This caused a stir among the listeners, as people looked at one another, wondering what he meant. One of the commissioners—I couldn’t see who it was—said, “Stick to the subject.”
Mr. Pickens replied, “That’s what I’m doing. So, to sum up, with the number of cars going and coming and blocking driveways, the lack of parking space on the property itself as well as on the street, the overcrowding in the house which creates a fire hazard, the resulting overuse of the sewer system, and the possibility of being rezoned commercial or worse, I suggest with respect that instead of overruling the zoning board and granting a variance for the Homes for Teens, the board of commissioners denies that request and declares the proposed use of the Cochran house a public nuisance.”
He turned and walked back to his seat beside Hazel Marie, whose face couldn’t have expressed more pride in her husband. I thought that some of the rude, outspoken people who had already raised their voices in protest would do the same to Mr. Pickens, but nobody did. Instead the room remained quiet—subdued, in fact, until, one after another, those in favor of granting the variance gathered their courage and spoke, either angrily denouncing anyone who would deny a child a roof over its head or sobbing, as one woman did, because heathens were hindering the work of the Lord.
My land, if I’d not known better, I’d have thought that those opposed, which included me, were the most hard-hearted and selfish, even demented, people on earth.
—
Shivering in my heavy coat as the car heated up, I was quiet as we drove away, but Sam wasn’t. He sneezed all the way home.
“Are you getting sick?” I asked, searching for a Kleenex in my pocketbook.
“Might be,” he said, sniffing. “My head feels like it’s about to explode.”
“Well, so does mine, but not because of a cold coming on. I just couldn’t believe some of those people. The whole thing was like being in a room with Madge multiplied.”
Sam laughed, then sneezed again. “Pickens did well, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he did. I didn’t know he had it in him to control his temper as he did.” Glancing at him, I went on, “There’s some Robitussin in the medicine cabinet.”
He turned into our driveway, then said, “I don’t need cough medicine, but an aspirin or two might help.”
When we got inside and had divested ourselves of scarves and coats, Sam said, “Well, what did you think?”
“I’ve been waiting for you to tell me. What really happened in there?”
After hearing from more people than had signed up to speak, Pete Hamrick had called for a motion to delay a decision on the Cochran house not only until the commission had a full contingent but also until they could consult with the zoning board. To the many shouts of disapproval, a motion was quickly made and seconded, and the commissioners had all but run from the room.
“My bet,” Sam said, “is that they’ll go into a closed session, make their decision, and blame whatever it is on the zoning board. Then they’ll bury it among other things on the agenda in a small announcement in the newspaper. Whatever they decide, they’ll get some blowback. Which is probably why the chairman wasn’t there.”
“Well, I wish they’d voted tonight, because if they approve the variance, Mildred and I have plans of our own.”
Sam smiled. “Care to tell me what they are?” Then he had another sneezing fit.
“You go take some aspirin while I fix you some hot tea with honey. Then you’re going to bed, and I won’t be far behind.”
“Okay, but tell me what you and Mildred are up to.”
“All right, but don’t tell anybody. If the vote goes against us, we’re thinking of forming a holding company or . . .” I stopped and reconsidered. “Or we’ll just do it on our own, but somebody needs to outbid whoever is buying the other houses—you know, the Pickerells’ and the Osborne house. And you may not know this, but the Winsteads have caved because Marie Winstead said she’d cleaned that huge house for the last time, and she was moving to a townhouse with or without Hal.
“So that means that we have to step in right away before their closing dates. That’s why we’re so anxious about what the commissioners will do. But I’ll tell you this, Sam, the fact that they didn’t make a decision tonight does not bode well for us.”
“But what,” Sam asked, “would you and Mildred do with three empty houses?”
“We just figure that if that property is so valuable to a secret buyer, then it ought to be valuable to us as well.”
“My word, Julia,” Sam said, staring at me. “Do you two know what you could be getting into?”
“Well, no. But that’s never stopped us before.”
“But, honey, you’ll still have the Homes for Teens to deal with.”
“I know, but if the commissioners grant a variance for them, then that opens the door for another one. We haven’t yet decided what we’ll do, but it’ll be something that Madge and her crew will not like.”
Sam’s eyes rolled back in his head, then he sneezed again. “And have you figured out what you’ll do when you run afoul of J. D. Pickens?”
“Wel-l, not yet, but if we’re able to run Madge off, which is what we hope to do, I figure he’ll thank us in the long run.”
Chapter 41
“I knew it!” I said, slapping the newspaper down on the table, just missing the cup of coffee that Lillian had slipped in front of me.
Sam had handed the paper to me, folded to the small article at the bottom of the front page,
