Bill suddenly stands. “Yes, we do. Some of us—” He clears his throat. “Put yourself in my… our shoes. Some of us are hanging on by a shoestring. I, they, we need this.” Bill looks over at Kitty who nods at him to continue.
“I say, let’s have some fun with this. A competition. We can go toe-to-toe. The best ideas can win something.” Glancing at the other members, he turns back to face the crowd. “I’ll throw in a ten-dollar discount on a pair of shoes. I’m sure others will do something equally as generous.”
I’d like to laugh at all of this, but Bill isn’t wrong. Many of the Main Street businesses are struggling ever since the mega discount store opened in Excelsior, thirty minutes from here. Luckily, Bella’s shop is the best place to get sweet treats in a hundred-mile radius or she’d be in trouble too.
“There you have it,” Kitty says once more. “Two weeks. Let’s hear your ideas. I agree that we need to make this fun. I’ll throw in a free advert in my column for one lucky winner.”
Now, you’d think that would be a crappy prize, but everyone reads Kitty’s Corner. Everyone.
“Before we move on with the rest of the agenda, we’ll take questions.”
That was a mistake. Because nearly everyone in the room shoots a hand up like we’re in grade school.
“Well, crap on a cracker. We don’t have time for all ofthat,” Kitty grumbles. “We’ll take two questions. The rest of you, write ’em down and put them in the suggestion box. We’ll work through them before the next meeting.”
Moans and groans abound. “You.” Kitty points to someone up front. “What’s your question?”
“Oh.” Casey Fisher stands. “I, um, was wondering how you plan to pay for the big city ad agency you mentioned earlier.”
“Donations,” Kitty snaps. “Next.”
Donations?What donations?
“You.” Kitty points to someone on the other side of the room.
“I guess I had the same question as Casey. What donations?”
“We’re working on it.” My goodness, Kitty’s being evasive. No doubt it’s because she doesn’t actually have a plan.
That’s okay. I do that sometimes. I throw up an answer to get the question to disappear. We all do it.
Kitty hits the hammer and says, “Next up on the agenda….”
And that’s it. She really does take control of these meetings. It’s amazing considering she’s two hundred years old.
By the time Mona’s name is read, the crowd has gotten considerably smaller. People filtered out slowly after the initial discussion of the television show. When Kitty said, “Okay, Mona. What is it now?” I knew we were almost done.
Thank goodness.
“I’m here to address the issue I have regarding Velma Lou Hamlin’s excessive noise at herlatestproject. My tenant has issues.”
I can’t see the front of Mona, only her backside, but I hear an eye roll from here. Lots of people around here don’t get what I do. Sure, they see the before and after of my house projects, but they don’tseewhat I do. I’ve invited people in after I finish and I usually get a few walk-throughs, but for the most part, there’s a little indifference. Neighbors of my rehabs appreciate that I’m restoring old places which, in turn, makes their own properties more valuable, mostly. But I think it’s a woman thing. Many have old notions about what we, as women, should be doing. Luckily, our town is filled with people my age or younger and that attitude is changing. Slowly.
“Velma Lou, would you like to respond to this complaint?” Kitty asks, frowning at Mona. The two of them, well, they’re like oil and water.
Hell, everyone is like oil and water with Mona.
“Sure.” Standing, I move up to the front of the room until I’m next to Mona. “I follow the ordinance you laid out for me. I only use power tools from eight in the morning to five at night, Monday through Friday, and ten to three on Saturday.”
“That’s not what she’s doing.”
I turn my head slowly and glare at Mona. “Yes. It is.”
“My tenant—”
Kitty pounds her hammer. “We don’t have any complaints from any of the other neighbors, Desdemona.”
“Because they’re gone during the day.”
