uncle Bid, seated right in front of her, wouldn’t drool.
The man on the other side of Lorna was someone I knew: Freddy Jacksill, a local real-estate agent. He was sticking to Lorna and the balding man like sap on bark. I saw another form move behind the three from the stairs and find a seat. A stunning young brunette I recognized as Jenny Loudermilk, the mayor and Dee’s daughter. She looked like she’d gotten her hand caught in the cookie jar- hiding cash. I didn’t miss the glances that Parker and Dee exchanged-or Miss Twyla and Eula Mae exchanged-at this latest development. “This is a private meeting, Callahan,” Nina barked. The look she gave the man was one of pure loathing. “I’d appreciate it if you’d leave.” “This is a public building,” Greg Callahan (I’d already guessed who it was) answered smoothly. “Um, he’s right, Nina,” I spoke up. “Meetings held in the library, unless previously approved, are open to the public.”
There, no one could ever say I hadn’t memorized the library’s bylaws.
“These good people aren’t interested in your lies,” Nina retorted.
Tiny bolted to his feet, presumably to play bouncer. Nina jerked a hand at him and he stayed put. “She’s got him trained like a dog,”
Candace whispered to me. “Lies, Ms. Hernandez? I’m not here to lie,”
Greg Callahan said smoothly. “My associate, Ms. Wiercinski, along with our new friend, Mr. Jacksill, thought that we ought to set the record straight.” He pointed an elegant, pale finger at Nina Hernandez. “This woman is nothing but a radical and an environmental extremist!” A murmur ran through the sparse crowd. “Wrong,” Nina snapped back. “I have no political agenda. My only desire is to protect the river-and to expose Intraglobal for the wasteful, pernicious business that it is. I wouldn’t quarrel with sensitive, responsible development. But you, Mr. Callahan, have no regard for people or the land they live on.” “Ridiculous!” Greg Callahan sneered back. I envied him his glare; it was a right effective one. “You’d throw yourself over a blade of grass to keep someone from building a patio, Ms. Hernandez. And folks, let me tell you: it wouldn’t make much sense for me to invest in riverfront property then trash the river, would it, now? Who’d buy a single condo? No one, that’s who.” He cast his penetrating blue eyes across the gathering. “Investment, ladies and gentlemen. That’s what this resort would be. I’m going to spend so much on the riverfront that I’d ruin my own business if I polluted it.” He jerked his head toward Lorna and Freddy Jacksill. “We’ll be holding a meeting of our own, to really tell the truth about Intraglobal. Tomorrow night at the Sit-a-Spell Cafe. Y’all are all invited.” I thought he should’ve left that last part off; Texans do not take kindly to having their accents or regionalisms adopted by others. Miss Twyla stood. “I won’t be there. I’ve already heard enough from Nina to know I’ll never sell my land to you.” Eula Mae was not about to be upstaged. “And I’m going to put my considerable resources behind Miss Twyla’s campaign to save the river.” Callahan smiled thinly. There was the vaguest hint of malice lurking there. “Perhaps you’ll change your mind, Ms. Oudelle, Ms.
Quiff.” He’d done his homework, you had to give him that. He nodded confidently at the crowd. “I urge everyone not to pay too much heed to Ms. Hernandez. She’s a bit upset right now because this is her third attempt to interfere with Intraglobal’s business, and every time she’s failed. She’s a loser. Until tomorrow night, ladies and gentlemen.” He turned on his imported heel and strode out, with the confidence of a rooster leaving a sated henhouse. Freddy Jacksill stayed right in Callahan’s personal space, probably busily calculating the amount of money he could make as the local agent for helping Intraglobal. Lorna hung back for a moment, then left, favoring me with another glance. I patted Candace’s hand and whispered, “I want to talk to him.” I followed them out, hearing Uncle Bid cackle, “See! Jordy’s chasing that fellow to sell him his land. Y’all ain’t going to win.” I decided I’d worry later about setting Uncle Bid straight-as straight as someone as crooked as he could get. I hurried out the back entrance from the stairs. (The upstairs meeting room is accessible by a side door, so folks can have meetings after hours without going through the rest of the library.) Lorna, Greg Callahan, and Freddy Jacksill were standing by Freddy’s Taurus, its RIVERTOWN REAL ESTATE sign big on the driver’s-side door. Greg Callahan watched me as I ran up to them.
Crickets chirped around us, a deafening chorus of them in the live oaks that towered near the library. The sun was setting and his eyes looked hard in the fading light. I said, “Lorna, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” Lorna shuffled slightly. I don’t think she was happy with the upshot of our last conversation. “Sure. Jordan, this is Greg Callahan. Greg, this is Jordan Poteet, my old friend I told you about.” “Jordan, fabulous to meet you.” Greg shook my hand with what I considered an abundance of fake warmth. “Fantastic town you’ve got here. Really homey and cozy.” “Thanks. We’d like to keep it that way.” Greg fixed me with a smile. “Now, Jordan, I hope a smart gentleman like yourself isn’t going to jump on this environmental hysteria bandwagon. I assure you all the information that Lorna presented you is absolutely valid. We’re not going to shoot ourselves in the feet by ruining the river.” “Jordan,” Freddy Jacksill interrupted, “why don’t you give me a call tomorrow and I’ll set up a meeting at my office, where we can discuss Intraglobal’s offer on your land.” I made myself smile at Freddy. I couldn’t say I actually disliked him; but he was one of those people who so nakedly curries favor that they annoy the living hell out of you. He was in his mid-forties, portly, and not dressed in the height of fashion. I always saw him on weekends, squiring potential buyers, usually young yuppie couples from Austin who fantasized about country living. “Well, Freddy, that might just have to wait a spell. I’m not sure I want to sell my land. I’d prefer to give it some thought before I make any decisions.” Greg smiled heartily and squeezed my good shoulder. He didn’t ask what had happened to my arm. “Of course you would, Jordan, and I know that a reasonable guy like you is going to make the right decision. You’re a clear-thinker.” I resented someone who didn’t know me making such gross generalizations; I could be as muddy-thinking as they came, if I put my mind to it. My distaste for Greg bolted in my chest; why was Lorna working for him? I smiled politely. “Well, I’ll be glad to attend your meeting and hear you out.” I glanced at Lorna.
“You’re very lucky to have Lorna working for you. She’s a remarkable woman.” That elicited a smile from both Lorna and Greg. “Isn’t she, though?” he said. “I’d be lost without Lorna. She’s my details lady.”
He grinned at her with a nearly proprietary air. “Great. Well, then, I’ll see y’all both tomorrow.” I shook hands
