by Mak K. Han
A tear plopped from Jeannie's eye. “How dare you? That barn has been in my family for generations. And now you're going to try and take it from me?”
Dana rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on now. Enough with the drama.”
“No. No.” Jeannie turned away and moaned. “Oh, why me? Why are you people doing this to me? Here I am trying to keep your town beautiful and all you do is punish me for my good deeds...”
“This is a waste of time.” Huffing, Dana left the table. Just before she disappeared into the stacks, she turned on her heel. “The tree is dead, Jeannie. The barn burned to the ground forty years ago. We're bulldoz—”
Dana's promise was cut off by Jeannie moaning at the top of her lungs. “Oh, why is everybody against me? I try to do something nice and everyone just spits in my face...”
Dana threw up her hands and stormed off. Tim looked at Jeannie, and then at us, and excused himself.
“Now, now, it's okay,” George said. He put his arm around Jeannie's shoulders. She pushed him off.
“Quit trying to get in my pants, loser. If you want to do something, help me keep the tree up.”
George grimaced and left behind his father. He avoided eye contact with us as he passed.
“Girls.” Jeannie looked at us. “You understand my struggle, don't you? Please, sign my petition.”
I shook my head. “I have to get back to work.”
From over my right shoulder, Emily said, “I'm sorry. I was writing a lot last night and got writer's cramp. The doctor says I can't sign anything for at least a week.”
From over my left shoulder, Alex said, “No.”
With that, we departed, leaving Jeannie to her meltdown. I said goodbye to Alex and Emily and retook my seat beside Susan.
“So how did it go?” Susan asked.
From the back of the library, Jeannie moaned. I shook my head.
“This is not going to end well,” I told her.
Chapter 7
My last patron of the day on Monday was Maryanne French. She came up to the desk with a copy of The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein. I smiled, took the book, and set about checking her out.
Behind Maryanne, Alex and Emily came in.
“Hi,” I said to them as I ran the book through the scanner. “Just one second.”
“Take your time,” Alex said. “We're not getting out of here anytime soon.”
“Hm? What do you mean?” I asked.
“Sheriff Caldwell blocked off Library Street. There must be a hundred people across the road.”
“Yes, getting through was a pain,” Maryanne said. “It took me twenty minutes to convince Frank to let me through. If Danny didn't need this book for a report, I would have given up.”
I finished checking out the book and sat back in my chair. “Hold on, what's going on?”
Maryanne took the book and tucked it under her arm. “Jeannie Ferdinand. You haven't heard?”
“No,” I said. I looked over at Susan. She shook her head.
“She chained herself to the tree. She says she's going to stay there until Dana adds an addendum to the town charter stating that the Ferdinand family doesn't have to abide by the CBSS.”
“Seriously?” Susan asked, incredulous. “How is she getting away with it?”
Maryanne shrugged. “She has half the town on her side.”
“Half the town?” Alex exclaimed. “How can that many people care about one stupid dead tree?”
Maryanne shook her head. “The people siding with her aren't interested in the tree. They're people that have had problems with Dana Jones in the past. Like Tyler Warren. Do you remember last year when Dana made him take down his Christmas lights? She said they were too bright and that nobody could see the other houses' lights?”
Susan, Alex, and Emily nodded.
“Well, he remembers too. He's totally against the CBSS.”
I sat back in my chair and rubbed my eyes. “This isn't about the tree anymore. It's about the CBSS.”
“Jeannie is turning the town against Dana,” Emily murmured.
“That sounds about right,” Maryanne said. “What a mess she's made. She really is her father's daughter. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to see if I can get home.”
“Why would leaving be a problem?” I asked. “I thought Sheriff Caldwell wanted people out of the area.”
“He does. The people around the tree are fighting amongst themselves. So when someone neutral—like me—walks by, the anti-CBSS people try to recruit, and the pro-CBSS tries to recruit.”
