March

March 6, Monday

And there it was, time to start. Randy leaned back to watch.

Joe knocked his gavel and the room got quiet. It was going to be a show, one way or the other.

It was pretty obvious from the big crowd that something was happening, and of course Joe was going to have heard about it, but he wasn’t giving one bit of a hint that he had.

And people were still coming in. Gordon Hite was there, and Lyle with the whole staff from the county offices, and Billy Flockhart, who’d been on the board back in the eighties, and even Tim Grant, who’d been on it in the seventies or so, back when Randy’d been in high school. Not any other board members from before that.

But lots of other people, especially from around Marker, and Randy knew a fair number. The Methodist pastor, and Eileen Bunn, who owned the Imperial Diner, and all Joe’s neighbors.

And of course, Luke Goddard was back in his corner. Someday that plywood patch in the ceiling was going to fall down and hit him right on the head. For now he was writing and writing.

“Come to order,” Joe said, and still not a word that anything might be happening. “Go ahead, Patsy.”

“Mrs. Brown?”

“Here.” She was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Mr. Esterhouse?”

“Here.”

“Eliza?”

“I am here.” Could Louise have even gotten Eliza in on the party?

“Mr. Harris?”

“Here.”

“Mr. McCoy?”

“Right here,” he said.

“Everyone’s present, Joe.”

The door opened and Everett Colony took about two steps in and stopped. There was not a single chair open. He found a place to stand, scowling himself blue in the face.

“Thank you, Patsy,” Joe said. “Jefferson County North Carolina Board of Supervisors is now in session.”

Randy was still putting names to faces while they accepted the minutes. Louise must have used half the phone book inviting people.

Then Joe leaned back in his chair, acting like he was first noticing the packed room, and every eye was on him. “Next is receiving public comment,” he said. “And it looks to me like someone’s been stirring up trouble.” He still seemed to be in an even temper, at least. “And we’ve got agenda items left over from last month. So I’ve half a mind to dispense with comments and move on to business.”

He was probably serious enough to mean it, but not serious enough to stop Louise.

“Oh, no you don’t, Joe,” she said, and she wiggled her finger at him. “I’d like to know what everyone has to say.”

“Suit yourself.” He put his hands together behind his head and leaned back even more. “I’ll be using my prerogative as board chairman to cut off comment if it gets too long or repetitive.” He looked like he meant that, too. “Please state your name and where you live.”

Everybody seemed to be waiting. Everett Colony started to move, but Gordon Hite put his hand on the doctor’s shoulder.

Then the back door opened. A boy walked right in, about eight years old, marching down the aisle like he was the governor, looking straight ahead and not at the seventy or eighty people all staring at him. Randy hadn’t ever seen the child before.

But it was pretty obvious Joe had. In fact he leaned forward and started paying real close attention.

The boy came up to the podium, just barely looking over the top.

“My name is Joseph Clay Anderson Junior and I live at 4218 East Cypress Circle in Tampa, Florida. I have an important matter to bring to the attention of the board this evening.” The child was reciting by memory, a speech written for him, most likely, and his voice was as high pitched as a flute, carrying through the whole room. “Most people probably do not realize the time and effort required to serve as an elected official on a county Board of Supervisors or the importance of having wise and experienced citizens volunteer their time to do so.”

Joe was frozen like a statue, like there was no one else in the room but just him and the speaker.

The boy kept going. “Jefferson County is very fortunate to have a chairman of its Board of Supervisors who has served longer than any other elected official in the state of North Carolina and as of tonight has been on this board for fifty years and has been chairman for forty-two years. He has never asked for or expected anything in return for his service.

“There are many citizens of Jefferson County here tonight who would be able to describe how this community is a much better place because of the leadership and vision of this man, and who admire him for his character and integrity, his hard work and his dedication, and his godliness.

“However, even the members of this board, who know better than anyone else how many outstanding qualities he has, may not realize the most important of all, that their chairman is the best great-grandfather in the world and I love you, Granddaddy Joe.”

And then the boy walked right up in front of Joe and climbed onto the table and put his arms around Joe’s neck.

There was not a dry eye in the place. So after that, with Rose coming in with a whole crowd of family and someone else with a cake, there didn’t seem much chance of business happening. Randy stood back from his chair as everyone came up toward the front. Joe put his great-grandson in his own chair and stood behind it and let people shake his hand, and he didn’t have any real choice but to let it happen. And people were taking pictures and Louise was cutting the cake, and Everett had disappeared. It was truly a night to celebrate.

