Iowned this.
“Andyou’re absolutely sure you can’t trust any of theYellowBarnexecs to go deal with it?” asksCharlotte.
“Ofcourse not.They’ddo everything they could to make sure the plans werenotapproved.”
TheYellowBarnexecs hate the idea almost as much as they hate me.Bunchof lazy asses who’ve been resting on their laurels for years tillIbought the company and made the unreasonable suggestion that perhaps they should actually do some work to justify their fat cat salaries.There’sno way any one of those resentful bastards would make the slightest effort to sweet-talk the council.Theywant to see my first idea for the chain fall at the first hurdle.
Maybethey don’t realizeIhaven’t failed at anything yet.
Well, not in business, anyway.
“Whateveryou’ve planned for me forWednesday,”ItellCharlotte, “unplan it.”
Idon’t need to look around to know that glee has spread acrossCharlotte’sface.Asmuch as she loves scheduling, she loves the challenge of rescheduling even more.
“Onit,” she says with all the joy of a kid about to unwrap a stack ofChristmasgifts.
Asthe door closes behind her,Ilean against the window again.
Maybehaving to go back there isn’t so bad.Maybenot being able to pass this down the line to someone else is a good thing.It’sbeen years sinceI’vegotten my hands dirty in the nitty-gritty of getting a project off the ground.Andthat’s whatIalways loved about this business.Itwas the fun part.AndI’vebeen removed from that for years now.
Mymind darts back toPollyin her overalls lying at my feet this morning.Andthe curve of her breasts on either side of the bib when she sat up.
Irest my forehead against the cool glass.
Andwatch a tiny tugboat in the river pushing a giant load.
4
POLLY
Myphone rings asIpark my beloved vintageVWbus outside the council building.
Convertingthe bus soIcould drive from farm to farm to collect supplies for the shop was the last thing my dad did for me.Whenhe’d finished,Carlyflexed her artistic muscles and added the “Polly’sProduce” text, and illustrations of an array of fruits and vegetables to the outside.
Andit’sCarlyon the phone. “Hey,Poll.Badnews.TheBeardedBeantwins aren’t going to meet you there.Somethingto do with a clogged coffee roaster.Orgrinder.Or…Idunno, something’s clogged.”
“Well, shit.Thatleaves just me.”Everyperson who said they’d be here to protest when theYellowBarnexec arrives for this evening’s meeting, has now pulled out. “Somuch for community spirit.”
“Wantme to close up the shop and join you?”Carlyis always the most supportive friendIcould wish for.
“No, you stay there.Openinglate onWednesdayshas been working.Let’skeep the money coming in while we still can.”
“Youcoming back here, then?”
“Hell, no.I’mstaying.”Isit a little taller. “I’mnot going to let some corporate boss storm into town and walk all over us without a fight.”
“Tryas hard as you like,”Carlysays in a lower voice, as if there’s someone in the shop she doesn’t want to hear, “but it’ll never undo what happened to your parents.”
“Iknow.ButIcan try to stop it from happening to me.”
“Gogive ’em hell.”Ican almost hear her punch the air. “AndI’llgo break it to theDuckworths’ new housekeeper that she’d better take those brussels sprouts out of her basket orMr.Duckworthwill fire her before she makes it to her second week.”
Ihang up, jump out of the van, slide open the side door, and start hauling out the placards my mom,Carly, andImade last night for the dozen people who’d promised to join me here.Tobe fair, they did all have good reasons.
Mrs.Bentleywas worried that, if she came, her nephew might realize it was she who’d told me that the council’s called aYellowBarnhoncho to meet with the planning board this evening.Shealso told me the only reason he’s been called back is because of the flood of emails and phone calls we managed to scramble together right after she first told me about the plans onMondaymorning.
Atleast that shows the council might listen, and protesting is worth the effort.ButIguess persuading people to come out and picket the meeting is harder than getting them to send a quick email.
