Everyone was shouting now, whether they were a resident or not.
“Goddamn it, Fowler, do something.” Even though I wasn’t a lip reader, it wasn’t hard to decipher the words Cassell growled at our hapless attorney.
Althea Gunn stuck both her pinkie fingers in her mouth and sounded a piercing whistle.
The room fell silent.
The chairwoman took a deep breath and took advantage of the sudden quiet. “Now, please settle down, everyone. The issue here is the zoning change, not the quality of the builder’s construction.”
Cassell glared at her.
“Not that I’m—er—commenting on that, however.” She cleared her throat in confusion.
One of the supervisors leaned forward. “Has a traffic study been done yet, Mr. Cassell?”
Cassell shook his head, his mouth compressed as if he was holding on to his temper with an effort.
“Well, I think we need to learn more about that issue. Also about the additional load on the sewer system. You’re talking two hundred EDUs on land that was only zoned for thirty. I propose we defer a decision for this evening and meet privately with Mr. Fowler and the rest of our consultants to review more of the facts.” He nodded at the chairwoman.
“Ahem. Due to—er—time constraints, we are going to table the discussion on the Glory Farm property. Meeting is adjourned.” She banged her gavel, and a few minutes later, amid some residual grumbling and the shuffling of chairs, the crowd began to disperse.
Angus, Warren, Eleanor, and I gathered again in the back of the room.
Angus ran a hand through his thick snow-white hair. “Whew! Hell of a shindig, eh? Me and the gals didn’t even get a chance to speak. And after the reaction tonight, I can’t imagine the supervisors approving this unless some serious money exchanges hands. If you know what I mean.”
Warren delicately cleared his throat. “I couldn’t possibly comment. But if the rezoning request is denied, Cassell can file a substantive validity challenge.”
“But the longer this whole thing drags out, the better for us, right?” Eleanor said. “Gives us more time to raise the money.”
“Possibly. However, if you fight too hard, the courts will make the decision, and it may not be the one you want,” Warren said. “Sometimes it’s better to compromise a little. More open land preserved to create a larger buffer between the development and the village of Millbury, for instance.”
“He’s going for two hundred units, so they can shoot him down to one-eighty, and he’ll still be happy,” Angus said. “He knows how to play this game.”
Warren nodded. “I’m sure he has a contingency plan up his sleeve.”
“The board will probably reintroduce it when the weather is bad and there’s poor attendance, and it’ll get pushed through,” Angus muttered darkly. “I’ve seen this tactic before, and especially when it comes to a Cassell build. Just need to figure out who the rat is in the woodpile.”
The lack of dinner and the overabundance of hot tempers in the room combined to make my head swim. “I need some air,” I said. “I’ll meet you guys outside.”
I stepped out of the town hall into the parking lot and caught a whiff of cigarette smoke. In deep shadow cast by the eaves of the grand building, Frank Fowler seemed to be in an intense discussion with a stranger, an imposing, rough-hewn man wearing a long, black leather coat.
The stranger towered over the slim lawyer, almost threatening, or at least invading, his personal space.