Then the telephone rang on Patsy’s desk, which Randy could not remember ever happening during a meeting. Nobody knew who was supposed to answer until finally Patsy did.

Her eyes got big and she grabbed Randy’s elbow because he was close by.

“It’s the governor!”

“Say that again?” Randy said.

“It’s Governor Johnson. On the phone. He wants to talk to Joe.”

“Good gravy, get Joe, then. Tell him we’re getting him.” Randy pushed his way over. “Joe, you have a call.”

Joe got to where he could reach the telephone. “Joe Esterhouse,” he said, and everybody got quiet to listen to him. “Well, thank you, Mr. Governor. . . . Yes, sir, to tell the truth it does seem like fifty years. . . . Now, that would be up to the voters, but I don’t think another fifty is too likely. . . . Thank you, I appreciate it.” Then there was a longer pause. Luke Goddard’s camera flashed a picture of Joe on the telephone.

“Now, that’s something I might use,” Joe said. “Let me write that down.” Patsy handed him a pink telephone message slip, and he wrote whatever the governor was telling him. “Thank you again, sir. Thank you for calling.”

Joe put the pink paper in his wallet. Then he looked up at everyone looking at him and frowned a bit. “Well, I don’t think we’re getting much done tonight,” he said, while the room was still quiet, “so I’ll consider the meeting adjourned.” And everyone laughed, and of course it all kept going on.

Sue Ann was bringing him a piece of cake. “Best meeting I can remember,” he said to her. “Nothing done means nothing done wrong.”

March 8, Wednesday

Rose sat down at the table.

“Cold morning to work in the barn,” she said.

It wasn’t particular cold. “I’ll be out to it anyway,” Joe said. “I was going to make a call on the telephone first.”

“I have laundry.” She put coffee in his cup and went out to the hall.

He took the book of telephone numbers and found the one he wanted. Bunch of numbers. Then he took the telephone itself and pushed the buttons, checking the book on each one. Then he waited.

Right away a girl answered. “Thank you for calling the office of Marty Brannin, representing the forty-fifth district in the North Carolina House of Representatives.”

“I’d like to talk to him,” Joe said.

“He’s not available at the moment, sir. I’d be glad to take a message.”

Fool telephone. “Tell him Joe Esterhouse is calling.”

“What number should we call you back at, Mr. Esterhouse?”

“Just go in and tell him. I’ll wait.”

“Well . . . I don’t know if he’s . . . I’ll see if he’s in.”

“Thank you.”

It didn’t take a minute but Marty was talking to him. “Joe. Hi there.”

“Morning.”

“It’s been a while. What can I do for you?”

“I want to ask you about a road.”

“Well, sure. What do you want to know?”

“We applied for a grant back in January. I’d like to know how that’s coming along.”

“January? Now Joe, you know those things take forever. Do you have a project number or anything?”

“I’ll tell Patsy at the courthouse to call your office with that this morning.”

Marty waited a minute to answer. “Joe. When Daddy was vice mayor in Asheville and I was running for state assembly the first time, he gave me a few pieces of advice.”

“I knew your daddy real well, Marty. I expect his advice was worth hearing.”

“It was and it’s sure come in handy. And one thing he told me was to keep an eye on you.”

“Oh, he did, did he?” Joe allowed himself a smile.

“He did. He said if I ever heard from you, I should pay close attention and do as I was told.”

“That’s been twenty years ago.”

“Yes, it was, and you and I have talked fairly often over these twenty years. But I think this is one time that Daddy’s advice might especially apply, at least that I should pay close attention. Because I don’t think you’d call me about a simple road grant unless something wasn’t so simple.”

Marty was a smart boy, just like his father. “I’d be glad to hear that there’s nothing to it, but I’m doubting that’s what you’ll find. I do appreciate your time, Marty. Just when you get around to it.”

“I’ll call you back, Joe.”

Rose was watching him in the doorway, holding her laundry basket. “Decided you can still make a difference,” she said.

“I suppose.”

“Little Joey called you a godly man, in front of all those people.”

“People can think what they want.”

“I think he’s right.”

