My chest tightens when I see flashing lights. As I get closer, I realize it’s not an emergency vehicle, but the blinking red safety lights of the Beaver Tree Service truck. There is so much going on, I can barely take it all in. Mayor Joe’s beat up Chevy pulls over to the side of the road as Brandon comforts a distraught Annie. I recognize Doug Spruce, owner of the tree service company, over by Lady Whimple with a chainsaw. A chainsaw? Annie screams as a ribbon-bedecked branch of Lady Whimple falls to the ground with a thud.
“You barbarian!” yells my sister just as I arrive on the scene.
Brandon steps between the tree and Doug.
“You have no right to do this!” I can hear him holler over the hum of the chainsaw.
Annie kneels down by the cut limb. She’s sobbing, and it’s not her normal pretty tears. She stands up and runs to Lady Whimple. “You will not kill this tree!” she yells as she scrambles up the branches—an impressive feat, considering she’s wearing her typical flowy long skirt.
Brandon watches her climb with concern.
“Who gave you permission to cut down that tree?” I ask Doug as I join the confrontation.
“Thank goodness you’re here,” Brandon says to me.
Mayor Joe walks up, a frown furrowing his brow. “Can you explain what is happening here?” he asks. “I was told there’s a public disturbance.”
“I’m just doing my job,” says Doug, crossing the street to the mayor. Brandon and I follow him. “And her sister won’t let me.”
“Elinor, did you hire the tree service to remove this tree?” asks Joe.
“No, most definitely not.”
“I’ve got orders from the owner to cut it down!” Doug counters.
“I very much doubt that,” says Brandon.
“Are you suggesting that I’m lying?” asks a belligerent Doug.
“There’s definitely been some miscommunication,” says Brandon, arms folded across his chest.
“Can I see the paperwork?” asks the mayor. Doug stomps off to his truck. He returns with a tablet which he hands to Joe.
“Like I said, Edward Frechette signed this...” I feel a little sick. There’s no way he would do that, would he?
“That proves nothing,” I say. “He’s not the owner.”
“Isn’t his mom the owner?” Joe asks me.
“That’s true,” I admit.
“So maybe he does have the right,” says Joe.
“I don’t think he would do this,” I say, but with wavering certainty.
“Of course he wouldn’t,” says Brandon.
“I’m calling him,” I say, already dialing.
Edward doesn’t pick up. For all I know, he’s still upset with me. On Saturday he bared his heart to me, and I sent him packing. I was so disappointed when I got to his townhouse and he wasn’t there. I considered texting him, but it seemed insufficient. So I waited an hour or so before I finally slipped my note through his mail slot, hoping he’d find it.
“He’s not answering,” I say to Brandon. “Maybe you should call him.”
“I have been. He’s not picking up,” Brandon says, eyes fixed on his phone. It makes me feel slightly better that Edward is ignoring both of us.
Mayor Joe hands back Doug’s work order. “This all looks in order.” He cups his hands and calls up to Annie, now perched in the top of the tree.
“Annie! You need to get out of the tree! You’re not the owner!”
