That night folding chairs had been set up in rows with a center aisle. When Woody introduced Carlton, he appeared from the back corner, out of the shadows, and strutted up the aisle like a banty rooster. He carried his arrogance to the podium, where he adjusted the sleeves of his dark-gray suit, a different one than what he’d worn to the diner the day before. His shirt was bloodred, and his gray-and-white paisley tie had a splash of red.
Feathers, Vicky thought. Any minute now he is going to throw back his head, point that penis nose at the ceiling, and start crowing.
Quite the polished politician, he smiled dramatically out over the crowd. Silence filled the room with only an occasional cough or sigh as everyone waited to hear what he’d say.
There is no way those pearly whites are real. Someone probably knocked the original ones out when he tried to sweet-talk them into buying their property. Vicky hoped they’d scattered all over the street when it happened.
The whole place fell eerily quiet while they waited for him to speak. Then he clapped his hands in front of the microphone three times so fast that it sounded like gunfire. Several folks covered their ears, and two older ladies yelped like they’d been shot.
Nettie gave him an evil look. “You do that again and I’ll make sure you are shovelin’ coal in hell before nightfall. Scarin’ us old people ain’t goin’ to persuade us into lettin’ you have our land and our heritage.”
“Amen, Miz Nettie,” Woody said.
He leaned forward and said into the microphone, “Just like that—you can all be rich. You can retire early, buy a travel trailer, go on that vacation you always dreamed about. I’m gathering investors not only to buy Vicky Rawlins’s property but also the convenience store. I’m interested in the rest of this place, too. It will be a community of beautiful homes and every one of you that sells to me will have the option of buying a new house at a ten percent discount. My company will even take applications to carry the mortgage for you. You don’t get a better deal than that, folks. It’s a win-win situation.”
Vicky felt someone’s presence before she turned her head and saw that handsome cowboy baker, Andy Butler, had sat down beside her. Cowboy baker? What had gotten into her? He’d changed into khaki slacks and a knit shirt with three buttons at the neck. She tried to listen to Carlton going on about the benefits the citizens of Pick would have if they’d only sign away their hearts and souls, but it was useless.
She’d been right. Andy was in cahoots with Carlton. Why else would he be at a Pick town meeting? He wouldn’t have a bit of interest in what went on in their little town.
“He’s a smooth talker. I bet he could sell oceanfront property right here in east Texas,” Andy whispered.
“What are you doin’ here?” she asked.
“Do you know my dad, Wesley Butler?”
“Heard of him. He owns the Butler Ranch north of Palestine, right? Can’t say as I’ve ever met him. What does your father have to do with this community meeting?”
“Carlton Wolfe approached my dad about being an investor, so I came to see what’s going on. I think this is all a show. He’ll run off with the investors’ money as well as the down payments the folks in town give him for new homes. But what do I know? I make cakes and doughnuts for a livin’.” Andy smiled.
“Then if we were to sell our places to him, he would . . .” She paused.
“He’d give you a twenty-page contract full of legal jargon that not even the best lawyers could decipher and you’d never see a dime. But your property would be tied up in court for years while someone tried to sort the whole thing out. I can’t find a thing on him, not where he’s done other deals or anything. Makes you suspicious. I doubt that Carlton Wolfe is even his name.”
“Hey, I got a question for you, Mr. Wolfe.” Vicky interrupted him in the middle of a sentence as she stood. “If we did sell to you—and for the record, I’m not at all interested in selling my property and neither is Nettie—but I was wondering how long is it going to take to see the houses ready to live in?”
“We will have time for questions and answers later, Victoria Rawlins, so take your seat and wait until I have finished talking,” he said.
“My name is Vicky and you want my land, so I want answers. What kind of guarantees do we have that we’d have first chance at the houses you will build? And what’s the price range?”
She enjoyed the fact that she was riling him. Maybe he’d get mad enough to storm out and never come back again.
“Very good questions indeed, and I’m prepared to answer each of them.” His smile didn’t fade, but his jaw worked in anger.