The audience laughed, and Deryn cringed. In her hand, her phone vibrated with an incoming text. It was the family chat, which Victoria was blowing up with commentary from the middle of the auditorium, where she sat between Marsha and Greg. Rhiannon, was getting angrier on the chain with every new text from Victoria, Seren and Ceridwen chiming in occasionally to underscore their agreement that the son of bitch was just so damn dumb.
Aunty Vicky: WHY ARE THEY LAUGHING???? He literally called nursing, educating, and hospitality women-only professions! I can’t stand the motherfucker!
Queen Rhy: HIS WIFE IS AN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL TEACHER!
Seren aka First Twin: Clearly, someone needs to perform a wellness check on that woman.
Queen Rhy: Nah, she chose him and clearly stands by him if she is not charging that podium with a skillet to bash his brains in. I’m so sorry I’m missing this. Please keep sending updates.
Deryn did not participate in the texting, too busy watching every expression cross Paloma’s face. Concentration, thoughtfulness, concern, empathy, anger. There was a flash of the latter after Moss’s latest comment about women.
“Ms. Allende, your rebuttal?” Judge Astor looked particularly uncomfortable as he redirected his attention from Moss to Paloma. Well, everyone should be uncomfortable. Deryn sure as fuck was. She was raging because, somehow, despite everything, this damn man was running neck and neck with Paloma.
The audience’s whispering, giggles, and applause for the tasteless jokes Moss made stopped, and Deryn saw Paloma grip the podium tighter.
“I think—sexist humor aside—the underlying issue of the lack of workforce resources on Dragons at large alongside the price of housing and the fact that women are paid much less for their labor and cannot afford the steep rents that are only going up every year?—”
“Your resort sure cranked up those rates even higher there, missy!”
Moss’s campaign manager’s outburst caused commotion. Some applauded, some booed, and Judge Astor was forced to use their gavel.
“Order! Order! Mr. Moss, since there’s no penalty I can impose on you for the lack of decorum from your staff, I will simply ask you nicely not to interrupt. Am I understood?”
Deryn smiled. She had known that careful, stern voice all her life. Uncle Christian had been a mainstay in the Crowhart household since before she was born. He could deliver a scolding like no other.
“I apologize, Your Honor. It’s just that’s pretty big of her to claim the rent is high when it’s her resort that’s causing everything to go up in price.”
“I said, not another word, Mr. Moss!” Judge Astor raised his voice, and Deryn saw Victoria stand up and applaud.
“Go Judge Astor! Moss, you have zero qualifications to be speaking about any of this. A hundred islanders have jobs thanks to that resort!”
“Mrs. Crowhart-Moreau, I’m going to ask you to leave if you don’t sit down. Everyone, let’s keep this civil!”
Victoria threw an apologetic gesture and sat down, Marsha tugging on her sleeve.
“Ms. Allende, you still have your rebuttal, if you wish.” Judge Astor motioned to Paloma’s microphone, and Deryn watched as a series of emotions crossed Paloma’s face, annoyance the most prominent one. But underneath it all, she could see the rage simmering.
The goddamn injustice of it all…
“Thank you, Mrs. Crowhart-Moreau, for bringing up the hundred jobs that the Astronomy Resort has created. I would like to mention that at least half of these staff members were former country club employees, and the salaries at the Astronomy Resort have allowed them to live much better lives, since they are incomparable to what they were paid previously. In fact, a quarter of my resort employees moved to the island after getting a job at Astronomy because their salaries were sufficient to afford the rent. The rest? They are Crow’s Nest residents who had been unemployed before the resort was built. This is all without mentioning that even in its soft openingstage, Astronomy Resort has brought twenty-five percent more tourists to the island this fall than any other year before.” Paloma, who was glaring daggers at Moss as she spoke, visibly relaxed her jaw and turned back to the audience.
“The issue at hand is a much bigger one. The island is both cursed and blessed by its geology and geography, if you will. Dragons is small, and cannot stretch to accommodate too many people, so the construction projects on the island need to be very carefully vetted. I have seen at least five different development plans that are either out of the price range of any islander, ugly and unfit for the established architectural style of Crow’s Nest with its Tudors and Victorians, or said development isn’t residential at all. In fact, the biggest project currently on the desk of the town architect is a museum. It is so large that it would occupy an area which could easily accommodate over fifty family homes, or a small development that, if built three stories high, would house at least three hundred people. The size of the proposed museum is absurd for a town as small as Crow’s Nest. So, since I have a right to ask a question, here’s mine, Mr. Moss. Who and what motives are behind the so-called Crow’s Nest Faith Museum, and why is it already fully funded by a ‘private’ donor? Now, don’t you wish your campaign manager’s outburst had remained an inside thought, Mr. Moss?”
Deryn, along with the entire audience, gasped. In fact, the synchronicity of the collective gasp would’ve been comical if not for the seriousness of the question.
Seren was the first on her feet this time, beating Victoria to the punch.
“A faith museum? In the place of family homes? Now, which faith would that be, Moss? We have Christians and Muslims and Jews in Crow’s Nest.”
Not even Seren’s questioning could stop Victoria, however.
“On an island where Puritans literally burned women to death on speculation and rumor of witchcraft, you are building a museum to what, exactly? Answer the people, you coward! Who is paying for our land, land that is imbued with the blood of innocents? With the blood of my family?”
Moss was pale as a sheet, clearly taken by surprise. He coughed, drank some water, and spilled most of it on his shirt as the questions and accusations rained on him from the audience.
In the end, when he spoke, it was a feeble attempt to pacify the people.
“Nothing is approved yet, dear residents. Yes, the museum would be a monument to our values, to our past as a bastion of faith, of holding the morals?—”
