The Most Famous Illegal Goose Creek Parade (31 page)

Finally, Mayor Jerry Selbo entered from the left side of the stage. A loud hiss erupted from the crowd and rose as everyone shushed everyone else. The mayor crossed to a metal music stand in the center of the dais and tapped a microphone beside it. The minor explosions amplified through the speakers, and the crowd settled.

“Thanks, everyone, for coming out tonight.”

A screech of feedback pierced the air, and most of the audience slapped hands over their ears. A technician raced onto the stage toward a control box, and the feedback ceased. The man straightened and pointed toward Jerry.

“Sorry about that.” The mayor gave an apologetic shrug. “Anyway, as I was saying, the format of tonight's town meeting will be a bit different, since some of the Council members felt it was in their best interest not to attend.”

Al scanned the crowd and spotted Lynn Bowers' red head, flanked by Gary Vandergrift and Aaron Southworth. Beside Gary, Sally held a pen poised above a notepad. He saw no sign of Diane or Phyllis.

Jerry continued. “Personally, I think it's a shame when an elected official feels threatened to appear in public. And their fears are not unfounded. I'm sure it will come as a surprise to most of you that we have received threats and been the victims of vandalism over the issue of the painting of the water tower.” A murmur raced through the auditorium. “These acts are uncharacteristic of the good people of Goose Creek, and frankly, they sadden me.”

His expressive face did look sad, almost stricken, like a father who has learned of his child's grievous misbehavior. Al scanned the assemblage. Most of the audience displayed surprise, though a few hung their heads guiltily.

Now Jerry straightened, his expression confident. “Tonight I trust we can put our differences behind us. In just a moment I will announce the name of the individual who has been awarded the job of painting the Goose Creek water tower. The Council received eight bids for the job.”

Eight? Al exchanged a surprised glance with Millie. He'd no idea there would be so much interest.

“Each one was prepared with professionalism and attention to detail.” Jerry's gaze focused on Little Norm in the front row, and he nodded an acknowledgement. “The Council discussed them all at length. In fact, it was the longest Council meeting on record. I'm not exaggerating when I say we agonized over our decision. But in the end, the vote was unanimous.”

He halted. An expectant hush settled over the audience. Al found that his palms were damp, and he wiped them on his slacks.

“The job of painting the Goose Creek water tower will be done by”—a final pause—”Ms. Sandra Barnes of Atlanta, Georgia.”

Pandemonium erupted. Pete's group broke into applause, whooping their victory and waving their signs high in the air. On the opposite side of the floor, Norman leaped to his feet. His shouts of, “No fair! No fair!” were augmented by Hazel's cry to, “Impeach the mayor! Impeach the whole Council!” The deputies, stationed strategically at
either side of the stage, moved to form a protective line between the front row and the stage, where Jerry stood calmly, hands clasped in front of him, waiting for the uproar to die down.

Al shifted on the hard bench. He'd expected this, of course. But now that the job had been awarded to an outsider, he couldn't help but worry about the repercussions. And a woman! No doubt that would add fuel to the discontent among chauvinistic old timers, of which there were more than a few. Would Saturdays at Cardwell's ever be the same?

When the clamor had calmed enough for him to be heard, Jerry spoke again.

“I've had several long conversations with Ms. Barnes, and she's well aware of the controversy this issue has caused. Though I advised against it, she insisted on being here tonight. She wanted an opportunity to meet you and to show you a sample of her work.” His expression became stern, and he swept the gymnasium from one end to the other, spending an extra-long time staring at Norman. “I know the residents of Goose Creek will treat her with the respect and hospitality a lady visitor deserves. So please join me in welcoming Ms. Sandra Barnes.”

Looking toward the side stage, he stepped back from the microphone and began to applaud. Al joined, as did most everyone else. Norman, he noticed, sat stubbornly with his arms folded tightly across his chest.

Two people emerged from stage left to join the mayor. One was Sheriff Grimes, whose presence made a statement that needed no interpretation. The woman beside him walked with a sure step, long-legged enough to keep pace with him. She stood nearly as tall as Grimes, who wasn't a small man. Big boned and sturdy, she wore jeans, a belt with a gigantic turquoise buckle, and a worn leather vest over a starchy white shirt. Her boot heels clomped solidly across the stage. Her hair hung halfway down her back in a long, straight braid. Al recognized her immediately as the woman he'd seen a week or so ago drinking coffee at Cardwell's.

Millie leaned over to whisper. “She looks like a Texan to me.”

Behind her, the same technician who'd fixed the sound system wheeled out a rolling cart with a projector mounted on it and positioned it beside the music stand. He stretched an extension cord to the back of the stage and pulled down a portable video screen.

The sheriff stood to one side beside the mayor while Ms. Barnes approached the microphone.

“First I'd like to thank y'all for trusting me with such an important job.” Her voice drawled, betraying a deep Southern influence. “Mayor Selbo's told me about all the trouble you've been having, and I want you to know I understand. It's not my place to comment on the right or the wrong of the decision. All I can do is express my thanks and pledge to you that you won't be sorry you hired me.”

An impressive opening statement. Al found himself approving of this woman's approach.

“Now, I'm not much for speeches, so I'll make this quick. I'm not just a painter. I consider myself an artist. It just so happens I'm not all that fond of canvas or paper.” She grinned. “I'm originally from Texas, so I like to do things in a big way.”

Millie caught Al's eye and nodded.

