Miranda's War (12 page)

“No thank you, Mr. Chairman.”

“You can't really believe you're going to persuade a majority of the town to go along with you, to basically vote no confidence in me, in my long record. I've been serving the town for twenty-three years.”

“I know. And you were a federal judge and an eminent professor of administrative law, and many people respect what you've done. But will they impeach me for this deal? No.”

“Your husband doesn't agree with what you're doing. He won't be supporting you next week.”

She froze.

“Good day, Mrs. Dalton. We'll let the people decide next Wednesday night.”

He walked out. Miranda rejoined Julia.

“He wouldn't make that up,” said Julia. “He doesn't do that.”

“I know. He wants to get rid of me, off the Commission, out of Lincoln.”

Miranda and Archer had a normal dinner forty-five minutes later except that tonight she could not look at him. She wondered if the emergency town meeting was actually Ted's idea, filtered through Archer and accepted by Karl. It was announced the very day they had met Ted. This was probably the nadir of her life, even worse than the day she had been accused of stealing a pair of diamond earrings from the ladies' locker room at Longwood and spent the next three hours with Archer, Ted and a Newton police officer trying convince them the whole thing should just be ascribed to a tennis court misunderstanding. If she was right, then the marriage was over.

Late that night, well after they were all asleep, she went into Archer's study, accessed his server, which she had first hacked five years ago but had not had occasion to access since, found the manuscript of the article he'd been working on for the last six months, and deleted 19 of the 187 footnotes. They were consequential ones; she knew the prestigious publications he relied upon for his major hypotheses. If he didn't catch them and turned it in this way to the Society for the Study of Urban Planning, their editors would be obligated to initiate a formal charge of plagiarism, which would have to be reported to M.I.T. His career would be tarnished forever. And if he did notice the footnotes were gone, she would delete others. Now his reputation would be as much in her hands as hers was in his.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“No, no, no,” Miranda told Mike Dann in the small screening room at Boston University. “Effective propaganda is infused with satire. This is so serious. You can't have a re-creation of the Commission vote with Karl looking like a Chairman is supposed to look. This actor you've got is playing him too straight.”

“Keep watching, Mrs. D, I've got him fumbling with the laptop just like you wanted.”

“That's at the end of the sequence, much too late. Look, I've got at most ten minutes to turn the perception of this man from statesman to fossil. And this sequence just doesn't do much. The other scene of him outside talking to that woman about Target and misunderstanding her, that was better. But this is basically wasting 38 seconds!”

“I did that scene stoned.”

“What?”

“But I did the opening scene stoned too and you love it.”

“Impressive.”

“What's Mr. D think of this?”

“He doesn't know.”

“Oh, so you got the dough.”

“No, actually he does.”

“What is he, a closet case or a head case?”

“Enough!”

He took some notes.

“You'll like it, Mrs. D. 'Cause I wouldn't mind doing the sequel.”

“You want a sequel, then make them laugh at Karl,” she admonished. “This little movie is being shown free of charge. So my production budget is limited. But Garrett Tristan will be there watching.”

“Woo, the lady has powerful friends.”

“I do,” she said, and ran her right index finger down his chest, stopping just above his belt. “And if I pull this off, your movie is going to be part of his next documentary.”

“Nice. Now leave me alone, Mrs. D if you want a new scene by tomorrow. I've got to get into that seminar room tonight to redo it.”

She got up to leave, but not without his asking, “And how about a big Lincoln air kiss on the way out?”

Giving him one, she felt his hand clutching her waist.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Archer, Ted, Karl and Scott Tully, the Lincoln town counsel, were in a conference room at Adams & Threlkeld. Archer demanded the meeting when Karl told him Miranda had not backed down, and in fact seemed emboldened as if she were on a quest for vindication.

“How about some sort of letter from the Board of Selectmen?” asked Archer.

“Saying what?” asked Scott, beginning to show irritation at being thrust into the middle of the dispute between warring factions of town officials. “I represent the town, which means I have to be neutral.”

“Bullshit! You have an obligation to avoid emergencies,” said Ted.

“I've been here for over an hour now, away from my work, and I'd like to know what you want me to do.”

“I want you to draft a letter to Miranda stating that she is costing the taxpayers thousands of dollars and she should resign.”

“Show me some law on that, Mr. McFarland. What authority do I have to take sides?”

“You represent the town, and surely it's in the interest of the town to avoid an emergency town meeting.”

“What about the
Antar
decision?” said Karl, referring to a case that allowed a town's Board of Selectmen to cancel an emergency town meeting the day before it was scheduled in order to negotiate a compromise and end the dispute. “That seems to give the town a lot of discretion.”

“I agree, sir, we can negotiate, and we can cancel the town meeting if the Selectmen vote to do that. But my position is to represent the town, not you. I answer to the Chairman of the Board of Selectmen, Bayard Cahill. If he wants to send Commissioner Dalton a letter, then I'll advise him what he can and cannot say.”

“Can the Selectmen tell her she's out of line?” asked Archer.

“They already have by voting for an emergency town meeting.”

“OK, then how about a statement advising her she's acting improperly in voting to sell the Pierce House?”

“They asked me to do that, but I concluded we just can't say that. The Commission has the authority to sell the Pierce.”

“But they can recommend against it,” said Karl. “I've talked to all five of them. It's unanimous.”

“The Selectmen can say whatever they want. But under the Municipal Advocacy Code, the other side gets equal time.”

“So she gets a rebuttal?” asked Ted.

He nodded.

“Our hands are tied,” said Karl. “Legally we can't take any other action before the meeting. And that's perfectly fine with me. I called this meeting. I want it to go forward.”

“You don't know what she's going to do. Nobody knows her next move,” said Archer. “She's going to surprise you.”

