“I signed the petition.”
“Me too.”
“All right,” Matt said. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow, see what else we can—”
“You can do nothing.” Harry barged into the Starlight, along with the town council, Chief Grant, and Officer Patitucci. “We submitted to the process and our side won.” Harry held up a small stack of papers. “Tuesday, can we talk in your office?”
“Here I thought you came to ask me to couple’s skate.” Tuesday gazed toward Immanuel. Didn’t He have a plan? The peace and confidence she possessed earlier quickly evaporated. “We can talk here.”
She glanced at the crowd, then Matt—who nodded his approval—and Dupree, who remained stone-faced.
“I’d like to hear what you have to say too, Harry.” Audra stood next to Tuesday.
“All right. Well, here are the signatures.” He held up the papers, and Matt reached for them. “You can check for yourself. And here’s a check for the Starlight. It’s more than generous. We had it appraised, and Murdock kindly chipped in additional funds.”
Dupree took the check and skimmed the amount.
“Dup, hand that back. I’m refusing the money.” Harry might bethe mayor, but to her he was still the little runt hobbling around on eight wheels.
A few weeks ago, when he came into her office to talk, he’d tried to hand her that check—with some condition she refused to hear. She’d been so confident when she turned him down. So sure Immanuel would save the rink.
“It’s a good offer, Ma.” Dupree tried to show her, but Tuesday refused to touch that devil money.
“You can’t turn it down, Tuesday. We’re taking the Starlight.” Dale Cranston shoved in beside Harry, chest puffed out for no good reason. “Chief Grant here and Officer Patitucci are hammering up the notice of demolition tonight.”
A sheepish-looking Milo held up the orange paper with bold black letters. Tuesday stumbled back, reaching for Dupree.
“Dale, simmer down,” Harry said with a soft glance toward Tuesday. “This town owes you a debt of gratitude, Tuesday, for keeping the Starlight shining. Prince Blue would be proud. However, before we pay out so much money, we’d like to see the deed, establish ownership.” He took the check from Dupree. “I’m sure you understand. We have a fiscal responsibility to the town. We’ve checked with the county records, and it seems the deed is missing. Perhaps it was never filed in the first place.”
Tuesday stepped toward him, done with decorum. “Harry, do you truly want to see the Starlight smashed with a wrecking ball?” Yes, she heard herself, pleading, like she did when Mamaw loaded up the wagon, climbed on the buckboard, and told the driver to get going.
“It’s a done deal, Tuesday.” Dale forced himself forward. “You lost.”
She glanced toward her son and grandson, then Immanuel. Her whole life, she believed the mural was the image of a real God who came to this world as a man. She’d seen and touched Him, but in this moment, Immanuel was nothing more than a figment of Prince Blue’s imagination. A Lauchtenland fairy tale. The nightafter Leroy died? It was a dream, re-creating the prince’s story of Immanuel appearing to him on the beach. Maybe she wanted to see Him so much, her subconscious delivered.
“I’m sorry, Tuesday,” Harry said, “but we’re moving forward with progress.”
“Then if you don’t mind,” she said, “we’d all like to skate tonight. Nora, put on some music. Everyone, free rentals. Spike, can you serve up some popcorn and sodas?”
“Tuesday.” Harry gently touched her arm. “I suggest you start packing up, holding your auction. We’ll give you the summer, but that’s the best I can do. Dup, talk to her. Can you scare up the deed for me?”
“First you’re taking the rink and now you’re trying to get out of paying.” Dupree stepped nose to nose with the mayor. “If one brick is harmed before she is paid—”
“She’ll be paid, Dup. I just want to see the deed. If not—” Darn if Harry didn’t look a bit nervous with Dupree staring him down. “She’ll be paid.”
“You do what you have to do, Mayor Smith,” Tuesday said. “We’ll do what we have to do.” A flash caught her attention, and she glanced at Immanuel, high on the rolling panels, with a twinkle in His eye. “Come on, people, let’s skate. Harlow, you can wear my old Richardsons.”
The bass of “You Dropped a Bomb on Me” filled the rink. Tuesday laughed. Nora, that girl . . . well done.
“Tuesday, there’s nothing you can do.” Dale simmered like a teakettle on her old wood-burning stove. “The Starlight is coming down.”
“Dale,” Matt said, “back off. Give her a minute.”
“I don’t care to hear from you, Hollywood.” Dale was riled up tonight. “I’ll see you in court.”
“Dale Cranston, if your mama was here, she’d be ashamed.” Tuesday wagged her finger at him. “She’d expect bigger things of you.”
“Don’t talk about my mama.”
