“Youjoin me as the anti-YellowBarncampaign leader is about to address the crowd,”JenAndrewscontinues. “I’llstep back so we can listen in.”
Oh,Jesus.Ihave a bad feeling about this.
BehindJenAndrews, a diminutive figure in denim overalls, shiny blue rain boots, and a pink baseball cap, climbs onto the back of an old hay cart that’s attached to a tractor parked in the middle of the lot.
Myheart rate picks up.
Shehas a megaphone in her hand.
“Oh, fuck no.”BeforeIrealize whatI’mdoing,Islam my hands flat on the table making the daisies shake, the spoon rattle against the bowl, and the coffee slosh in the mug.
Thewoman at the tulip table gives me a hard stare and a passive-aggressive sigh.
Mrs.Lovewellrests her hand on my shoulder and puts her mouth way closer to my ear than is necessary. “Don’tmind her.Iseverything okay?”
Shefollows my sightline to theTVand squints at it, like she needs glasses but won’t give in. “IsthatGloriaandMarty’sdaughter?Polly?”
Inod slowly.Partof me wants to smile in admiration for the dramatic upping of her protest game.Partof me sees her hand wrapped around the handle of the bullhorn and wonders what it might feel like wrapped around something else she might like to press her mouth to.Andpart of me is fucking furious this is getting so out of hand on my watch.
Myarmpits are a bit clammy.Andit has nothing to do withMrs.Lovewell’shand still being on my shoulder.
“I’venever thought of her as a troublemaker,” she says.
Theprotestors turn and swarm around the hay cart.Pollycertainly knows how to pull a crowd.
Sheraises the megaphone to her mouth. “YellowBarnhas discounts in place of a soul.”
Heraudience cheers and applauds.
“Ithas big stores in place of a heart.”
Morecheers and applause and placard waving.
“Ithas national domination in place of community spirit.”
Nowthe cries of “SaveOurStreet” are back.
Pollygives the chant a moment to breathe.
Ican’t take my eyes off her.Lookat what she’s pulled off.Ihave to admire it.Butit’s fucking infuriating.
“Thatgirl’s a fighter.”Mrs.Lovewellgives my shoulder a squeeze before finally sliding her hand off.
“Yes.Thankyou.Iknow.”Istand up and rub my forehead.
Ihave to crush this campaign before it gathers momentum and gets out of hand.Thelocals need to realize aYellowBarnwould be good for them.Andthe councilmembers need to be assured that approving the plans would be good for their re-election.
“Takesafter her mother,” saysMrs.Lovewell. “Andshe’s just as beautiful.Martywas the luckiest guy in town when he snagged her.”
“Right.Yes.She’svery attractive.”Whatthe hell amIsaying?
WhyamIstanding in this shrine to all things floral, with someone who looks like she runs a bordello, discussing the hotness of a woman who wouldn’t look out of place in the pages of a farming magazine?
Pollyputs the megaphone back to her mouth. “Theytreat their suppliers so badly they can barely survive.”
Thereare boos from the crowd.
What’sshe talking about?
