“Oh, my goodness, a corporation?” Hazel Marie said. “How’re we going to fight something like that? Oh, Miss Julia, what’re we going to do?”
I didn’t know what we could do, but it just added to my determination to find out who Ridgetop was, and to find out if it was behind the establishment of a group home next door to Hazel Marie, and to find out what they had planned for a prime piece of real estate when the group home had run its course of usefulness. To that end I brought the conversation to a close and called Mildred.
—
While waiting for her to get off a conference call and thinking that getting one or two gifts wrapped was better than none, I taped a bow onto the second one and prepared to leave the guest room for dinner. A tentative knock on the door made me hurriedly stash an unwrapped gift into a sack before responding.
“Yes? Come in, but don’t look.”
Lloyd stuck his head around the door. “I won’t look, but can I come in?”
“Of course you may. Come sit down if you can find a seat.” Rolls of Christmas paper, unwrapped boxes, bows, and name tags were piled up on the bed, and the table I was using was covered with snips of paper and pieces of Scotch tape. “What’s going on, honey?”
“Well,” he said, pushing aside a shopping bag so he could sit on the bed, “I guess I just need to talk, because I don’t much know what to do.”
“About what? Is there a problem at school?”
“No’m, not exactly. It’s, well, I guess it’s about that house next door to Mama’s and what I just found out about it.”
I put aside all thought of presents, Christmas or otherwise, and gave him my full attention. That house next door to his mother’s house had ruled my thoughts for weeks, and now it was disrupting his thoughts. “Tell me,” I said.
“Well, you know Freddie Pruitt?”
I nodded.
“Well, he just found out that he’s going to be living there, and he wants to be happy about it, but he can’t because J.D.’s fence sorta tells him something. I mean, he’s happy because he’d live next door to me, but he can’t be real happy because Mrs. Taylor has told the boys that they have to steer clear of the neighbors. That means us. I mean, even me, and Freddie’s afraid he’s gonna fail algebra.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” I said, just done in at Madge for warning the boys about their neighbors. And done in as well because they were actually moving boys in, getting themselves more firmly established, without yet knowing what the commissioners had up their sleeves.
“And I know,” Lloyd went on, “that J.D. won’t like it if I invite Freddie over, even to study, because that’ll open the door to all the other boys, and first thing you know, we’d have all of ’em in and out all day long. Maybe. I mean, I can see the problem. I don’t want to hurt Freddie’s feelings, but I don’t want to make J.D. mad, either.”
I rubbed my forehead, wishing I could wring Madge Taylor’s neck for putting this boy in such a situation. “I can see the problem, too, honey. When is all this taking place?”
“Freddie said they’ve been having meetings at the DSS, learning the house rules and getting to know each other. And the last he heard was they’d move in a week or so after the commissioners give ’em the go-ahead.”
Another indication, I thought but didn’t say, that Madge had known all along that she’d have no problem with the zoning.
“And Freddie said,” Lloyd went on, “that he hopes it’s sooner ’cause he thinks his aunt is tired of him.”
“Oh, that poor child,” I said, a wave of sympathy sweeping my heart. “But back to your quandary, here’s a suggestion, at least for the time being. Since Mrs. Taylor has warned the boys—wait, how many will there be?”
“Freddie said six, maybe seven.”
My eyes rolled back at Madge’s escalation of the numbers, but I didn’t say anything. “All right. Since she’s warned them about the neighbors, let that be your guide about inviting Freddie over—you’re just following her suggestions so he won’t get in trouble with her. Then you can keep tutoring him at school or at the library. And, Lloyd,” I went on, “we’re hoping to learn more about what’s going on very soon. Just be patient a little longer. There’re a few of us who’re looking into what can be done. We’re just waiting to see what the commissioners do about the zoning.”
But, I thought, sooner or later the fur was going to fly because Mildred and I were making plans to pool our not inconsiderable resources. And it was to that end that she and I came to an agreement when she ended her conference call.
Chapter 40
Tuesday night in early December and the weather had taken a turn for the worse. It was cold and getting colder with a blustery wind that pushed itself inside sleeves and around necks, to say nothing of up one’s skirt. But the commissioners were meeting at the courthouse and, as much as I hated leaving our warm house, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
The room was full when we trudged upstairs to the commissioners’ meeting room. I looked around and had a sinking feeling because so few neighbors were there. There was no sign of Mr. Pickerell or of Jan Osborne or even of the Winsteads. As two of the three were on their way out of the neighborhood, and the third was wavering, I guess it no longer mattered to any of them what the commissioners did.
I smiled at Hazel Marie and tried to at Mr. Pickens but he had such a scowl on his face that I doubted he could’ve smiled back. Helen Stroud was there, and
