Trouble on Main Street

by Kirsten Fullmer

“Are you okay?” the man asked, eyeing her foot propped against the wall for support.

  “I’m fi—” the dog jerked, nearly knocking Sam off her feet, and she scrambled to get her footing and rein him in.

  “You better go,” the dog’s owner said with a grimace.

  Sam waved and turned away, upset that she hadn’t learned what the mayor had been doing in Boone.

  Latrice, the head janitor at the courthouse, handed the trash bag over to Monique. “I know ya’ll are on High Alert, but going through the trash?”

  “We need to know what the mayor has been up to,” Monique said. “You’re sure this is from his office?”

  Latrice, currently on leave from the society due to helping out with a sick grandchild, pulled a face. “You think I’d be handing over any old trash? Give me some credit.”

  “Sorry,” Monique muttered, “I’m just not excited about this.” She opened the bag to peer inside and the smell of stale fast food rose up to meet her. She scrunched her nose and turned her head.

  Latrice held out a pair of disposable gloves, and Monique dropped the bag. Once the gloves were in place, she laced her fingers to push them the rest of way on. “This isn’t my idea of a good time,” she complained.

  “Honey, you got no idea…” Latrice clucked.

  Monique tossed her friend a look, sure that she was probably correct. Gingerly, she reached into the bag to poke around. Among the aging foodstuffs was a myriad of receipts, as if the mayor had emptied his pockets at his desk. One in particular receipt caught her attention, and she smoothed it out on the thigh of her jeans. “Look at this,” she exclaimed, pointing to the address at the top. “This is in Boone.”

  Latrice leaned in for a closer look.

  Jessica turned from the Tasty Queen order counter with her loaded food tray. “Where do ya’ll kids want to sit?” She asked her two little boys.

  “The playland!” Both boys chimed.

  Jessica’s eyes scanned the room. “You know we don’t go in the playland until we’re finished eating. Huh-uh. Momma can’t eat in a room that smells like stinky socks.”

  The boys tossed each other an eye roll.

  “Oh, let’s sit over here,” Jessica said, spotting two old men deep in conversation. She recognized one of them as Jeb, an aged man on the city council. She slid into the booth with her back to Jeb and motioned for the boys to sit on the other side of the table. With her ears perked, she arranged the boys’ fries in front of them and opened their burger pouches, leaving only the top of the hamburger sticking out.

  Jeb was saying something about Main Street!

  “Momma, you gave me the one with pickles,” little Robert complained.

  She shushed him and switched burgers.

  Jeb complained to his buddy, “—the mayor had it all laid out, but the more I think on it, I don’t think it’s such a grand idea.”

  Jessica picked up her coke. She was so distracted by the conversation behind her that she nearly poked herself in the eye with the straw.

  The other man took a slurp from his coffee cup, then set it back on the table. “We have such a nice little Main Street, seems like tearing half of it out is counter intuitive.”

  Jessica choked on her Coke.

  “Well, I don’t see much hope for it now,” Jeb continued. “The mayor—"

  “Momma, he took my fry,” Robert bellowed, pointing to his brother.

  “Shush,” She snapped, but it was too late, she couldn’t hear what Jed had said. Then, to her horror, the men got up and left.

  Robert, now wary of his mother’s expression, slumped back into his seat. “What’s wrong momma? Do you smell stinky socks?”

  Chapter Four

  As Heidi sorted mail the next morning, she considered the information the ladies had been passing her way. Some of them had called, some texted, some came to her home, but everyone had something to share. It was clear now that the mayor was involved in something because he’d been canceling long-standing appointments, and he’d been spotted in Boone multiple times. Not that Boone was a big deal, it was the timing that threw her off.

  Boone was the county seat though, did that mean anything? The banks were all located in Boone too.

  She scoffed. If a person needed anything more than a grocery store or simple clinic, they had to go to Boone. The fact that the mayor was spending time there could be something or nothing at all.

  She finished sorting and moved on to putting mail in the post office (PO) boxes. Did the mayor actually think he’d get away with demolishing part of Main Street? And if he did, how should the society go about stopping him?

  From what Jessica had heard, the city council was aware of the situation. What did they think? She knew the members were getting older and most of them trusted the mayor implicitly. Half of the council couldn’t even hear well anymore, did they really understand what was at stake?

  Adam smiled and waved at the post master as he left the post office. She was a cute little thing with her short, sandy colored hair and button nose. Something about her smile and her busy-body manner charmed him. Driving into town to get his mail from the PO box was a bit of a pain, but at least he got his mail early, and he got to see Heidi. His stomach rumbled so he pulled into the local café. One thing about bachelor life was the limited selection of food at home. If it didn’t involve a barbeque, he likely didn’t know how to cook it.

  Bells over the café door jangled as he entered, and the few customers seated around the place looked his way. Self-conscious that he was a curiosity in town, he made his way to the counter and settled onto a stool.

  The cook, a tough looking man with a crewcut, turned from the grill wearing a grease-spattered apron. He leaned on the other side of the counter. “What can I get cha?”

  “Two eggs, scrambled, two pieces of bacon, and coffee—if it’s fresh.”

