As he pulled into his driveway, he wished he had Motrin in addition to the antacids. Someone had kicked over his garbage can and strewn trash all over the yard. With the way his luck ran, Miss Jones probably already complained to the city.
Knowing he needed to pick up his yard before approaching Miss Jones to ask if she saw anything, he changed out of work clothes into jeans and a t-shirt. In addition to fresh garbage bags, he grabbed his winter gloves to protect his hands in case there was something unsanitary or sharp. These people couldn’t be trusted.
He went through the front door after collecting supplies. He took one step forward and immediately lost his footing. His arms wind-milled but were powerless to provide counterbalance.
He hit the wood hard as something squished and crunched. His ass hurt and something gooey spread cold against him. Closing his eyes, he lay on the porch, assessing the damage. His toes wiggled, so did his fingers. His behind was as bruised as his ego. After slipping and sliding through two attempts, he up righted himself and looked around. Yellow sunshines, thick mucus, and jagged shells covered the porch. On top of everything else, he’d been egged.
Chapter 13
The town hall parking lot overflowed onto car lined streets, making Claire all the more grateful that she accepted Jo’s invitation to carpool. Earlier in the evening, she joined Jo and her son for dinner. Jo’s arthritic neighbor, Mrs. Edmunds had shuffled up the path at 7:30 and had settled onto the couch with her knitting as Claire and Jo tucked Kevin into bed. Jo seemed utterly unconcerned with the time. If it hadn’t been for the distraction of getting Kevin to bed and learning his current routine so she could give Jo and her mom a night off sometime, she would have yelled at her friend to get the lead out.
“Are we late?”
“Don’t worry. They can’t make any major decisions without you. Besides, it’s seven fifty-six. The meeting starts at eight.”
“You’ll probably have to stand. The council supposedly reserved a seat for me up front, but with this crowd, they may have changed their mind.”
As they approached the building, Jo’s phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID. “Sorry. I have to take this.”
Claire nodded. The call probably had something to do with Kevin. “I hope everyone is ok. I’ll catch up with you later.”
Entering the foyer, the unmistakable clatter of a heated debate reached her ears.
“People, people! She’ll be here any minute so let’s get this resolved!”
Who and what resolved? Her hand froze on the door handle. She edged it open a crack.
An unmistakable voice reached her ears. “I still say, if we could convince her to have ‘sexual relations’ with that man, the problem would resolve itself. He’d be a fool not to compromise.”
“Thank you, Miss Jones, however just because you saw the two of them engage in behavior you termed ‘inappropriate’ doesn’t mean we should soil the reputation of one of citizens. End of story.”
Her jaw fell open so wide, she was certain a garden sized train could drive into it. What were they doing in there and could cleanse her ears of Miss Jones’ saying sexual relations? Her stance wavered. She tripped into the room, dropping her portfolio and falling to her hands and knees.
A collective gasp rose from the crowd that occupied every seat. Some people glanced away or looked at the floor. Chairs squeaked as other people shifted positions. The air in the room grew heavy and still. Claire sucked it in through flared nostrils. The standoff seemed to stretch to eternity.
“Claire Evans!” Mayor George Halberstam broke the silence. “You’re early. I thought you train people believed in punctuality.”
She hated being put on the spot, especially when that spot was carpet level. As she gathered the remnants of her dignity, she stood. Glancing at the sea of faces, realization dawned; they were in the awkward position, not her. They had no right to discuss her sex life or lack thereof in a public forum.
“Mayor Halberstam, as a founding member of Belken’s model train society, you know we value punctuality. However, I also believe in being prepared and wanted few minutes to set up my easels. But, apparently, you started the meeting early and on a different topic?”
A few sympathetic chuckles echoed in the hall as the mayor turned crimson. She hoped a few others shared his humiliation.
He hemmed and hawed trying to find an appropriate response. Jo saved him by bursting through the doors, the left one of which caught on the portfolio and pushed it further across the floor.
“Sorry. I had a phone call and she got away.”
Claire stared at her friend, shaking her head. “You were in on this secret meeting?”
“No. I was with you.”
If there was one thing she learned about her friend growing up, it was that Jo easily cracked under the right sort of pressure. With arms folded across her chest, she looked Jo in the eye, cocked one eyebrow, and drummed her foot on the floor fully aware that most of the audience now focused on them.
“Okay, okay. I tried to distract you because I suspected this lot would deal in rumor and I didn’t want to be part of that speculation. I know who lingers a little too long over their coffee and pie.”
Claire followed Jo’s glance. Bob’s flush extended over his face, past his ears, so far up his hairline, that even his white hair had a reddish cast. Beside him, his daughter buried her face in her hands.
“What rumors this time?”
“Word on the street is...well... you and the... Grinch.” Jo’s voice grew tighter with each word so the last one came out as squeak. “You know how good George is at gathering information.” Jo’s face contorted as if she were in physical pain. If she were the one who spilled the beans, the guilt would
