I gathered my pocketbook and began to rise, ready to bring the visit to an end. Mr. Kessler was immediately on his feet and Etta Mae began to edge toward the door. Thurlow had given his usual outrageous performance, as I had counted on, so there was no reason to linger. I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Brother Vern preaching in the new lobby and Thurlow and his cousin wandering the halls of Mr. Kessler’s building. So far everything was working as I’d hoped.
Thurlow hopped up from his chair, telling us not to hurry, he didn’t have anything else to do and we could stay as long as we wanted. He scurried around me and walked up behind Etta Mae. I saw him put one hand on the small of her back as if he were guiding her across the hall. He gestured toward the door with his other hand, perhaps to distract her. Then before I could get to him, the hand on Etta Mae’s back began to slip downward.
She jumped to the side. “Touch it, and I’ll slap you cross-eyed.”
“Ooh,” Thurlow said, laughing and holding his hands up to prove his innocence. “Ain’t she feisty!”
I hurried Etta Mae out before she made good on her threat, thanking Thurlow as I went and then having to wait in the car as Mr. Kessler seemed unable to get away from Thurlow who was wagging a finger in his face. Etta Mae continued to fume for a few minutes, but began to calm down when I told her of my own run-ins with Thurlow.
We were still smiling when Mr. Kessler finally got into the car and closed the door. “Well,” he said, “he’s certainly one of a kind. I expect you don’t have many like him.”
“Oh,” I said airily, “he’s pretty typical of your average businessman in these parts. Sharp and independent-minded under all that foolishness he carries on with.” I sat back, feeling fairly pleased with the way the visit had gone. Then, as a thought struck, I leaned forward. “Why, Mr. Kessler, I just thought of something. Thurlow’s the very reason you can even think of putting up a skyscraper on Main Street.”
“I can’t imagine why,” he said, with just a tinge of sarcasm.
“Well, some of us, I mean, a group of so-called liberal do-gooders wanted the county to pass some zoning restrictions. Thurlow rose up in protest, threatening to sue the town and the county and everybody involved. Said if a man couldn’t do what he wanted with his own property, we might as well be living in Russia.”
There was a stretch of silence until Mr. Kessler asked, “What happened to the zoning?”
“Oh, it didn’t pass. Obviously, since you’re right before replacing that wreck of a courthouse with a new and modern edifice. And just think,” I said, reaching up to pat his shoulder, “you have Thurlow to thank for it, and you’ve as good as sold two units to him. Who knows, you might end up doing a lot of business together, especially since you won’t have any zoning restrictions to worry about. The county’s wide open, Mr. Kessler, thanks to Thurlow and a few more like him.”
As Etta Mae drove us back toward town, there was another stretch of silence as my words hung in the air.
Then Mr. Kessler, in that authoritative manner of his, said, “As a developer, I’m a strong supporter of open-use zoning. A man ought to be able to do what he wants with what he owns. That’s the American way. But it cuts both ways. Once a man owns something, he can put in his own restrictions, and I see that the Crowne Plaza will have to institute a few, specifically concerning who can buy in and who can’t.”
I sat back and let that bit of hypocrisy hang in the air. It was a settled fact that Mr. Kessler’s attitude toward property rights depended on whose ox was being gored.
That evening as I joined Lloyd and Sam in the dining room, I started right in telling them how well I thought things were going. “Mr. Kessler was really put off after we went to see Thurlow Jones,” I said, walking to my place. “And when Granny Wiggins got through with him, well, I think he’s seeing a different side of this town.”
Sam pulled out my chair, then rested a hand on my shoulder. “I hate to tell you this, Julia, but the word is out. It looks like the commissioners have pulled a fast one.”
I shook out my napkin, as he took his place at the head of the table. “What’ve they done now?”
“They’ve voted to sell the courthouse.”
“Oh, no,” I cried, nearly springing off the chair. “They can’t do that! Sam, when did this happen?”
“Last night, apparently,” he told me. “They held a called meeting with no public notice, which may’ve been illegal. A few of us are getting together tonight to see what we can do about it. I’m afraid we’re too late though.”
“Can the commissioners do that?” My hands were shaking, I was so angry and upset. “And not even wait till Tuesday at their regular meeting? Do they have the authority to just sell it out from under us? It belongs to the taxpayers. Don’t we have a voice in this?”
“Well, we can protest, which we’ll do. And try to get a ruling from the state to slow it down or have a bill introduced to stop it. But it’ll take time, and from the looks of it, Kessler is ready to move.”
Lloyd spoke up then. “Somebody said at school today that they’re already bringing in bulldozers.”
“You mean today?” I demanded. “Sam, do you know about that?”
Sam nodded. “Afraid so, Julia. I drove by this afternoon and they’re unloading heavy equipment at the back of the courthouse in the parking lot. They’ll probably start with the annex.”
