A Timely Vision mpm-1
Page 26
He nodded to a white-haired man who I thought must be the auctioneer since he came prepared with his own gavel. “We’ll start the bidding at two million dollars for this home and land. Do I hear two million?”
I took a deep breath, calmed my frantically beating heart, pasted on my big mayor smile and sailed to the front of the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, could I have your attention? I think you should know that the owner of these properties is going to be released from the hospital and will be back to claim them. Jerry Richards is not the rightful owner and can’t legally sell this or the other house.”
The people in the room began talking amongst themselves while Jerry and Chuck glared at me. Jerry recovered first. “I’m afraid sentiment over these properties runs very high here in Duck, but believe me, I have every right to auction them today. My grandfather is the sole beneficiary of the properties, and I have his power of attorney to dispose of them.”
“Officer!” Chuck called and beckoned Scott. “Please remove this woman from the premises.”
Scott looked at me and looked back at Chuck. “That’s the mayor, sir.”
I heard a faint siren sound coming from Duck Road, but I ignored it as I stood my ground. “Believe me, Jerry, you don’t want to continue. This is only going to cause you more trouble.”
The siren was getting louder, and I wondered if there was a fire close by. With the winds sweeping across town each day, fire was a frightening thought even with all the water so close by.
“Officer,” Jerry responded. “Do your duty. This woman is disrupting our legal auction.”
Scott looked at me again. “Excuse me, sir, but that is not a woman. That’s Mayor O’Donnell. I can’t throw her out. Maybe you should reconsider the auction.”
“What?” Jerry was livid, veins popping out in his temples and neck. “Never mind them. Go ahead and proceed, auctioneer.”
By now the siren was its own distraction. It sounded as if it were right outside. I couldn’t smell any smoke, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a fire. Scott and I stood between the crowd and the auctioneer. I could see they were confused and unsure what to do next. I was glad that Scott had taken my side, and I vowed that I would trust him with information if I was ever in a similar situation again. But in the meantime, the people in the crowd were looking at the auctioneer. I didn’t know what else I could do to stop the proceedings.
“What in the world is going on here?” demanded a voice I’d feared I’d never hear again in this house.
I looked toward the open front door as did everyone else in the room. Nestled between Chief Michaels and Gramps, Miss Mildred was furious. “Why are all of you people here? I can’t believe I’m gone for a few days and strangers enter my house and leave the door wide open.” She turned to Chief Michaels. “Doesn’t the town pay you to keep order in Duck anymore? This is totally unacceptable. And where is my furniture?”
Chief Michaels smiled, a really nasty smile that I loved. “I’m afraid this auction is over. The judge dropped the charges against Millie this morning. All of you are trespassing. Officer Randall, please show these people out.”
“Not before they move my furniture back and get these ugly chairs out of there,” Miss Mildred protested.
Scott smiled at me and nodded before he began herding people out the door. The expressions on Chuck’s and Jerry’s faces were comical. Jerry even took out his official power of attorney and waved it in the chief’s face. “I have a right to be here. She can’t waltz back in and screw everything up. My grandfather has some say over this.”
Miss Mildred grabbed the paper from him and ripped it in two. “I’m embarrassed to call you my grandnephew. I’m going to talk to Silas about this. And I never really liked you on the news either. You’re too tall, for one thing. And you have an annoying voice.”
And just like that, things were set right for the most part in Duck. Of course, what had happened could never be completely forgotten, but the guilty had been punished and the people who wanted to take advantage of a bad situation were put in their places.
There was a memorial service for Miss Elizabeth at Duck Cemetery three days later. Everyone turned out for it, almost overwhelming the small graveyard. The minister from the Duck Presbyterian Church talked about life and death and the love that abides among those who are left behind.
I was pleased to see Silas Butler in a wheelchair holding his sister’s hand at the gravesite. I’d heard a rumor that he was going to be living with her from now on. I hadn’t heard what would happen to Miss Elizabeth’s house, but I wasn’t worried about it anymore.
I spent that afternoon and well into the evening painting the Blue Whale Inn. I’d brought help—Shayla, Tim and Trudy—to make the job go faster. If Kevin minded, he didn’t say so. I presented him with a new shirt to replace the one he’d sacrificed when he let me cry on his shoulder.
“I heard Jerry Richards lost his job at the TV station,” Kevin said as we painted side by side. “Something about the owner not liking him disrespecting the mayor of Duck.”
“You have to be careful about what gets caught on tape nowadays.” I smiled as I laid down fresh blue paint.
“Agent Walker told me he was wrapping up the investigation into Wild Johnny Simpson’s death. Apparently, Bunk Whitley is going to take the rap for it.”
“He isn’t around to defend himself.” I dipped my brush into the paint again. “I guess that makes him a good suspect. Of course, we’ll never know for sure.”
“As long as I don’t find him in some secret closet, I’m good with that. I’m hoping this new coat of paint is signaling a new era in Blue Whale history.”
“I like that.” I smiled at him and stopped painting for a few minutes when he smiled back.
“And about your old nickname,” he began, a devilish look in his eye. “Dizzy?”
“Hey!” Shayla came up from the other side and slid her hand across his shoulder. “Didn’t I hear some promise about lasagna for dinner if we came and worked? It’s getting late and I’m starving. Why don’t you and I go inside and start dinner. Dae, Tim and Trudy won’t mind going on without us.”
Kevin looked at me, and I looked away. I had no holds on him and didn’t want to talk about being called Dizzy. “Go ahead. I’m going around back to clean my brushes anyway. I probably won’t be able to lift my arms tomorrow as it is, and Andy is expecting a repeat performance from the mayor for Tai Chi on the Green.”
The two of them walked into the inn. I didn’t see Trudy or Tim, but they were probably on the other side of the building. I’d never realized how massive the inn was until we started painting it.
It was that soft time of evening when it isn’t day anymore but it isn’t quite dark either. I washed out my brushes and stood looking out at the Atlantic as it rolled easily to the shore.
Everyone said this was the best time to see ghosts. Shayla told me once that twilight was like an opening between where ghosts lived and where the rest of us stayed until we joined them.
My eyes followed the smooth, empty sand that ran past Miss Elizabeth’s house. There was someone out there, fuzzy, not quite formed. It looked like a man and woman. She was leaning toward him and his arm was around her. Had Wild Johnny Simpson finally made it back home to reclaim his abandoned bride?
“Dae? Where are you?” I heard Tim call from around the other side of the building and glanced that way.
When I looked back at the beach, the couple was gone. Was it my imagination or had I finally seen a real ghost? “Around back,” I answered, wiping a tear from my eye. It wasn’t my mother’s ghost, but maybe there was hope for me yet.
FB2 document info
Document ID: 304f5568-3654-47cd-8f07-7f9b723c8185
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 14.9.2012
Created using: calibre 0.8.67, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software
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Joyce Lavene
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