Alex nodded. “I saw three people handing out petitions on the way here.”
I cocked my head. “How did you and Emily get in here?”
“We snuck in through the woods. Sheriff Caldwell wouldn't let us in through Library Street.”
Maryanne left. Susan announced that she was going to do a walk-through of the library before we closed. Alex and Emily remained at the desk. When Maryanne and Susan were out of earshot, Alex leaned forward. “Okay, Laura. We think Jeannie is playing at something else.”
“How do you mean?” I asked.
“This isn't about the tree,” Emily said. “It's about something else. She just won't say what. That's where you come in.”
“Your static thing,” Alex continued. “You talk to Jeannie, figure out what she's after. Then we can resolve this thing before it blows up.”
I crossed my arms. “No way,” I said, shaking my head. “I've had enough of Jeannie Ferdinand. If she wants to camp out chained to a tree, let her. I'm not involved and I want to keep it that way.”
“Come on, Laura,” Alex pressed. “You haven't seen it out there. It's a war zone. The town is split in two and nobody's sure what they're fighting over. We're thinking if you talk to Jeannie, you can figure out what it is she wants. Once we figure that out, we can get it to her, end this whole save-the-tree nonsense, and move on.”
“We're worried,” Emily perked up. “The town is on the brink of rioting. We need you. There's going to be a town meeting tomorrow, but we don't think that's going to do any good.”
“I'll think about it,” I said. “For the time being, help Susan and I clean up. I want to get out of here.”
Emily, Alex, and I got to it. Truth be told, I wasn't planning to get involved. The whole controversy was looking more and more like a squabble between Jeannie Ferdinand and Dana Jones. I didn't know (or like) Jeannie Ferdinand and I'd never even officially met Dana Jones. It didn't seem like my place to interfere. My prediction: in a few days this would pass, and everything would go back to normal.
I was right—in a few days everything would pass. But things would never go back to normal.
Chapter 8
Tuesday's town meeting was supposed to start at 4:30 and go until 5:00, but it didn't start until 4:45 and by 5:00 there were still people filing into the library.
The actual conflict was Jeannie Ferdinand versus Dana Jones, with Tim Hayfield caught in the middle and starting to lose his patience with both. That was the crux of the issue. Most of the town, however, viewed the conflict in vaguer terms: people who disagreed with the CBSS, symbolized by Jeannie, versus people who agreed with the CBSS, symbolized by Dana.
The tables were still arranged in the rectangle Jeannie had arranged a couple of nights earlier for her save-the-tree meeting, but tonight there were far more participants. Most of the town was crammed into the library around the table. Tim Hayfield sat at one end, surrounded by his construction crew, Dana at the other, surrounded by members of the CBSS.
“This is getting ridiculous,” Tim announced. He was keeping his calm but there was an edge to his voice. “I was supposed to clear the end of Library Street days ago, and here I am, stuck waiting for you two to decide what to do with Ferdinand's property.”
“I know exactly what's happening with Ferdinand's property,” Dana shot back. “We're clearing the tree and we're clearing the barn. Now it's just a matter of getting Jeannie out of the way.”
Tyler Warren, a middle aged bald man with glasses, spoke up from the edge of the group. “Now hold it right there, Dana. You do a lot of bossing around, but why should we listen to you?”
Dana peered into the crowd. “Tyler? Is that you? Is this about your Christmas lights last year?”
There was silence for a moment. “Yeah, it is about Tyler's Christmas lights. It's also about you fining me for having too many cars in my driveway,” Walter Grayson said.
Dana turned to address Walter. “The addendum in the town charter clearly states—”
“Screw the town charter!” Walter snapped. “My daughter was visiting. I haven't seen her in two years. And how do I spend the visit? At the impound lot trying to get my car back. To hell with the addendum!”
Murmurs of agreement rose from the crowd.