Ms. Barnes pressed a button on the projector the technician had set up, and the screen behind her displayed an image. Somewhere someone flipped a light switch, and half the lights in the gym went out so everyone could get a better view.

The picture was of a billboard depicting a cowboy with an infectious grin, his hat pushed back on his forehead. The fancy lettering read
Welcome to Lawry, Wyoming.
An impressed murmur rose from the onlookers.

“This was one of my first commercial jobs,” Ms. Barnes explained. “People aren't my favorite subjects, but this guy happened to be the son of one of the town's most prominent residents. I thought he was mighty fine to look at.”

The comment was met with feminine laughter. Beside Al, Violet tittered and fanned her face.

The picture changed. A concrete wall had been covered in a colorful mosaic of artistic designs, the overall impression fascinating and appealing. “This is the side of a building in the Bronx, and a while back it was a favorite target for graffiti. Some of the stuff spray painted on there was, well, let's just say, objectionable. They hired me to do something that teenagers wouldn't want to cover up.” She glanced toward her audience with a satisfied nod. “It worked.”

The next photo appeared and was met with an audible gasp. A water tower, the barrel rounder and wider than theirs, had been painted to resemble a city block. Skyscrapers rose into the night, windows aglow. Cars lined the street, and pedestrians dressed in overcoats hurried past shops.

“This one is on the outskirts of Chicago.” She cocked her head and pointed. “See that blue Honda there? That's my mother's car. She wanted to be in one of my paintings, and I've learned it's always best to keep my momma happy. If you look real close, you'll see her behind the wheel.”

She turned back to face the audience, who had fallen silent as they gazed at the painting. Even Norman, Al noticed, had sunk down in his chair.

“When I saw the RFB for your water tower, I was immediately drawn to the job because of the name of your town. Goose Creek, Kentucky.” She smiled. “It sounds like such a quaint, friendly place.”

Though no one made a sound, a wave of almost palpable shame swept through the gymnasium. Al felt his share as well. He certainly hadn't acted any friendlier than the rest of the Creekers in the past few weeks.

“I even got in my car and zipped up here the next day. Drove through the town, took some pictures, had a cup of coffee at the soda fountain in Cardwell Drugstore.” A smattering of applause answered her. She planted a hand on her hip. “You know what y'all need, though? A motel or an inn or something. I had to stay overnight in Lexington.”

Millie turned a triumphant grin his way. He patted her on the leg and directed his attention to Ms. Barnes.

“Anyway, I went back home and came up with a sketch that I think fits this place. I included it in the bid I sent to the mayor, and I think that's one reason he hired me.” She grew serious. “I'm going to show it to you, but I want you to know it's rough. Something I threw together. The final will be a lot better.” Her chest expanded as she drew a slow, deep breath. “So here it is.”

She pressed a button, and the image changed. Al studied it, and a feeling of immense satisfaction blossomed in him. She had drawn their water tower, though flattened like a map of the earth to depict all sides. Across the surface lay a lush, peaceful valley, green rolling hills outlined by a sprawling fence that resembled the one around the park at the edge of town. Blue-green water rushed across a rocky creek bed, so realistic Al could almost hear the peaceful babble. Overhead, a flock of geese flew in a V formation, their feathers capturing the sunlight. The words
Goose Creek, Kentucky
swept across the sky above them.

The letters, Al noted with immense satisfaction, were perfectly straight.

An awed silence stretched on as people examined the artwork. Finally, it was broken by the sound of a single person's applause.

On the front row, Little Norm Pilkington stood from his chair, clapping with enthusiasm.

Within seconds, he was joined by nearly everyone in the place. Mayor Selbo folded his arms across his chest and gave a nod, his satisfied gaze sweeping over his constituents. Behind the podium, Ms. Barnes flashed a Texas-sized grin as the people of Goose Creek gave her their thunderous approval.

Susan stood outside on the front lawn of the school building, her arm captured in Millie's grip. Her attempts to tug free and head for
home had been firmly resisted. The sweet little receptionist could be downright stubborn when she put her mind to it. Her husband stood to one side, hands clasped behind his back, looking patiently bored.

“Really, dear, you should join us at Cardwell's. Everyone will be there.” Millie spoke without looking at her. Instead, she constantly studied the faces streaming past them. “You need to establish a presence in town. Let people become accustomed to seeing you.”

“I'm sure you're right.” Susan attempted, gently, to separate herself, to no avail. “But I'm not feeling very sociable tonight. I really just want to go home and get a good night's sleep.”

She could hope, anyway. She hadn't slept well since Tuesday.

“But this is a golden opportunity. We hardly ever have so many people out at one time.”

Susan was saved from replying by Millie's friend Violet, who arrived slightly out of breath.

“You'll never believe what just happened. Everybody was crowding around Ms. Barnes, congratulating her and wanting to shake her hand. Little Norm pushed his way through them, marched right up to her and offered to be her assistant
for free.
Said he wants to learn her technique.” A wicked gleam flashed in her eyes. “Norman stood beside him, squirming like a slug in salt.”

“Good for Little Norm,” Millie replied. “It's about time that young man stood up to his father.” She shot a quick glance at Susan, who felt herself beginning to bristle. Was that comment aimed at her?

Before she could formulate a reply, Millie's eyes widened as she caught sight of something behind her. “Dear, if you really prefer to go home, then of course you must. I'll see you tomorrow.” She released Susan's arm to grab hold of Al with one hand and Violet with the other. “Come on, you two. We'd better hurry if we want to get a seat.”