“Meredith can’t come rafting?” Wade said. First hint of warm weather, and there’d been five walk-ins. Nice to have a busy day, finally, and nice to get home after it.

“She will be working on a class project.” Cornelia looked real comfortable in the recliner. “And Lauren is going to a concert in Charlotte.”

Take off the coat. “So who cares about good old Dad anymore. Just as long as he pays the bills.”

“They are both very sorry. Lauren offered to stay home.”

Hang up the coat. “No.” Toss the briefcase into the computer room. “It’s okay.” Drop into the chair. “I don’t mind.”

“They would love to spend time with you. They are both feeling guilty and despicable. Meredith wanted to talk to you herself, and Lauren was almost crying.”

“Okay, okay!” Women. He was outnumbered three to one in his own family. “If I give them each a new car, would that make them feel better?”

Corny smiled. “Maybe. I’d need one, too.”

“Hey, and what am I supposed to do with this rafting trip? I already paid for it.”

“Can’t you cancel?”

“I’d lose my deposit.” Nothing was ever easy. “For Pete’s sake. You know anybody to go rafting with? Or should I just give the trip to somebody?”

“Well—there must be somebody. Do you have any clients?”

“Not that I’d want to spend a day with.” And then, a strange idea. “Hey, wait. You want to try something different? Randy McCoy. From the board. And his wife, what’s-her-name. Sue. Sue Ellen. Sue Ann.”

“Us? And them? Together? Do you want to?”

“Not hardly. But maybe I could shmooze him into voting for the road. Hey, I’ll think about it. There must be someone we know.”

March 13, Monday

The secretary walked the two steps over to the office door where Roland Coates was sitting plain as day, as short and round and bald and shiny as to make a person think of a bowling ball, and as visible to Randy as Randy was to him.

“Mr. McCoy is here,” she said.

“Come in, Randy,” the man himself said, and Randy did.

It was true that Randy saw Roland Coates once a week at church, where they would say hello and mention the weather, and they lived just two blocks apart. They only had an actual conversation once a year, though, when they negotiated Roland’s insurance contract.

It was not Randy’s favorite annual event. He always worked out the very best offer he could make and then added just a whisker onto it so he’d have something to give up.

Randy felt confident enough to ask him a question as they got started.

“Now, Mr. Coates, what’s this we all hear about you selling the factory?”

Well, that struck a nerve, and he’d known it would as it really was about Jeremy. But the gentleman took the comment in stride.

“I got a good offer. Not as much as it’s worth, but as much as I could expect.”

“When might that happen? I’m only asking so I’d know the term of this year’s insurance contract.”

“Not for a while. There are still a few details to iron out. If there’s time left on the contract, I’ll have you give me a refund.”

With that they settled down to their routine. The furniture factory was really a larger business than those Randy mainly dealt with, although that did not mean any particularly larger profit on the deal, what with the way Mr. Coates didn’t see why he should be putting money into other people’s pockets.

“I’ll just remind you,” Randy said, with the papers arranged on the desk, “that it’s a basic policy, like you tell me you want, and doesn’t have any bells or whistles. It’s a high deductible and it’ll get you back in business if you have a major disaster, but not too much else. And the liability coverage is just what you’re required to have and no more. That’s to get you the lowest premium.”

“The factory never has had use for the policy, not in eighty years. Money down a rat hole, mostly. And the premium is high enough.”

“Mr. Coates, I hope you never have to use the policy. But if you do, you’ll be glad you have it.”

Roland humphed and snorted, but he signed on the dotted line, and Randy was wondering if he’d get enough other business that month to cover what this one would be costing him.

“But tell me about this road.”

That took just a moment for Randy to catch up with. “You’re meaning Gold River Highway?”

“If that’s what they’re calling it. I’m talking about the one that’s coming over the mountain and into Hemlock.”

“Yes, sir, that’s Gold River Highway.” He hadn’t heard Coates’ opinion on the possible effects to the neighborhood.

“When is it being started?”

“Started? You mean, when would they start on the construction?”

“What else would I mean?”

“Now, you don’t need to be concerned as it’s not even certain that they ever will. We don’t have funding for it yet, and even if we did, the Board of Supervisors would still be voting whether to accept it, and there are already a few of the neighbors expressing their opinions against it. And I’d guess the board is leaning just a little bit toward a no vote. So I’m recommending that everyone stay calm and we’ll see what happens.”

