But when I pulled into the parking lot, Martha hopped out of the car almost before it had stopped moving.
“You two go on ahead to the meeting without me,” she said. “I’m going to file a missing persons report at the police station. Time to take action.” She bustled off down Main Street toward the intersection with Sheepville Pike.
Eleanor and I looked at each other for a moment.
“What do you think about this whole state of affairs, E? Do you really think Cyril just took off with Roos and they’re hanging out in some cheap Atlantic City motel?”
Her gray eyes were somber. “Not unless he’s savagely hungover and can’t face the music yet, no. Nothing against Cyril, but I don’t think he’s this brave.”
I had to drive all the way around the nearly full lot before I finally squeezed into a spot. “This place is packed. I guess we should skip dinner and go find a seat inside.”
Eleanor sighed as we got out of the car. I guessed she was as hungry as me.
We walked into the town hall situated at the corner of Porter and Main, across from the glorious Sheepville Library. It was built in the same grand style as the library, with a brick façade and tall Palladian windows.
The town of Sheepville oversaw the zoning and building codes for several smaller towns and villages, including Millbury. In the meeting room that held about a hundred seats, most of them were occupied tonight, with the first few rows filled with township experts like the engineer, fire marshal, and code enforcement officer. The supervisors were ordinary citizens, mostly small business people and volunteers, and they relied on the advice of the paid experts. I was pleased to see a good showing by Millbury residents. The Historical Society had worked hard to get the word out about this meeting.
The court stenographer was setting up before the curved podium that was flanked by the Stars and Stripes on one side and the Commonwealth’s flag on the other. The appearance of the board, probably waiting in the wings with their laptops, would be a well-orchestrated production.
“Eleanor, you go ahead and sit down. I’ll just hang out here in the back.” My rush of claustrophobia and near panic attack at the funeral was still fresh in my mind.
“I’ll stand with you, you crazy old woman.”
I bumped shoulders with her. “Hey, not so much of the old.”
Warren Zeigler, a local lawyer, came up to us, wearing his customary bow tie and round horn-rimmed glasses. He was representing the Historical Society for free, thankfully, because he also had a vested interest. It wasn’t just the society that was against the builder. Many other residents of the village didn’t want the landscape spoiled by a condo development either.
I smiled at him. “So what do you think of our chances tonight, Warren?”
“Yeah, do you think that if Cassell’s bid falls through, the farmer will be willing to make a deal with us?” Eleanor asked.
“One step at a time, ladies. Let’s first state our case at this meeting.” He pushed his glasses up a fraction. “I think that once we educate people to what construction will mean, they’ll see the danger. Not just the negative aesthetic impact on our village, but increased traffic, higher school taxes, and a greater drain on the township resources.”
The Historical Society had been blindsided when the old farmer who owned the land had suddenly signed a conditional agreement of sale with Cassell Builders. Glory Farm had lingered on the market for over two years, partly because of the downturn in the real estate market, and partly because it was priced far too high. We’d been lulled into a false sense of security.
Cassell had preempted us, but undeterred, we’d resolved to drum up enough support within the community to block him. Builders often optioned a piece of land before buying it outright, but if he couldn’t get the zoning approved, he wouldn’t be obligated to go through with the purchase. Our hope was that we could raise enough money with the proceeds from the calendar, combined with funds accumulated over the years, to step up and make our own offer when that happened. It would take everything we had, but it would be worth it.