  “I’ll start a new pot.” The man grunted, then turned back toward the grill.

  Adam took the opportunity to glance at the other café patrons. Having waited for the post office to open, he’d missed most of the breakfast crowd. All that remained was a mother with a few little ones in a booth and a truck driver at the other end of the counter.

  The bell over the door jangled again and in walked a very dapper man wearing a finely tailored three-piece suit and fancy mirrored sunglasses. He was rail thin, had an exceptional beard and curled mustache, and wore ridiculously shiny shoes. The man’s attire reeked of superiority, wealth and eccentricity.

  He spotted Adam and with a swagger, he made his way across the café, clearing his throat loudly to make sure everyone noticed his arrival.

  Adam had heard about the mayor but he’d thought surely the description of the man had been exaggerated. Now, however he thought the outrageous account of the man had been watered down.

  Sadly, it was also a well-known fact that the mayor of Sugar Mountain thought himself superior to his constituents. In the mayor’s mind, townsfolk looked up to him to handle every situation, to manage the town, and to deal with every crisis. It didn’t matter that he’d pretty much walked into the job when the old mayor died. He was the leader, the director, the monarch, if you will, of Sugar Mountain. He loved to dress the part too, with his style being half hipster, half-southern gentleman. His liked his suits loud, his beard perfectly trimmed, and his hair glossed into a perfect loop on the top of his head. He wore spicy cologne and got his shoes shined each morning. It was all part of his persona. He loved playing big man on campus.

  The mayor dropped dramatically onto the next stool and Adam glanced up, offering an almost imperceptible nod of welcome. He was about to turn back to wait for his coffee when he spotted the little woman at the mayor’s side. He hadn’t even seen her come in, maybe because the mayor had dominated the scene. She slunk away to sit in a booth, making Adam wonder what kind of relationship the man must have with the mousy woman.

  The mayor adjusted his sunglasses to assess the newcomer.

  Adam consi
dered it rude of the man to wear sunglasses inside. Or maybe he just didn’t like that he couldn’t tell where the mayor was looking. Something about the man made him think of the man’s clothing as more of a costume then clothing, like he was hiding something behind the outrageous façade.

  “Good morning, my fine new friend,” the mayor said, fingering his curled mustache.

  Adam considered the man’s tone and volume overbearing, putting him off even more. “Morning,” he grunted, not interested in mixing with the locals, even if they were colorful.

  “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting,” the eccentric man continued, stroking his beard as he perused Adam.

  Adam sighed inwardly. Somehow, he’d pictured moving to a small town less intrusive. But it was his own fault. He’d sat down at the counter, where anyone could sit down next to him. He turned on the stool and extended his hand. “I’m Adam Williams.”

  The mayor pumped Adam’s hand up and down enthusiastically. Then, with Adam’s hand still clenched in his, his eyes narrowed as he considered the newcomer. His expression brightened. “Oh yes, you bought the old Shaw place out on highway 221.”

  Adam tugged away his hand.

  “I’m Mayor Winslow,” the dandy man stated confidently, his words smooth with a southern drawl. “My full name is Thomas Everett Avery Winslow the third, to be precise.”

  Adam didn’t like blowhards or show-offs. “Nice to meet you, Tom,” he muttered, trying not to sound too disgusted. He didn’t want to make enemies in high places—he just wanted to be left alone.

  The mayor frowned under his beard. “Townsfolk call me Mayor Winslow.” He emphasized the word mayor for effect.

  Adam fought the impulse to roll his eyes. “Oh yeah?”

  “What brings you to our lovely little town?” The mayor asked, unable to miss Adam’s disdain.

  Adam felt no need to satisfy the man’s curiosity, but the mayor stared at him, waiting for a response. “Looked like a pretty place,” he finally said.

  The cook slid a plateful of food onto the counter along with a full-to-the-brim coffee mug. “Cream or sugar?”

  Adam shook his head and the cook turned away.

  “How are you finding Sugar Mountain?” The mayor asked.

  But Adam had reached his limit for the morning so he simply stuffed a forkful of eggs into his mouth and motioned toward his plate.

  The mayor got the message. “Ah yes, well, we’ll visit another time then.” And with that he rose from his stool, once again surveyed the room, then motioned for the woman to follow him and strolled toward the door.

  Adam could only assume the man made his rounds each morning, scoping out his town. He had no idea what to make of the woman with him.

  Monique held the phone between her ear and shoulder as she wiped off tables in the empty tavern. “I don’t know,” she said, “I just know that Heidi is down. I’m worried about her.”

  A voice on the other end of the line hummed and Monique straightened, her brow knit. “Who told you that?”

  Again, the caller spoke and Monique headed back to her place behind the deserted bar. “Well, if Heidi told Sam, and Sam told Michelle, then it must be true.” She filled the sink behind the bar with hot soapy water and added glasses to be washed. “So, that new guy— what’s-his-name Williams—he told Heidi about this demolition review thing?”

  The voice buzzed with a long-winded explanation as Monique washed the glasses and placed them on the drainer. “Huh. So if Mildred is checking it out at the courthouse, what can I do to help?”

