The smell accosted Olivia as soon as she stepped through the poppy red double doors of the Edward Thatch Middle School. Ammonia, sweat, and greasy food mingled with an animalistic odor of surging hormones. Like all large public buildings, the polished laminate floors still looked dingy beneath rows of dust- covered fluorescent ceiling lights. Without windows, the school’s central hallway could belong in any hospital, mental institution, or low-security correctional facility across the country. Only the self-congratulatory trophy cases and forcibly cheerful bulletin boards identified the corridor as being a part of a building dedicated to learning.
Olivia followed the sound of murmuring voices, relieved to have left Haviland at home. Not only would his olfactory senses be overwhelmed but the impassioned arguments she expected to take place during the meeting would also cause her poodle far too much anxiety.
Previous notices listed the township meetings as being held in Classroom 105, but as Olivia passed the room, she noticed the door was shut. A purple sign had been hung across the narrow window slit, announcing that the meeting had been moved to the auditorium.
To Olivia, the word “auditorium” conjured an image of cushioned seats, velvet curtains, crystal chandeliers, and flashes of gilt. Having left Oyster Bay before middle school, she had never actually seen the Edward Thatch auditorium.
“It’ll be just like Lincoln Center, I’m sure.” Olivia chuckled to herself. “Instead of amateur productions of
Turning down another locker-lined hallway, the murmur of conversation swelled. The meeting hadn’t started yet and townsfolk were standing in clusters outside the cavernous room, heads bent as they rapidly exchanged opinions. Words ricocheted off the sand-colored cement walls in a sharp staccato. Already Olivia could see tension in the furrowed brows and balled fists of those waiting just outside the propped auditorium doors.
Suddenly, the clang of a bell blasted through the wall-mounted speakers, cutting through the clamor as the adults jumped to attention, their memories triggered by the sound. Though some of them hadn’t trod a public school hallway for nearly forty years, the local business owners, lawyers, Realtors, shrimpers, stay-at-home mothers, waitresses, builders, and barbers responded to the signal as if they were still clad in letter jackets and poodle skirts.
The townsfolk chose seats quickly, arranging themselves by cliques just like the school’s current students. Despite the fact that she had always kept herself apart from such groups, Olivia couldn’t help herself from searching for a familiar, comfortable face. Therefore, she was delighted to feel a tug on her arm and to look down at the darkly tanned, heavily made-up face of Dixie Weaver.
“Have they started yet?” Dixie licked her finger and scrubbed at a smudge on the top of her left roller skate. In addition to the milk white skates, Dixie wore boys’ tube socks, a plaid miniskirt, and a navy sailor top. Her feathered hair had been styled into high pigtails and she held a Blow Pop in one hand.
Dixie noticed Olivia’s appraisal. “I’m channelin’ Britney Spears’s first video. You probably never saw it, but that’s because you don’t have teenage boys. I can lip-synch the whole thing and Grumpy loves me in this outfit. Can you spot him in this herd?”
Scanning the crowd, Olivia noticed Annie Kraus and her husband Roy in the second row. The B&B proprietors smiled in greeting. Olivia waved her hand briefly, her gaze drawn to the man sitting next to Roy. His appearance was similar to Roy’s as both men were tall and lean with dark hair and eyes, and Olivia assumed the man was likely Roy’s brother. But while Roy’s face was rounded by rich foods, his brother’s was gaunt and more weathered, like those of the fishermen in the room. His lips were drawn together and an unpleasant thought seemed to have settled between his creased brows.
Tearing her gaze from the discomfiting visage of the stranger, Olivia spotted Grumpy toward the back, a few rows shy of the rear wall and the enormous painting of Blackbeard standing at the prow of his ship,
“He’s up there.” Olivia showed Dixie where her husband was seated.
Dixie scowled. “Now how does he expect me to climb up all these damned stairs with my skates on!” She sighed. “Men. Thick as mules, I swear.”
Following Dixie was a slow process. She’d stop every few aisles in order to chat with the person seated at the end of each row and only hurried when Mayor Guthrie picked up a handheld microphone and called the meeting to order. He rapped on the podium with a wooden gavel and then quickly stepped aside to allow one of the local ministers to recite an opening prayer. By the time the audience bowed their heads, Dixie and Olivia had finally taken their seats.
After the Pledge of Allegiance, Oyster Bay’s portly mayor called for the minutes of prior meetings to be approved and the townsfolk settled down for a long wait. After completing mundane business such as passing a proposal for a universal speed limit within the downtown area, voting on the budget for mosquito and litter control, salary increases for certain town employees, and a review of the maintenance contract for the parking lots serving the public beaches, the committee members were ready to discuss the final proposition of the evening.
It had taken an hour and a half to get to the agenda item of interest. During that time, in which the townsfolk coughed, fidgeted, cracked gum, knitted, snacked on beef jerky or hard candies, and muttered softly to one another, Olivia had noticed a man carrying a laptop slip into the auditorium wearing an expensive tailored suit and a politician smile.
Committeeman Earl Johnson rose to his feet. A hush fell over the crowd as he took the microphone from the mayor. A good-looking man in his mid-fifties, Earl owned the marina and the general store supplying the rising numbers of boaters stopping overnight in Oyster Bay’s sheltered cove. Genuinely liked by almost everyone in town, Talbot Properties had won the right man to their side. And since Earl was the person putting forth the proposal for a vote, Olivia wondered if the marina would soon be expanding.
Earl smiled as he tapped on the microphone and then stuck one hand in his pocket. His casual dress and posturing seemed to relieve some of the apprehension in the air, but the sheen of perspiration on his brow gave away how important the proposal was to the committeeman.
“As many of you know, our little town has been experiencing quite a growth spurt.
He paused and Olivia was impressed by his sense of timing and calm delivery. “This past year, as a result of Oyster Bay’s population boom, we’ve seen some exciting new businesses open.” He consulted his notes. “Recently, some of our long-vacant retail spaces have been transformed into a boutique clothing store, a bookstore, and my favorite, a toy store named Animal Crackers.”
This earned him a few chuckles. Even though Animal Crackers wasn’t housed in one of Olivia’s buildings, the revitalization of those adjacent to hers were a boon. Most of her rentals had been filled by boutiques she was more than happy to patronize. She especially liked Possessions, an upscale consignment store, and Palmetto’s, a woman’s clothing store specializing in colorful, washable cottons in stylish cuts and colors. The last lease she’d signed had been for The Potter’s Wheel. The owner, a master potter from western North Carolina, planned to sell his own wares while conducting workshops for both children and adults. At first, Olivia had been reluctant to house
