And for now…
That’s enough.
51
Ellen Price
Town Council Member
Tom Weaver doesn’t belong in my kitchen.
But there he is.
Sitting at my table like we’re old friends.
Coffee in one hand.
A manila folder resting on the wood between us.
“I won’t take much of your time,” he says pleasantly.
I didn’t invite him in.
But he didn’t exactly ask either.
“I don’t have anything to discuss with you,” I reply.
He smiles like that answer is adorable.
“You do,” he says. “You just don’t know it yet.”
He slides the folder across the table.
I don’t touch it.
The paper sits there like something radioactive.
“Zoning committee meets next week,” he continuescasually. “There’s going to be a motion to reclassify three parcels near Main Street.”
“That’s not on the agenda.”
“It will be.”
I push back my chair and stand.
“You can leave.”
He doesn’t move.
Instead, he opens the folder.
Inside are copies of documents.
My mortgage.
My medical bills.
My son’s student loan statements.
