“But, listen, let me tell you what Sam found out at the Register of Deeds.” And I went on to tell her of the precarious hold that Madge and the board of Homes for Teens apparently had on the Cochran house.
Mildred was silent for a minute, then she asked, “So you think they’re just renting it?”
“I have no idea. But it’s either that or this Ridgetop Corporation is letting them have it rent free. Either way, it’s possible, even likely, that they’re being used to run off the other residents on the block. Which they’re well on their way to doing. Then the Homes for Teens could be evicted.”
“Oh, my goodness,” Mildred said, catching her breath. “Then there really is a master plan for that block. We’ve got to find out who the members of Ridgetop are and what it aims to do. Because if it’s true, and the Pickenses and the Winsteads keep holding out, they could be in for a world of trouble.”
“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking. But how can we find out?”
“I’ll tell you one thing that’ll tell us something,” Mildred said. “If we knew what the commissioners were going to do, we’d be in better shape to fight it. If they’re in the mood to grant a variance for a group home, they may go a step further and rezone the entire block.”
“Do you really think so? Would they do that?” My heart thudded in my chest as I recalled Sam mentioning that possibility. And now here was Mildred—as acute a financial finagler as I’d ever known—bringing up the same concern. And all along I’d been worried about one little house while somebody could be planning a wholesale takeover.
“That’s what we need to find out,” Mildred said. “Let me make some calls—I’m not without some influence in this town.”
Indeed, she wasn’t. And as we brought our conversation to a close, I also recalled that Sam had intimated that it could be the commissioners themselves, not a powerless nonprofit group, who had much more in mind than a simple variance request.
One good thing about this new worry, though, was that it shoved that humiliating intervention to the back of my mind. Mildred would be reaching out to the movers and shakers who worked behind the scenes—her bigtime lawyers, her bankers, her financial advisers—to see what they had heard and what they knew was being planned for our little town.
—
“Hazel Marie?” I said when she answered her phone. To allay her fears, I’d decided not to immediately ask what I’d called to ask, but to allow her to think I’d called just to chat. “I haven’t heard much about Ronnie lately, and I was wondering how he’s doing.”
“Oh, he’s fine, Miss Julia. I don’t know how he puts up with the little girls like he does. They had a baby bonnet on his head yesterday, and they crawl all over him when he lies down. He never growls or barks, just lets them do whatever they want. When he gets enough of it, he goes to sit by J.D., or in his chair if he’s not here, and that’s kinda like being in time-out for him. He’s a wonderful dog.”
“Well, I’m glad it’s working out for all of you. Have you heard from Thurlow?”
“Yes, J.D. and Lloyd walked Ronnie over to visit him last Sunday afternoon. Ronnie tried to get in bed with him, but Helen made him lie down on the floor. J.D. said that she was nervous the whole time they were there, for fear, he thought, that Ronnie would go to the bathroom in the house. But, Miss Julia, he wouldn’t do that. He’s a perfect gentleman here. Of course we do let him out on a regular basis.”
“I’m glad to hear it, Hazel Marie. You’ve certainly done a good deed by taking him in. But, listen, I was just wondering—what’s going on with the Pickerells and Mrs. Osborne? Have you heard anything?”
“Oh, Miss Julia, they’re just waiting for the closing date, but they’re both beginning to pack.”
Closing date? The thought flashed in my head as I realized that the deals weren’t done deals yet. I had to get off the phone and call Mildred, but Hazel Marie was still talking.
“I don’t know what Jan Osborne is going to do,” she went on, “but I think she’s planning to rent a place. That way, she won’t be responsible for repairs and so forth. She can just call her landlord.”
“That’s probably a wise decision. But,” I went on, asking the question that was on my mind, “have you heard anything from the Winsteads? Do you think they’ve been approached?”
“J.D. went over last night to talk to Hal Winstead, wanting, you know, to encourage him to resist any offers. And I should’ve called to tell you, but I didn’t know if it’s good news or not. Anyway, he’s been approached by the same man who’s been after all of us, but J.D. says that Hal is as tough as nails. He laughed in the man’s face and told him he’d have to double his offer before he’d even consider selling.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” I said, then thought better of it. “Except if that holding company wants it bad enough, they might just do it.”
“Yes, well, J.D. said that if he and Hal Winstead keep refusing, they might eventually give up. But I don’t think they will. For one thing, whoever is trying to buy them out already has a lot invested in this block—or will have when they all close—so I don’t think they’ll ever give up.”
“Tell that husband of yours that Sam has found out that something called Ridgetop Corporation is registered as the owner of the Cochran house, so it’s more than likely that they’re the ones after
