Small turned his flashing glasses on Homer. “Of course we’re agricultural.” He waved at the trees springing up through the burdock. “It’s a tree farm. And I’m negotiating with a riding stable to pasture horses.”
“Oh, do horses eat burdock?” said Homer innocently.
Small ignored the question. He turned away and waved an arm. “This is the parcel you were talking about, from here to that line of trees.”
“Ah, yes, with a view of the pond.” Beyond the trees the sky opened up and the rusty towers of the sand-and-gravel company loomed beyond a chain-link fence. Homer went to the fence and looked down into the pit below. At the bottom there was a muddy pond between two huge heaps of gravel.
“Of course this operation is being closed down,” explained Small, hurrying up beside him. Impulsively, as though it had just occurred to him, he said, “I’m going to dam it up. It will be, you know, like a lake.”
Homer had had enough of Frederick Small and his grandiose plans for upmarket real estate. “Well, thank you, Mr. Small,” he said, turning away. “Goodbye. I’ll tell my wife all about it.” Then Homer took his leave, hurrying back along the Pig Road ahead of Small.
As he got into his car the crow rose again from the ugly little cadaver on the rutted drive beside Small’s house, and Homer remembered a story about twelve princes who had been transformed into ravens. Was this crow one of the brothers? Where was its sister, the princess, who was destined to restore it to its princely human form?
It was dark as Homer made the turn onto Route 2 on the way home. High in the sky to the west, he recognized a familiar star. ARCTURUS SPEAKING—INHABITANTS OF EASTERN MASSACHUSETTS ARE KINDLY REQUESTED TO TAKE NOTE.
Homer, to whom celestial objects often addressed remarks, was glad to see Arcturus again. Its appearance in the sky meant that spring was here.
He had been oppressed all afternoon by the tawdry aura of Southtown. In the presence of Arcturus his depression dissipated and blew away.
Chapter 20
When Minnie Peck arrived with the colossal sculpture she called Millennial Woman, Annie was beginning to work on the third division of her wall. It was more wonderful every day, the wall, with its wild juxtapositions and crazy clots of unity.
She had forgotten all about Minnie Peck. But suddenly there she was, rolling up in a Rent-a-Truck. Bouncing out of the front seat, she hailed Flimnap O’Dougherty, who was doing something to a bush. Two heavyset Rent-a-Guys began undoing the ropes securing a large cloth-covered object in the back of the truck.
“Where do you want it?” said one of the guys, getting a grip on one end, looking over his shoulder at Minnie.
“Wait a sec.” Minnie raced back and forth in Annie’s front yard, looking around. “Not here—not here—what about here No, that won’t do. Ah, wait a minute, let’s try it over here. Yes, this looks good. It was destined to be here from the beginning of time.”
It was smack in front of Annie’s new south windows. Flimnap pocketed his clippers, ambled across the grass, and tapped on the glass door.
“No,” said Annie, coming outside, taking in everything—Minnie, the two guys, the giant cloth-covered object sailing forward in their arms, clanking and rattling. “Stop! Minnie, I don’t want it. Take it back.”
“No, wait,” cried Minnie. “You’ve got to see it in place.” She twitched at the cloth wrapping and it fell away.
The metal woman was twelve feet tall. She was entirely made of hubcaps. The concept was good, but the execution was faulty. Millennial Woman was a mess. Her iron armature was a tangle of welded blobs. Her hubcaps dangled on short lengths of rusty wire.
“Please, Minnie, I don’t want anything on the grass. Nothing at all. I’m sorry, but you’ve got to take it away.”
Minnie laughed merrily. “No, no, you just need to get used to it. It has to settle in. You’ll see. Later on we’ll decide on a price, but not now. No obligation, honest.” She scuttled away.
The Rent-a-Guys exchanged looks and glanced at Annie. Her mouth was open, but she was speechless. They shrugged, stumped off after Minnie, helped her into the truck, and disappeared.
Flimnap laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll drag it over there, behind the compost heap. Maybe the woodchucks will appreciate it.” He reached up and grabbed Millennial Woman under her iron arms. “Nothing to it. Come on, girl.”
Annie watched him move backward in the direction of the wilderness, where orange peels and grass clippings were rotting into compost, and piles of pruned-off water sprouts lay in a twiggy mass. She told herself the truth, that the presence of Flimnap O’Dougherty was the overwhelming fact of her life.