Opera House Ops: A Morelville Cozies Serial Mystery: Episode 6 - Divided

by Hagan,Anne

  “My church, he said and then corrected himself, “our church, is small. It’s physically small; but it’s big and spirit and we have the blessing of having a growing congregation when so many churches out there are losing membership.” Many heads nodded and a few utterances of ‘amen’ arose in the room.

  “We’ve had a tough week this past week as a church, as a community, but we’re weathering the storm. The week we’ve had has brought home an important point to me though that I – that we – sometimes lose sight of. It’s that the people make the church and not the building they’re in.”

  All eyes focused on Seth. “It’s the people,” he said again. “A larger worship area would be nice but, in thinking about this historic building we’re all here to talk about, I’ve come to the conclusion, for several reasons, that it isn’t right for us.”

  An older man in the back of the room called out, “A church shouldn’t be in a music hall, a den of the devil!”

  Seth held his hands up. “There are those that take that view, yes, and I respect that. That however is the past. People change and buildings do too. No, my point is more in the here and now, and right now, that particular building just isn’t going to work for our needs. There’s much work to do to make it minimally functional for us and so much, like a full kitchen and fellowship area, large restroom facilities and parking that we’d be giving up. I just think, for now, we’re better off staying put and trying to figure out another solution for our growing pains.”

  “Faye,” he said, turning half sideways and then back, “Cole, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to discourage your project in any way but perhaps, as a community, there’s another way we can go. I suspect that building would have many other uses if we all put our heads together.”

  Not knowing what to say but seeing a passion in Seth she hadn’t seen in weeks, Faye simply nodded.

  Kent Gross jumped to his feet before the pastor had even finished. “The community doesn’t need that old building! We’re already paying to support this one right here and the church – our church – uses this one too. We have this cafeteria, a full size gym with enough room and chairs to seat a few hundred on the floor, if need be, not to mention the bleachers. There are all those classrooms that aren’t leased out and decent income from the ones that are. There’s just no need to take on an aging money drain like that old opera house.”

  Someone shouted, “You just want it for yourself, Gross!”

  Kent eyeballed the man and spoke directly to him. “Let me put it this way; I’m intent on seeing progress in the village, making it economically viable, maybe even incorporating it. If we want it to be around for a long time to come, we have to start thinking long term.” He looked around. “I think in your hearts and minds you all know it’s time for a little progress here too.”

  A woman’s voice called out “We don’t need no outsiders telling us what to think or do!”

  Kent tried to address the new agitator but he was shouted down by still more others. Around the room people started talking and bickering with each other.

  A worried look crossed Faye’s face as she sat perched on the edge of her seat again, facing the crowd. Things were getting out of hand fast.

  Chapter 3 – Quinn Steps In

  Faye started to rise but Aiden, who was sitting directly in front of her, stood first and waved her back down. He strode to the center of the front area, put two fingers in his mouth and whistled loud. Quiet instantly fell over the room.

  Seth Scott was still standing in the aisle between tables, seemingly lost in the swirl of tension in the room. Addressing him first, Aiden said, “Thank you Reverend, for your honesty. It’s much appreciated.” Seth nodded and started back toward his seat.

  “I’m going to turn the floor back over to Mrs. Crane in a minute but I want to clear the air first, okay?”

  He didn’t wait for any sort of response. “The church council, before Reverend Scott came to us a few years ago, when I was just the chair of the stewardship committee at the time, talked about utilizing the opera house building but tabled the discussion due to lack of access to the structure to gauge its overall condition and serviceability. Back then, we were working strictly off the memory of other members of the board in our discussions about it.”

  “Now that a few of us have seen the building and we’ve contemplated a move to it, it’s became sort of obvious that it wouldn’t be in our best interest. As the President of the Board, I let Mrs. Crane, our finance committee chair know that, unless myself and a couple of other board members could be persuaded otherwise, Mr. Gross, our Treasurer being one of them, but not the only one, it wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t want Cole to have to wait until our next board meeting or longer for an answer I already suspected was coming. When we spoke, I gave her some other options to think about and for Cole to think about that could work for his project and for the community at large.”

  Aiden was turning the order of things and who said what around just a bit, Faye thought, but there was truth at the base of everything he was saying. She nodded and played along. People were listening and that was the important thing.

  “We all gathered here tonight to talk about using it as a church, first and foremost, just to see if there was maybe more interest in that than we, as a few of the board members, thought. Reverend Scott is the ultimate authority on that and I think most of us here in the room agree, down deep, with what he’s said.”

  Heads nodded all around.

  “There are people in the room that are here because they’re interested in the disposition of the building that aren’t members of the only operating church in the village. Some here don’t even live in the village any longer, if they ever did but they have a vested interest in this community. All of your input – everyone’s – is valuable. This meeting isn’t about a church, it’s about what we, as a community want to do with the opera house.”

  Aiden paused for a moment to let that sink in and then he said, “I’m now going to turn the floor back over to Faye Crane and she’s going to present you with some other options and then open the floor up for discussion.”