“Hold on,” Lenora Hyde, a retired science teacher who walked with a cane, stepped forward. “Okay, maybe Dana has abused her position. Walter, she shouldn't have fined you for the cars. Tyler, she shouldn't have made you take down your Christmas lights. But what happens if we don't have the addendum? The whole reason we set it up back in the seventies was so we wouldn't end up with eyesores like the burned-down barn in the first place!”
Silence for a minute. Then, from Tim: “So are we tearing down the barn or not?”
“Thank you, Lenora,” Dana said. “And yes, Tim. We're tearing down the barn.”
“There you go again!” Walter exclaimed. “Speaking for everyone! Let me ask you this: when was the last time you actually asked us what we think? You allegedly represent everyone's best interest. So how do you know what's in our best interest?”
“You want me to do a vote?” Dana asked. She'd kept her cool until now, but there was definitely heat rising in her voice. “Fine. Everybody, who thinks the barn—which burned down forty years ago—and the tree—which is dead—are eyesores?”
I thought of raising my hand. Frankly, I'd noticed the tree and the barn my first day at the library, and thought it was an eyesore then. But I didn't raise my hand because I didn't want to get involved.
It ended up being a wise choice—the few people who did raise their hands got dirty looks from the people who thought Dana was overstepping her bounds as head of the CBSS.
“You see that?” Walter exclaimed. “A couple of dozen people are on your side. Everyone else thinks the tree is fine where it is.”
Dana ignored him. “Okay, how many people refused to raise their hand because they're worried about the backlash?”
This time, nobody raised their hand, but Dana had made her point. There were others, like me, who wanted to stay out of the whole mess.
“I propose this,” Walter said. “We hold a vote. A secret vote, like we do on election day. We'll have it Friday. That'll settle the problem.”
“That won't settle anything!” Dana exclaimed. “It doesn't do anything about Jeannie! It doesn't matter what the vote decides if she's still chained to the tree!”
“Friday?” Tim barked. “I have to wait another week for you people to decide?” Tim made a move to stand up. “I'm seriously thinking about canceling the contract.”
“Don't cancel the contract,” Dana said to him. “Please, sit. We'll figure this out.”
I took a step back and excused myself while everyone was distracted by Dana and Tim. They were getting nowhere. The way things were going, they could be here until midnight and still be running in circles.
As I left the library, I got to thinking: maybe Emily and Alex were right. This situation was getting out of hand, and clearly politics weren't working. Maybe going straight to the source would be a better idea.
I walked to the end of the parking lot and turned onto Library Street, glancing over at the Ferdinand property. Jeannie was there, by herself, chained to the tree. She smiled and waved. She seemed pleasant enough, but I detected an undercurrent of smugness. It was like she knew how much confusion she'd caused.
I forced a smile and headed home.
Chapter 9
“Girls! So great to see you!”
Jeannie greeted us with more than a little enthusiasm. It was about six o'clock on Wednesday. The sun was just starting to go down. Tim Hayfield had spent the day idling near the construction site and Dana Jones had spent the day staring down Jeannie. A few people had showed up to show their support, but not as many as the day before. Despite the low turnout, there was an undercurrent of unease pervading through Strawberry Shores.
“We brought you a radio,” Emily said cheerfully. “And some batteries, because there's nowhere to plug it in. Here, let me set it up for you.”
“Aww, thanks girls!” Jeannie cooed. “People have been bringing me food and water all day. Those are the people I want to support in my quest to save the tree.”
Emily got the radio set up and turned it on. It was on a country music station. Alex looked at me.
“Did I ever tell you I'm a writer?” I asked cautiously. “What you're doing for the town is so interesting. I was hoping to interview you.”
“Sure, Lena. Good idea, interviewing me. The people around here aren't usually as proactive as I am.”
“It's Laura. So first, tell us about yourself.” I knelt by Jeannie. She hadn't showered in a couple of days and her aroma was unique. “You showed up in Strawberry Shores last week. Where did you come from?”
