We move to the front, and I’m aware of Winnie’s arm rubbing against mine as we scooch close together by the mic.
After greeting everyone and thanking them for being here, she begins, “As you can see in the budget breakdown?—”
“What about the neon lights?” Mayor Barbie interrupts.
“We discussed this,” I say as calmly as possible. “The venue can’t support additional electrical load.”
“But think of the photos on the World Wide Web!”
Elmer Finch clears his throat, brandishing a printed spreadsheet. “Speaking of expenses, this brownie bar soda fountain line item is concerning.”
“The ice cream is a sculpted centerpiece,” Winnie explains patiently.
“It’s frozen water!” Elmer counters.
“Actually, dairy and we got a discount from Dimato’s.”
“This town is surrounded by frozen water! Can’t we just?—”
“But it’s ice cream,” Winnie and I say in unison.
Mayor Barbie pulls out fabric swatches. “I’m thinking hot pink and turquoise for pops of color!”
“We’ve decided on the theme already and the cost of items is in the corresponding budget outline. Changing it now would require?—”
Gail Clearwater stands, waving her sage bundle. “Before we continue, we must cleanse the energy of this space?—”
The smoke alarm goes off.
I close my eyes. “Councilwoman Clearwater, we’ve discussed this. The sage sets off the smoke detectors.”
“It’s sacred smoke!” she protests over the shrieking alarm.
“It’s still smoke in a public building with fire code regulations!”
I grab the extinguisher—not to use, just to make a point—and Gail reluctantly extinguishes the sage with a petulant scowl.
The alarm stops.
Sam stands in the doorway, slightly out of breath. “I propose additional refreshments, including my special chicory cider!”
“Is it alcoholic?” I ask, already exhausted by this conversation.
“Is that relevant?”
“Very.”
Behind him, a burro trots in—Silver Sam’s companion, Buttercup, complete with a service animal vest that I’m ninety percent sure is fake.
“Sam, why is there a burro in the council chambers?”
“Emotional support! She’s registered!”
“With who?”
“The International Burro Bureau!”
“The IBB is not a real thing!” I rub my temples.