  Faye stood again and smiled gratefully at Aiden. He’d headed off a firestorm, at least temporarily.

  “The opera house,” she began, “aside from a few private homes, is the oldest structure in the village and in most of the surrounding area stretching past Philo and Duncan Falls and nearly back to Zanesville. It should be preserved and, in fact, with the blessing of the current owner, Kara Bradshaw, we’ve already applied to have it recognized by the National Register of Historic Places. Our application was turned in a couple of weeks ago.”

  A murmur went up in the room and several people leaned forward, seemingly more engaged than they had been moments before. All but one person.

  “Who’s application?” Kent called out.

  “The Morelville Historical Society’s application.”

  “Didn’t know we had one,” he said and several people laughed.

  “It’s new,” Faye acknowledged. “I’m the founding member and there are a few other members so far including Mr. Quinn and Cole. At Mr. Quinn’s recommendation, we’ve also filed to become a 501c3 non-profit organization so we can raise funds, apply for grants and so forth.”

  “That stuff takes a while,” Kent put in.

  “Yes, Mr. Gross, it does.”

  “If I understand correctly, your grandson there needs to get started pretty soon.”

  “He does, yes.”

  “So,” a woman in the middle of the room asked, “your plan is to use this 501c whatever to buy the opera house from the owner?”

  “Conceivably, yes,” Faye answered.

  Gross rolled his eyes. “And use it for what? Not for concerts.”

  “Possibly concerts, down the road.” Faye said. “The acoustics in there are still quite good but it would need some updates. That’s something we don’t have in this building. A gym isn’t the same as an auditorium, after all.”
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  “In the meantime,” she went on, “it could be the base of the Historical Society and contain a museum, artisan booths and more. Our goal is more preservation in the beginning than utilization though until we get the roof repairs done and a general overhaul to the interior.”

  Kent stood then and moved into the aisle.

  “I’m not finished, Mr. Gross,” Faye told him.

  “Everyone else has had a shot at the floor, let me take one too. I think I have some valid points to contribute if you’d all just hear me out. We can weigh your ideas against mine and let the people decide.” He waved an arm around expansively.

  “Let him say his piece,” Jesse said as he half rose from his own seat. “He won’t shut up until you do.”

  Faye had to admit, Jesse had a point. “All right then. Go ahead Mr. Gross.”

  “Let me make some things clear to the folks in the room they may not be aware of. First off, I know a little something about buildings on the National Register. It’s a nice designation and it will bring a town that’s not too far off the beaten path a few visitors but it’s not a money maker and, when it comes right down to it, it’s going to keep taking more and more money to support that building. You and your board – if you have one, Mrs. Crane – will need to figure out how to support the operating costs for the building for the long term. I imagine you’re planning on asking these good folks here for handouts to get started, correct?” He raised an eyebrow to Faye and waited for a response.

  “It’s part of what we needed to talk about if we go with one of the things Cole and I are looking at, yes.”

  “I see,” Gross nodded, “and now they all do too.” He waved a pointed finger back and forth and then he paused to let that sink in for the attendees. Faye had hoped to ease into talking about money but he’d ruined that idea.

  “The other thing there is that you were probably going to ask community support to buy the building outright from Ms. Bradshaw, weren’t you?”

  “Actually, we’d planned to mortgage it.”

  “Using what entity Mrs. Crane? We’ve already mentioned how long it takes to get a 501c3 designation. It can be six months or more. Your grandson here doesn’t have that much time.”

  Cole looked downcast. Lance put a hand on his shoulder, squeezed and whispered something to him. The teens expression didn’t change.

  “Here’s the other thing about a National Register building you may not know,” he said, going back to addressing the crowd, “the designation doesn’t come with any restrictions. The building owner can do whatever he or she wants with it; resell it, even tear it down.”

  Faye watched as horrified looks crossed some faces.

  Kent didn’t let up. “What happens folks when the community can’t afford to keep supporting both this well maintained building and one that was built before modern electricity and gas – where those things were added as an afterthought? What will it cost to keep heating a building that was erected long before insulation was a thing?”

  “I’m a real estate developer. This is what I do for a living. I’m telling you tonight that your hearts are in the right place but we need to think with our heads about the costs and what’s best for the village in the long run.”

  A few heads in the room bobbed in agreement. Others just stared and a few seemed to seethe with contempt either for the man speaking or over what he was saying; Faye wasn’t sure.

  Cole found his voice. “It doesn’t sound good for my project.”

  Kent gave him a soft smile. “There are other projects son. There’s something out there that’s the right fit for you.”

  Craig Stroud stood and waited to be recognized. He was a highly community minded man involved in everything from the annual Mushroom Festival to directing the Halloween haunted house portion of the Fall Festival that was currently taking shape in the old school hallways and classrooms off the other side of the gym. Faye was anxious to know his thoughts.

  When Kent didn’t yield or even acknowledge him, Faye stood and spoke up. “You’ve had a couple of minutes Mr. Gross. I believe Mr. Stroud would like to speak. Mr. Stroud; please go ahead.”