Mr. Coates was just staring at him. “They might not build the road?”

“I’d call it far from certain.”

Roland did not look calm. “You’ll be voting on the road?”

“Well, sure. And I’ll be protecting the interests of Mountain View and Wardsville.”

“What are you going to vote?”

“That’s what I was saying. I want to keep that road from barreling right down Hemlock as much as anyone.”

“McCoy, what are you going to vote? Yes or no?”

“Well, no. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

“No? Against the road?”

“Yes. Or I mean, yes, I’ll vote no.”

“Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought. Rip up that paper. I’m not insuring my business with a fool.”

This was going to take a bit of working out. Randy stared for a moment, sort of frozen, and then he got himself breathing again, and then thinking. “Now, Mr. Coates, sir, you’re telling me you want the road built?”

“Of course I am. I’m speaking plain English, and you could learn to do the same.”

“Well, sir, now, so far I’ve only heard opinions to the contrary. But if that’s the case, that you’re favoring the road, and it really only does make sense that you are, that’s an important piece of information. Very important. On the weight of that, I’ll retract my statement and just say that when and if the funding comes through, I’ll make sure I’ve heard from everyone on both sides.”

“Now you’re saying you’ll vote for it?”

Randy took another breath and tried to pick just a few words out of the crowd that came to mind. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Haven’t decided. When will you decide?”

“When it’s time to vote.”

“And when will that be?”

“If we get the funding, which is hardly likely to my mind, then we’ll have the last vote in December.”

Mr. Coates didn’t like that, either, but it didn’t look like he’d be yelling at Randy over it. “I won’t know about the road till December?”

“That’s the schedule, and there isn’t anything that would change it.”

“December. Very well. Go ahead and take that contract before I change my mind again. But you’ll be hearing from me.”

“Yes, sir, that’s why I’m here.”

“Bunch of political foolishness. Give me stroke before it’s over.”

About the last thing Randy was going to suggest was that Roland have a doctor check his blood pressure, as that would be Everett. But on the other hand, that might just be taking care of two birds with one stone, with the two of them each giving the other a stroke.

With that unworthy thought, he left for his walk back home. It was a perfect blustery March day and the wind was tugging on his coat, just like a lot of different thoughts were tugging at his brain. Well, sure Roland would want the road. It would be a help for his trucks in getting out to the interstate. And his house wasn’t right on Hemlock, either, but at the back of the neighborhood, against the mountainside.

“Randy!”

If he hadn’t been quite as distracted, he might have noticed Everett and possibly even turned off Hemlock a block earlier. But there the man was, home for lunch, standing beside his car.

“Howdy there, Everett. Nice breath of spring we’re having.”

“Did I see you coming out of the factory?”

“Well, yes, I was. Just talking insurance with Mr. Coates.”

“What’s he saying about the road?”

Either the doctor was reading minds or the road was the only thing on his own mind. “To tell the truth, I got the impression he’d actually prefer to have it built.”

Everett didn’t seem as surprised as Randy had been. He just calculated a few seconds. “That man is set to ruin this neighborhood. First his trucks, and now this.”

“Now, it might be that the second would fix the first, if you understand what I mean.”

“Has he got you in his pocket, Randy? Is that why you’ve been voting for it all along?”

“No, Everett.” He was finally feeling a little put out by it all. “And I haven’t been voting for it. There’s one vote in December that counts, and when that comes, I’ll do what I think is best.”

Everett was calculating all the more. “Then I’ll have to take care of it myself, and I’ve got until December to do it.” He turned away and marched up his steps and into his front door.

Randy sighed and took up his own stroll home. Maybe he should try to get the two of them together, Everett and Roland, and just see if there was a single thing they might possibly agree on. Well, probably that they both were highly dissatisfied with Randy and his representation of their interests on the board. Now, if they were complete opposites in their views, how could he be making them both mad? It almost defied common sense.

Two birds and one stone still seemed like a good idea. And why in the world had Everett gone and bought himself a gun?

Louise couldn’t help herself. She pulled her car into the spot right next to Byron’s, between the warehouse and the factory, and checked her watch. Just right. Byron would be starting his lunch break.

She trotted around the side of the factory to the door the workers used and peeked in there.