  The caller went on and Monique nodded in agreement, nearly dropping the phone into her wash water. “Right, I’ll get everyone talking over here tonight and see what I can find out.” She waited as the voice continued. “Yeah, Sam should be able to get that old gossip, Nancy, talking when she drops off Snoopy. If the old bat knows anything, she’ll spill it.”

  The voice took an admonishing tone.

  Monique dried her hands and sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be nice. Someday. Talk to you later.”

  She ended the call and pocketed her phone, then stared across the bar, deep in thought. So it was true, the mayor planned to rip out the old houses on Main Street, including Heidi’s.

  Her head swam with the horror of it, and she reined in her thoughts. No sense getting all worked up

  She reached under the counter and turned up the police scanner. Maybe someone on there would be talking about the situation.

  Heidi finished the last mail sort of the day and pushed the cart out to the waiting truck. She’d hardly been able to concentrate all day and she hated it. She prided herself on being organized and in control. But how was one supposed to act normal when their home was in danger? The house was more like a family member than a structure of wood and brick.

  Tucked in bed the night before, she’d done some research on her phone, and she now knew that before any demo happened there was supposed to be a survey done of the area in question. A survey would take into account the current situation and a report would be written up.

  A wheel of her bin came off the ramp, and she yanked on the bin to get it back on track. What was the point of doing a survey here? Traffic on Main Street was certainly a problem, everyone knew that. The tourists complained about it, that and the lack of parking, but the locals had to deal with the gridlock every day.

  Her research had also shown that once a problem was determined, like traffic being jammed up on a continual basis, an engineering firm would design a solution. Something like widening the existing road. Next, they’d decide what was in the way of the solution and draw up a plan for the demolition, including handling dangerous materials like asbestos and gas lines. Then a demolition expert would draw up a schedule for equipment and debris cleanup so construction could begin.

  She pushed the bin of mail up into the truck and wiped her forehead with the inside of her elbow. Just thinking about her house as a pile of debris was more than she could bear. Not only was it her and Tyler’s home, she was expected to will the house on to the next grand master.

  She’d come to love the old place and all its secrets. She and Tyler had lived there since not long after her husband’s death. How could she uproot him? He’d been through enough trauma. Where would they go?

  She pushed the empty bin back down the ramp, then stood numbly by while the driver signed off on the paperwork. When he slammed the truck doors, the jarring noise made her flinch.

  A whole list of things needed to happen before her house would be torn down, but she didn’t know where in the process they stood.

  Had the survey been done? It must have, because all those rolls of drawings had been coming to the mayor. A solution must already be underway.

  But surely the society would have gotten wind of the things by now if the project was designed and they were actually ready for demolition.

  Then again, the society had been busy working to get potholes in the north part of town filled. They hadn’t necessarily been watching for new projects.

  It was a shame that since old Betty died, they didn’t have a member of the society on the town council anymore. The loss of an informant was obviously a problem.

  She trudged back into the post office and collected her purse. Feeling older than her 42 years, she locked the door and headed to her car. Mildred should be calling her within the hour to report what she’d learned at the courthouse.

  Was that handsome Mister Williams right? Could she contest demolition, or was it already too late?

  Carefully, she pulled into the congested traffic on Main Street. She’d already decided to oppose the expansion, but now, looking at the traffic, was it fair for her to keep her house while the town floundered in gridlock? What other solution was there?

  Her head swam with possibilities. Who could help with the situation? Who knew about construction and roads?

  A honk behind her made her jump and she inched forward. Glancing in the rearview mirror she frowned. Must
someone honk just to move six feet? She sighed and slumped back in the driver’s seat. The only person she could think of who knew about these things was Adam Williams. Yet, she wasn’t happy about the prospect. Something about him made her edgy and not in a bad way.

  She puffed out a breath. Okay, so he got her all worked up just by saying hello. And yes, that was new and different. It also wasn’t important. Her silly school girl reaction to him had nothing to do with the situation at hand.

  But was he trustworthy? She didn’t know anything about him, after all.

  She gripped the wheel and squared her shoulders. She didn’t have to do any of this alone. All she had to do was notify the society and put out an All Points Bulletin on Adam and she’d know everything there was to know about the man within 24 hours.

  Yes, once she got home that’s what she’d do. No sense wasting any more time. She needed information and to deal with the situation and Adam was a good source, no matter how handsome he was.

  Chapter Five

  Adam cranked the wrench another twist, then straightened to admire his work. The body of the Jeep was nearly ready to paint, and it was high time he ordered the paint and got on with it.

  A frown creased his brow. Once the thing was painted, he’d need to turn it over and paint the other side. Even though he had a hoist in the garage, it would be too awkward for him to lift the thing alone. He’d need help.

  The doorbell rang inside the house, and he froze. Who could be at his front door? He didn’t know anybody.

  He grabbed a rag and headed inside, wiping his greasy hands as he went. When he reached the front door, he squinted to peek through the peephole. To his surprise, a young woman wearing running shorts and a tank top stood on his porch. Was she lost? She didn’t look like a salesman.

  Using the rag he twisted the knob and swung open the door. The girl squinted at him through the screen, so he leaned out to push it open.