  Kent moved a step to his left but remained at the front of the room.

  “I just have a couple of questions for Mr. Gross and I’m guessing we’re all wondering the same thing. It’s no secret around here that you want that building…actually, that land for yourself, so let’s stop beating around the bush. If the community doesn’t buy the building or the Historical Society – which I would be happy to join, by the way – then I’m sure you will buy it. Am I right?”

  “I’ve considered it, yes. The current owner wants far more for it than it’s worth.”

  “I’m sure, Mr. Gross, that you’re trying to wear her down.”

  Several people laughed.

  “What I want to know is, what do you plan on doing with it that would be such a step forward for this community?

  “That’s a good question and I’m glad you asked. I’ve come to this meeting prepared too. Give me just a moment.”

  Gross walked over to the table where he’d been sitting, picked up a manila folder and pulled a sheet of heavy card stock out of it. He flashed it toward Faye and then held it up to the crowd. Pictured on it in watercolor was what appeared to be a new version of a large Victorian home with an expansive front porch.

  “I’d like to introduce you to the 15 guest room Morelville Bed and Breakfast and Day Spa.”

  Chapter 4 – Resort?

  “You’re joking, right?” someone asked.

  “Not at all, not at all. This is just phase one in a long term plan to bring better quality of life and some – dare I say – much needed jobs to the village. Think about what’s around us. Lots of people come to spend a day at Blue Rock State Forest. Unless they’re camping though, they have no place to stay.”

  “There are no hotels in Philo or Duncan Falls. They’re driving 40 minutes back to Zanesville to find a bed for the night. Why not keep them right here? Amish country isn’t that far from here either. People go up there and stay. Why not have people stay here? They can spend a day at Blue Rock, a day in Amish country, a day at the spa, enjoy pastries from our new bakery, enjoy a pizza or maybe a nice meal at a restaurant that can finally afford to run for more than just breakfast a lunch…make a long weekend a mini-vacation.”

  Faye looked over at Chloe. Her eyes were alight listening to Kent’s pitch. She still had being a nail tech in her heart and Faye knew it had been hard for her to give up her idea of having a salon in town. She had to admit, she could see the appeal for her friend.

  “That sounds all fine and dandy for the women,” Jesse said, “but what do you have that’s going to make men want to stay around here more than ten minutes?”

  “I know you fish, Mr. Crane. There isn’t much fishing in the forest but fishing is allowed in the game preserve. Only hunting there is off limits. Fisherman would come to town for that and hang out for a couple of days with their wives. And then there’s the long range plan.”

  “Yeah, what’s that?” Jesse asked.

  Gross reached into his folder for a couple of more watercolors. “Other men will come for golf.” He held up a painting that showed the rolling hills of a course with a clubhouse in the background. “I already own most of the necessary land to do a proper 18-hole course, the only one for 40 miles around.

  Jesse laughed out loud but Marco corrected him. “They will. Hell, my boys would be here with their wives in a heartbeat if they could hit a course while the ladies did the spa thing or went to Amish country.”

  Kent nodded, “See? And then there’s this.” He held up the final painted rendering, a rustic looking building surrounded by grape arbors. “I have the perfect spot with great soil for a winery. We’ll grow our own grapes and bottle our own. The winery will have a fine dining restaurant and a more casual lounge area. I know everybody here loves the Boar’s Head and some of you are probably headed up there after this meeting, even.
This is just another option for both the locals and for tourist dollars.”

  “That’s what this is really all about, isn’t it Kent?” the senior Quinn asked him. “It’s about money in your pocket, not about helping the village.”

  Gross shook his head. “I’ll make money, yes but so will the store, and the bakery and the gas station, and all of the community events, and all of the people that these businesses will put to work.”

  Chloe asked, “Why can’t we have it all? I mean, think about it, we keep the historical building and we do the crafter stuff or concerts there. That will draw people too and you build your bed and breakfast and spa and whatever else somewhere else? I mean, how much space would it take up that you couldn’t use part of that golf course land?”

  Several people began talking over each other. Faye stood and waved her hands for quiet. “Let Mr. Gross answer the question,” she begged the crowd.

  “The golf course land is about a mile out of town. It’s not convenient to your store, the restaurants and the bakery. Putting the B&B there just wouldn’t work for the vision.”

  “So you’re saying this is going to be right there where the opera house is now?”

  “Ideally, yes.”

  “Why not on the property you already own next door to that Mr. Gross?” Mel asked.

  “It’s not large enough, Sheriff. To get in all the guest rooms and the spa, and to have parking for all of the guests, both lots would be needed.”

  “So there’s no chance of saving the opera house with your plan?” Faye asked.

  “You’re just trying to play Mayor but no one here elected you!” the female agitator at the back of the room called out, before he could respond to Faye.

  Dingy Dale Walters stood and accused, “I just bet you burned your own building down and tried to catch that opera house on fire in the process! You might have even killed that man they found dead in there, for all we know.”