“I'd like to send a letter threatening to sue her for the costs of the town meeting,” said Ted.

“The town can't do that,” said Karl.

“And that means me. It would come from my exchequer,” said Archer.

“Oh please, it's a threat. It doesn't mean they're going through with it.”

“She knows there's no authority. You send that letter, and she'll bring it up at the meeting as Exhibit A in her case against you.”

“I'm putting an associate on this for five hours of research.” Ted punched an extension into the phone.

“Five more hours?” Archer said. “Even at your friends and family rate, it's expensive.”

“No charge, old boy. Not to worry.”

A young Asian woman appeared carrying a yellow legal pad and a pen.

“Good morning, Mr. McFarland,” she said.

“Bill this to Archer Dalton slash Miranda slash emergency town meeting.”

He directed her to sit down, introduced everyone and recited the facts.

“I want a memo from you by 6:00 today detailing what options the town has in order to deter Mrs. Dalton from going through with this. Here are some thoughts. This list is, of course, non-exclusive and subject to your thinking. Can we initiate some action to have her declared mentally unfit? She's very narcissistic, suffers from grandiose visions of herself, loses touch with reality, has been accused of theft.”

“Enough!” said Archer.

“OK, that gives you the flavor of it. Second, I want to know how we can skew the rules of the town meeting to prejudice her. For example, which side goes first? Can we tell her she's going first, and then, at the last minute, switch the order?”

“Absolutely not,” said Karl.

Ted continued undeterred. “Can we make her stand in a cage, like they used to do in England in criminal cases?”

“This is no way to run the affairs of Lincoln,” said Karl. He got up and walked out.

“Ted, I'd rather my wife not be shackled before the entire town. Do you mind?”

“Alright, I won't elaborate any further. Go ahead and begin,” Ted told his associate. “And I want creativity. You did it at the preliminary injunction hearing last week. I'm counting on you to push the envelope here.”

She excused herself and left.

Chapter Twenty-Five

On the morning of what Miranda knew was the most momentous day of her life she arose at 6:00, jogged for twenty minutes on the treadmill in the basement and had a pomegranate-blueberry smoothie. When it was late enough, she called Julia.

“How are you feeling, my friend?”

“Terrified.”

“For both of us. I'm OK. We're going to have a little reception at Town Hall at 5:00 for Garrett Tristan. He's coming over with some of his Boston film school fans.”

“I'm supposed to go to a party two hours before the big event?”

“As my father told me on the morning of my wedding: ‘I don't care how you really feel. You're gettin' married, girl, and it's the happiest day of your life.'”

“Then what?”

“Then we head over to the elementary school and oversee the installation of the AV equipment. I want to make sure it's done right.”

“I don't know anything about audio visual equipment.”

“I know. But you're more grounded than me. Keep your ear to the ground all day and tell me what the buzz is.”

Then she awoke Asa and laid out his clothes.

“Is today the big meeting?” he asked.

“It's tonight. I'll have a lot to tell you tomorrow.”

She made them breakfast and stood on her side of the island watching the
Today
show while they ate.

“Why don't you sit down?” asked Archer.

“That's alright. I had a smoothie. I don't feel like sitting.

“How about some wheatgrass?” she asked him.

“Doesn't seem appropriate today, does it? Maybe a double scotch.”

At 9:00 she and Julia took a long walk on the trail from Flint's Pond to the center of town. Miranda stopped the few passers-by they encountered to ask what they thought about the emergency town meeting. Nobody had made up their minds; they needed to know more facts and see the principals firsthand.

“You see, the town isn't against us,” she told Julia. And with each encounter Julia's mood brightened. Miranda was not so sure the people were really undecided. They could have simply been too well mannered to say they opposed her. But she never wavered from her pose of confidence. It anchored Julia; and Julia anchored Nate.

At 11:00 Archer called.

“Hutch, you know you don't have to go through with it. This isn't the Supreme Court. You can call Karl right now and say, ‘Let's work something out.' Be informal.”

She put him on speaker while reviewing her outline of arguments yet again.

“Are you there?” he asked.

“I'm here, love. I was half expecting to get served with some legal papers this morning.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I guess Ted is holding his fire for now, right?”

Now Archer was silent.

“I took a long walk around this morning. Lincoln looks very composed to me,” she told him.

“Lincoln always looks composed.”

“That's what I mean. Today is just another day in the life of this beautiful town. I don't see signs of existential angst. Do you?”

“Oh come on, Hutch, at 7:00 hundreds of people are going to crowd into an auditorium and decide what to do with you.”

“And they haven't decided. They're going to watch everything carefully, and then decide. And I'm not going to let them down. I'm going to give them my side.”

“You can't win this. Did you win at Longwood?”

“I have to go, love.”

He started to say something and she ended the call.

She persuaded Julia and Nate to help unload the AV equipment at the elementary school. She wanted them in her sights. Bayard Cahill, who sided with Karl on everything, was also there to oversee the activity. He stood by Miranda wherever she went, cell phone in hand, chatting with someone about placement and angles. Anticipating a tremendous turnout, she persuaded him to set up two overflow rooms with large flat-screens. She was pleased with how it looked at 3:00. The main stage had a speaking podium and three huge flat-screens angled so that the people in all sections of the auditorium would have a close-up view of the speaker. This had never been done at previous town meetings. But the Selectmen had approved it on her recommendation, apparently not realizing the consequences of close-ups of a seventy-four-year-old man juxtaposed with her. It would greatly help her set the tone of generational change.

“You know this is costing the town $17,000?” Bayard told her as they stepped over rows of cables running down the hallway of the school.

“Send the bill to Karl.”

“I think I should send it to you.”

“Let's talk about it tomorrow. Loser pays?”

He agreed and seemed stunned by her confidence.