“I came from—” Jeannie paused and looked at Emily. “Hey, sweetie? Can you switch the station? I know, this kind of music is probably pretty popular with you yokels, but I'd rather listen to something a little more refined.”
Emily's face went red. I couldn't tell if she was embarrassed or angry. “Sure...” She said, turning the radio to a classical station.
“Like I was saying, I came from Washington.” So far so good. “I graduated from the University of Washington with a Master's degree in botany.”
Static filled my head. “Oh?” I said. “A Master's degree? I didn't know they offered Master's degrees in botany. Tell me more about it.”
“Well,” Jeannie said, backpedaling. “Actually, I finished most of my credits. I didn't technically graduate.”
Still static. I didn't say anything; I just kept looking at her.
“Okay,” she said, backpedaling again. “I took a couple of courses. They all covered stuff I already know, though, so I looked over the rest of the degree requirements. And it's all stuff I already know. So I have, you know, an unofficial Master's degree. I just haven't done the coursework.”
The static had abated, but it was still there. I decided to change the subject. “I'm sorry to hear about your father passing away,” I said.
“Oh, thank you, we were quite close,” she said.
More static.
“That's strange,” I said. “I've never seen you around Strawberry Shores. And as far as I know, your father never left.”
“I called him every week,” she said quickly. The static got louder. “Or he called me. We talked a lot.”
Time to change the subject again. “So what's so important about this tree?” I asked. “Childhood memories?”
“Oh yes!” Jeannie exclaimed. “I remember it being here when I was a little girl.”
The static disappeared.
“And it meant a lot to you?”
“Yes, yes.” More static. “I cherished this tree when I was a little girl. I remember when I was about six...”
Jeannie proceeded to tell us stories about how much she loved the tree and the barn, and how they were integral parts of her childhood. I stopped listening early; all I could hear was static. That meant ninety percent of everything Jeannie had told me was a complete lie. It got to be monotonous, so I interrupted her.
“You've also said you're doing this for the people of Strawberry Shores,” I said. “That's pretty generous. Tell us about that.”
“The people of Strawberry Shores—how I love them!”
Jeannie went into another monologue about her generosity and how much she cared a
bout the people of Strawberry Shores. Again I lost interest because again just about everything she said was a lie.
Jeannie was the sort of person that talked and talked, giving me a chance every now and then to mumble an 'mm-hmm' or 'yup' or 'oh really?', but she did most of the speaking. Interrupting her the final time was difficult. Finally, I just said the heck with it.
“Well, I think we have enough for the article,” I said, cutting her off mid-sentence. I looked at my watch and faked a yawn. “I gotta get home. I have to work early tomorrow.”
“Okay girls!” She said as we walked away. “Visit again soon! And next time bring food or water. A radio is great, but I can't very well eat it, you know!”
We ignored her. Sheriff Caldwell eyed us as we passed. He'd spent the day keeping a watch on Jeannie's protest, and now that it was getting late and everyone had gone home, he was getting ready to leave too.
“Nice woman,” I said sarcastically as we passed.
He smiled. I would soon come to regret the remark.
Chapter 10
The next morning there was another crowd in front of the construction site.
“That's strange,” I remarked.
“What's that?” Susan asked.
“Sheriff Caldwell. He's not regulating the traffic. He's down by the barn.”
“Maybe Jeannie gave up the protest?” she asked. Her voice rose slightly at the end. I could tell she was excited; everyone in Strawberry Shores was eager to move on.
We double-timed it down to the site. The area was still blocked off and Tim Hayfield still lingered at the edge of the site, but Sheriff Caldwell was kneeling beside Jeannie, taking her pulse. We arrived just in time to hear him say:
“She's dead. This area is officially a crime scene!”
Miss Tilwell was on the edge of the crowd. I approached her. “Miss Tilwell! What's going on?”
“Jeannie Ferdinand is dead,” she said. “Someone called the Sheriff to report it.”
“How did it happen?”
