Clarence, according to the National Weather Service,” he said seriously. “The current small spillway dam, which was built beginning in 1892 and completed in 1907, is expected to be able to hold up to this amount of excess water, as it has for over a century. But, as you know, in the last ten years there have been two floods of the western shore of the river, mostly from swollen or clogged local streams, resulting in damage to the eastern edge of town.”
“Some boat docks and the historic row of planters and flower boxes at the water’s edge were washed away,” said Eleanor Preston, the ninety-two-year-old town historian who, even at her advanced age, was sharp as a tack. “That’s hardly cause for concern. We had ’em back up, and the flower boxes planted, in time for Memorial Day.”
Sergeant Evans fell abruptly silent.
Lucy smiled. She had a special fondness for Eleanor, who always took the time to come and talk in her delightfully craggy voice to the kindergarten students on special historic holidays, usually bringing a basket of homemade treats with her when she did.
“That may be, ma’am,” Sergeant Evans continued respectfully. “But it has been over fifty years since the edge rains of a hurricane have come as far inland as the Adirondack region. We don’t know what that might mean for the increase in the Hudson’s flow this year.”
“If you don’t know, why are you here?” a snide voice demanded from the other side of the standing area, near to the front of the room.
“Stop giving them excuses!” a woman’s voice called from the left edge of the chairs. “You are lending the government’s support to rich people who want to flood East Obergrande!”
“You blind fool, ” another woman’s voice retorted. “Can’t you see you’re rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic ? You East Obergranders are going to go down with the ship sooner or later. We’re trying to help you .”
“Thanks, but we don’t need your help going down with the ship—”
All the hostile conversation was brought to an abrupt halt by the scream of air as a young man in the center of the crowd standing in the back of the room stepped angrily forward and heaved a fist-sized object directly at the young Sergeant’s head.
Chapter 7
‡
S haking with shock, Lucy leapt toward the wall with the other people standing around her, who all fell like dominoes against it and into the town flag.
The Town Board members and the clerk dove beneath the table at the front of the room.
Colonel Genovese put up his arm in front of his head, but otherwise remained seated.
Sergeant Alex Evans’ body remained rigidly still, except for his arm, which shot up and plucked the hurled object out of the air just in front of his face.
His solemn expression did not change, but his voice, when he spoke, contained a note of humor.
“I always wanted to do that when Newcomb played Obergrande in varsity baseball,” he said to the man who had pitched the object at him. “Never got the chance until now. Thank you, sir.”
As security officers pushed through the crowd, the National Guardsman looked down at the object in his hand.
It was an apple.
His expression still did not change as he raised the fruit to his mouth and took a serious bite.
The room, still gasping and recovering, started to fill with laughter.
As the security guards led the man from the room, the soldier continued to consume the fruit, then dropped the core in the trashcan behind the long desk.
“Ooops—” he said as he wiped his hand on a piece of paper on the desk. “There went the evidence. I guess he’ll get off with a reprimand—unless it was poisoned. I’m in a world of hurt if it was, I guess. Oh well.”
He looked back the crowd, which was laughing freely now.
“Folks, there are many lakes and streams throughout the Adirondack Park that are looking at the likelihood of flooding in the years to come, but the Army Corps of Engineers cannot
“Some boat docks and the historic row of planters and flower boxes at the water’s edge were washed away,” said Eleanor Preston, the ninety-two-year-old town historian who, even at her advanced age, was sharp as a tack. “That’s hardly cause for concern. We had ’em back up, and the flower boxes planted, in time for Memorial Day.”
Sergeant Evans fell abruptly silent.
Lucy smiled. She had a special fondness for Eleanor, who always took the time to come and talk in her delightfully craggy voice to the kindergarten students on special historic holidays, usually bringing a basket of homemade treats with her when she did.
“That may be, ma’am,” Sergeant Evans continued respectfully. “But it has been over fifty years since the edge rains of a hurricane have come as far inland as the Adirondack region. We don’t know what that might mean for the increase in the Hudson’s flow this year.”
“If you don’t know, why are you here?” a snide voice demanded from the other side of the standing area, near to the front of the room.
“Stop giving them excuses!” a woman’s voice called from the left edge of the chairs. “You are lending the government’s support to rich people who want to flood East Obergrande!”
“You blind fool, ” another woman’s voice retorted. “Can’t you see you’re rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic ? You East Obergranders are going to go down with the ship sooner or later. We’re trying to help you .”
“Thanks, but we don’t need your help going down with the ship—”
All the hostile conversation was brought to an abrupt halt by the scream of air as a young man in the center of the crowd standing in the back of the room stepped angrily forward and heaved a fist-sized object directly at the young Sergeant’s head.
Chapter 7
‡
S haking with shock, Lucy leapt toward the wall with the other people standing around her, who all fell like dominoes against it and into the town flag.
The Town Board members and the clerk dove beneath the table at the front of the room.
Colonel Genovese put up his arm in front of his head, but otherwise remained seated.
Sergeant Alex Evans’ body remained rigidly still, except for his arm, which shot up and plucked the hurled object out of the air just in front of his face.
His solemn expression did not change, but his voice, when he spoke, contained a note of humor.
“I always wanted to do that when Newcomb played Obergrande in varsity baseball,” he said to the man who had pitched the object at him. “Never got the chance until now. Thank you, sir.”
As security officers pushed through the crowd, the National Guardsman looked down at the object in his hand.
It was an apple.
His expression still did not change as he raised the fruit to his mouth and took a serious bite.
The room, still gasping and recovering, started to fill with laughter.
As the security guards led the man from the room, the soldier continued to consume the fruit, then dropped the core in the trashcan behind the long desk.
“Ooops—” he said as he wiped his hand on a piece of paper on the desk. “There went the evidence. I guess he’ll get off with a reprimand—unless it was poisoned. I’m in a world of hurt if it was, I guess. Oh well.”
He looked back the crowd, which was laughing freely now.
“Folks, there are many lakes and streams throughout the Adirondack Park that are looking at the likelihood of flooding in the years to come, but the Army Corps of Engineers cannot
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