“Oh, Lord,” I said, leaning my head against my hand, “they were doing it at the exact same time that Etta Mae and I thought we were making progress.” I glared at Sam. “Arthur Kessler knew about this all along, didn’t he? Oh, Sam, the courthouse could be a pile of bricks by tomorrow. And we haven’t even had the soiree yet, which was going to change his mind about developing anything in this town. What are we going to do, Sam? What can we do?”
“I’m sorry, Julia.” Sam gave me a tender look down the length of the table. “I hate to see it go, too. But once they start, there’s no going back. I heard that they’re bringing in a crane with a wrecking ball sometime this week. One swing of that thing, and it’s over.”
I didn’t know whether to put my head down and cry or just scream it off in frustration. “I will get back at every one of those commissioners if it’s the last thing I ever do.” I adjusted my salad plate and tried to reconcentrate my mind, aware now of the child sitting across from me, taking it all in. “Lloyd, I don’t mean to be vowing revenge exactly. It’s just that there are consequences to every action, sometimes good consequences and sometimes bad. I intend to see that this action has bad consequences for all concerned. Although,” I said, wiping my eyes with my napkin, “it’ll be too late for that beautiful, historic courthouse.”
“Here, Julia,” Sam said, passing the bread basket, “you need to eat something. Have a roll.”
“I don’t think I can. I’m just devastated about this.”
He patted my hand again and looked sympathetically at me. But I didn’t need sympathy; I needed help. But, as usual, it would be left to me to come up with something. The rest of the meal proceeded quietly enough, although interrupted by my having to sniff now and then. My mind was working, though, considering, then discarding one idea after another, until gradually a few ideas stuck.
As Sam moved his chair back before standing, I reached out to detain him. “Sam, since the weather’s so nice, why don’t you take a day or two and go on a motorcycle ride? You’ve let that machine sit in the garage too long, and it’d do you good to get out a little. Go up on the parkway or somewhere and take in the sights.”
Lloyd’s eyes popped wide. “Can I go?”
Sam laughed and patted the boy’s shoulder. “I’m trying to organize a protest. I can’t take off now. But it’s a good idea. Maybe when Pickens gets back, we’ll go.”
I didn’t want him to wait for Mr. Pickens. I wanted him out of the house today and for a few more to come.
He leaned over and kissed me. “Don’t let it get you down, sweetheart. I’ll let you know what we come up with tonight.”
I had little confidence that anything could be done, so when he left, I propped my elbows on either side of my plate and buried my face in my hands. “I can’t think what to do, Lloyd,” I said. “It is all such a shame. Worse than that, it’s an outrage. And I’ve been working so hard to show Mr. Kessler that we aren’t the kind of people he’d want to live next to.”
Lloyd said, “Maybe he doesn’t believe you.”
I raised my head to look at him. “You think?”
“Yessum, I bet he’s figured out what you’re doing. He may even like the town better because of all the interesting characters you’ve been showing him.”
“Oh, my.” I sat up straight, wondering if I’d done myself in while thinking I was doing Mr. Kessler in.
“What I mean is,” Lloyd went on, “he probably figures that you and Etta Mae kinda stand for what’s normal in the town. You, ’specially. He knows you’re not the type of person to run around with Brother Vern or Mr. Jones, and he’s met some of your friends at the dinner party. That’s who he’ll figure are the regular people in town.”
“Lloyd,” I said, wonder filling my words, “you are the smartest boy alive. You’re absolutely right. You have given me a whole lot to think about.”
“I have?” He grinned, delighted that he’d helped. “When you decide what to do, let me help.”
“Well, I’ll tell you about it.”
“Etta Mae?” I said as soon as she answered her phone. I’d run to the bedroom and closed the door as soon as Lloyd went to his room. “Have you heard? Well, get over here as early as you can in the morning. We have things to do.”
Hanging up and dialing again, I could hardly wait for LuAnne to answer. “LuAnne, has Leonard come home yet?”
“No, and he better not. I’ve had it with him.”
“Good,” I said, cringing a little as Pastor Ledbetter’s cautionary counsel resounded in my mind. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m pretty sure Arthur Kessler is interested in you.”
“He is? What did he say?”
“Oh, just that you’re an attractive woman. And he asked if you were seeing anybody.” Lord, forgive me for lying, but remember it’s for a good cause.
“He did? What did you tell him?”
“I don’t have time to talk right now, LuAnne. I just wanted to let you know, so you can let him know you’re interested the next time you see him. And to warn you. I think he’s a little shy. You might need to make it kind of obvious, if you know what I mean. I’ve got to go now.”
“Wait, Julia…”
But I hung up, unable to get myself in any deeper. I’d have to be on my knees for a good, long session by the time this week was over.