That’s where he was, just sitting down on the bench in front of her. She practically ran with the envelope in her hand.

He looked up. “What are you doing here?”

“Just wait till you see,” she said, and sat beside him, a couple other men moving aside to give her a place. There were big saws and wire benders running out on the floor, and the lathes turning, and piles of wood, and the overhead crane swinging along. She held the envelope under his nose.

He looked a minute at it and then he saw the return address. “Matt?”

“All the way from Baghdad.”

“What’s it say?”

She pulled out the piece of paper. It wasn’t very long but it was written by hand. “ ‘Grandma and Grandpa.’ See? He hasn’t forgotten about us. ‘I’m in the mess hall. We just got back from patrol and we’re taking it easy for a while. I want to tell you I just got my orders that we’ll be coming home around September. I want to come see you as soon as I can. You be looking forward to it, all right? Because I sure am. Matt.’ ”

“September,” Byron said. Then he frowned a little at her. “Now don’t you go crying here in the middle of the factory.”

“I’ll cry wherever I want. He told us to be looking forward to him coming.”

“Still a long time till September. Don’t wear yourself out.”

“You’re just as excited as I am.”

“Sure, but I don’t go caterwauling about it.”

But then the man next to him gave him a nudge and pointed his chin toward the front of the big room. Byron followed his look and frowned again. “Looks like they’re at it again.”

Mr. Coates’ office had a big window out onto the floor and people could see in as well as he could see out. And right there in front of everyone, Mr. Coates and Jeremy were standing, facing each other, and both talking at the same time, with Luke Goddard right beside Jeremy, memorizing every word, by the look of him. No one could hear them through the window or the noise, but a person wouldn’t need to, to see that they were shouting at each other and both as furious as they could be.

While they watched, Luke said something, and the two Coates’ turned on him and started laying into him as hard as they had been at each other, and quick as lightning he escaped, and that left Mr. Coates and Jeremy with just each other to be yelling at.

Louise turned around to where she couldn’t see the window, and Byron turned with her. She held his hand to get rid of the thought of yelling and anger. Just being next to him it made her feel like everything would be all right with Matt, and with the Coates and with anything else that she might think of.

They sat there together while he ate his lunch, even if she should have been getting back to the salon, and Byron took a few minutes extra. Then a couple of men were standing up. There was a loud whine and a saw was starting. The crane thudded and whacked and started lifting a big pallet of lumber.

“Time to go,” Byron said.

“Me too,” Louise said, and gave Byron a little peck on the cheek. The front office was empty.

Randy would have just gone on down to the office, but when he stopped in at the house, Sue Ann was taking a nice big ham out of the oven, and he just couldn’t let that get past without a little taste, and that led to a sandwich, and that led to sitting down at the table and enjoying Sue Ann’s company.

Of course the telephone rang, which a person could count on if they were having a quiet moment, even though it was only Patsy at the courthouse.

“Randy, Luke Goddard is here and he’s looking for you. He says he was at your office and it was locked.”

“Patsy, tell him I locked it because I saw him coming. But I’ll be there in a little while.”

“He says he’s in a hurry.”

“Then tell him I’m not.”

And just to be sure he wasn’t, he gave Sue Ann a hug and a kiss, and walked slowly out to his car and started for downtown.

When he got to Hemlock, he paid the price for not being in a hurry. A line of trucks was headed out from the factory—six big, lumbering elephants—and the first one was just passing in front of him. So he waited for them to get by, one by one, and then he’d be behind them all the way to the office. At least it wasn’t far, as nothing in Wardsville really was.

And when the last truck roared past, going too fast, really, for that street, it must have kicked up a bit of gravel or something on the road. Instead of two birds getting hit by one stone, it was Randy’s windshield.

It was just an instant of time but lots of different impressions. There was a fairly loud crack, a sharp sound like a hammer on a nail, but the first thing he really realized was the glass in front of him suddenly turning white. And it wasn’t white but filled with cracks, and all splitting and popping and splintering and not clear to look through. He saw how the whole right side of the window looked like circles on a pond coming out from a center spot where the rock must have hit, and even for a moment the nice round hole, and then the whole sheet of a thousand pieces collapsed into his lap and onto the seat beside him and onto the floorboards. And even with all that going on, he still had enough of his senses left to barely feel the seat next to him shudder a little.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” he said. “Look at that!”

