a space behind a defunct department store that had succumbed to the mall. The KFAR van had the prime spot in front of the two-story granite courthouse. Jessica was nowhere in sight, but a cameraman was tinkering with his equipment. A substantial crowd had gathered. Finnigan Baybergen and his followers milled about, their signs held high and their voices strident. A few college students in T-shirts and ripped jeans raised clenched fists and chanted slogans that were artfully rhymed but also obscene. The rednecks were not present, which meant they were either working or had lost interest. Two uniformed officers stood on the opposite side of the street.
Several strangers paused to make nonsensical noises at Skyler. Luanne smiled modestly and avoided answering questions. I didn’t know if Sally was there. She took an interest in all matters civic, but she was short enough to be hidden by the crowd. If she approached us, I would come up with a more elaborate lie about the cousin’s arrival and desire for a nap.
A few minutes before noon, Jessica emerged from the van and took her position in front of the camera. She did not smile, but it was clear she was elated to be going “live” with a potentially rowdy audience. With a bit of luck, violence might ensue and her clip would make the national news.
At high noon, so to speak, the front door of the courthouse opened and a man dressed in a somber suit took a position on the steps. He had clipped silver hair and the genial expression of a politician who’d smoked a lot of cigars behind closed doors. He was more than stocky, and his chin was already showing symptoms of wattling, but he was no doubt a formidable presence on the golf course (and in the clubhouse bar). I could easily imagine him issuing an order to raze a hospice or an orphanage to create space for a gourmet coffee shop. We would never be friends. His loss.
Behind him came a bristly man with a briefcase, followed by a woman who looked to be in her early twenties, with flawless ash-blond hair and muted makeup. She wore a floral print ensemble that I assumed was derigueur at country club luncheons and charity style shows. Despite her determined smile, she looked extremely bored with the melodrama of the moment.
Jessica assessed her for a moment, then looked into the camera and said,‘This is Jessica Princeton, live from the steps of the Farberville courthouse. Anthony Armstrong, developer of the controversial Phase Two of Oakland Heights, has called this press conference to tell us his side of the story. Mr. Armstrong?”
“Thank you, Jessica,” he said in a voice as facile as hers. “Before I proceed, let me say I’m a big fan of yours. Adrienne and I make a point of watching you every night. Isn’t that right, honey?” The blond woman obligingly nodded, although she appeared more the type to fret over her nail polish than get mired in local news. I could see that Jessica and Adrienne would never play on the same side of the net at the club tennis tournament.
Armstrong continued. “For those of you who are concerned about Miss Emily Parchester, rest assured that I am equally concerned for her physical well-being. Professor Baybergen provided me with a list of the names of the Farberville Green Party, and a security officer made sure no one else except those listed approached the tree after eleven o’clock last night. I personally spoke to Miss Parchester this morning. She acknowledged that she had not slept well but was looking forward to a cup of tea.”
Finnigan and his followers offered a few catcalls, but subsided when Jessica glowered at them. “So why is it necessary to remove this particular stand of trees, Mr. Armstrong?” she said.
“I have only one acre, the minimum for twenty-four additional units, for which I am required to provide parking spaces. I have spent six months and more than fifty thousand dollars with an engineering firm. I have filed the necessary papers with the city
Several strangers paused to make nonsensical noises at Skyler. Luanne smiled modestly and avoided answering questions. I didn’t know if Sally was there. She took an interest in all matters civic, but she was short enough to be hidden by the crowd. If she approached us, I would come up with a more elaborate lie about the cousin’s arrival and desire for a nap.
A few minutes before noon, Jessica emerged from the van and took her position in front of the camera. She did not smile, but it was clear she was elated to be going “live” with a potentially rowdy audience. With a bit of luck, violence might ensue and her clip would make the national news.
At high noon, so to speak, the front door of the courthouse opened and a man dressed in a somber suit took a position on the steps. He had clipped silver hair and the genial expression of a politician who’d smoked a lot of cigars behind closed doors. He was more than stocky, and his chin was already showing symptoms of wattling, but he was no doubt a formidable presence on the golf course (and in the clubhouse bar). I could easily imagine him issuing an order to raze a hospice or an orphanage to create space for a gourmet coffee shop. We would never be friends. His loss.
Behind him came a bristly man with a briefcase, followed by a woman who looked to be in her early twenties, with flawless ash-blond hair and muted makeup. She wore a floral print ensemble that I assumed was derigueur at country club luncheons and charity style shows. Despite her determined smile, she looked extremely bored with the melodrama of the moment.
Jessica assessed her for a moment, then looked into the camera and said,‘This is Jessica Princeton, live from the steps of the Farberville courthouse. Anthony Armstrong, developer of the controversial Phase Two of Oakland Heights, has called this press conference to tell us his side of the story. Mr. Armstrong?”
“Thank you, Jessica,” he said in a voice as facile as hers. “Before I proceed, let me say I’m a big fan of yours. Adrienne and I make a point of watching you every night. Isn’t that right, honey?” The blond woman obligingly nodded, although she appeared more the type to fret over her nail polish than get mired in local news. I could see that Jessica and Adrienne would never play on the same side of the net at the club tennis tournament.
Armstrong continued. “For those of you who are concerned about Miss Emily Parchester, rest assured that I am equally concerned for her physical well-being. Professor Baybergen provided me with a list of the names of the Farberville Green Party, and a security officer made sure no one else except those listed approached the tree after eleven o’clock last night. I personally spoke to Miss Parchester this morning. She acknowledged that she had not slept well but was looking forward to a cup of tea.”
Finnigan and his followers offered a few catcalls, but subsided when Jessica glowered at them. “So why is it necessary to remove this particular stand of trees, Mr. Armstrong?” she said.
“I have only one acre, the minimum for twenty-four additional units, for which I am required to provide parking spaces. I have spent six months and more than fifty thousand dollars with an engineering firm. I have filed the necessary papers with the city
Similar Books