He was in shock at how sudden it was. One second everything was normal and the next a mess of shattered glass and shattered nerves. “Of all things! Oh, for goodness’ sake!”

The earth was breathing, deeply, ending winter, receiving spring. No leaves had budded, but the thought of them was alive and stirring the trees. Already the ground was awakening, and patient seeds and slow beating hearts were feeling the quickening warmth.

It was time to prepare for her own planting. Eliza had thought of what that would be, how her garden should be. She had her list.

“Here you go, Eliza. And a couple letters.”

“Thank you, Annie Kay.”

A few small bags, mostly seed. The laden shelves here were always a temptation to her. But she had what she needed and she always chose to never take more. And the letters were the kind she didn’t understand, the kind that Zach called junk and had told her she could always throw away.

“And I’ll put it on the account,” Annie Kay said.

“What has that come to?” she asked. The whole winter had passed without a request for payment.

“Just today’s. That’s all there is on it.”

“But surely there would be more.”

“Jeanie’s paid it off. It wasn’t much, anyway.”

“Jeanie?” Oh, that Jeanie!

“A few days ago, what was left. But Eliza, it wasn’t much at all. I almost hate to keep track of it.”

“Did someone ask her to?”

“No, of course not. She worked here all winter—she could look at the accounts anytime.”

“Will she be in soon?”

“No, she’s working with Zach at the outfitters all the time, now that it’s warm enough. But she’s still in once or twice a week.”

“I’ll see her soon. She comes to check on me. But please thank her for me! As soon as you see her again.”

“I will.”

Eliza took her bags and left the store. The sun and the wind both tugged at her coat, but she chose to keep it on, and she began her walk home.

“Somebody shooting at you, Randy?”

“No, Gabe, nothing like that.” He’d driven straight over to Gabe’s garage. “Just some gravel from one of the furniture trucks.”

“Well, I never seen gravel knock out a whole windshield like that. You sure it wasn’t somebody shooting?”

“Why would anybody shoot my windshield? It was just a rock. Now give me the bad news. What’s it going to cost to get a new window in there?”

“I’ll look it up. You got insurance, Randy?”

Gabe thought that was pretty funny, and he was still laughing and looking in his parts books while Randy called Patsy at the courthouse and asked her to run across the street and tell Humphrey King that he’d be a little late for his appointment, and maybe they should just try again later.

“Randy, Luke is still here waiting for you.”

“Good gravy, I forgot. I’m down here at Gabe’s if he wants me.”

And when he did get the bad news, which was worse than it really should have been, Luke Goddard was standing next to the car with his camera.

“Hey, Randy. What happened to you?”

“A big truck and a little pebble, and my windshield was in the wrong place at the wrong time. ”

Luke was still staring at the car. “There might be a picture for the front page here. ‘Insurance Salesman in Car Accident.’ ”

“Not much of an accident, although it still costs plenty.”

“Not much of a picture, either,” Luke said. “Say, Randy, I’ll tell you what I was talking to Patsy about, and why I was looking for you. I’m doing a story about Roland Coates selling the furniture factory. I was up there talking to him, and I was wondering: If someone bought the place and wanted to do anything to it—what would they be able to do? With the zoning and all, I mean.”

“Did he tell you what they’d want to do?”

“Tell me? Roland Coates wouldn’t tell me the time of day. I don’t know why. But I did get to watch a first-rate head-butting between him and Jeremy.”

“I was just up there.”

“I might even have heard your name mentioned,” Luke said, grinning like a jackal. “Although I wasn’t able to witness the entire conversation.”

“Why did you even get to witness any of it?”

“Guess I was just in the right place at the right time. I was there to ask Roland about selling the factory and Jeremy interrupted us. Very interesting.”

With Luke, interesting meant troublesome, and for Randy, troublesome meant not interesting. “But did he tell you anything specific about doing something to the factory?”

“Maybe not exactly. Just Jeremy saying Roland would never get his plan approved, and Roland saying he’d have you approve anything he wanted approved.”

“Me?”

“And then I was suddenly unable to continue listening.”

“Which of them kicked you out?” Randy said.

“There are at least a few things on which the two of them are still able to cooperate. But that was fine, as I was more interested in locating you than remaining with them. So now, that’s my question. If they wanted to do anything to that place, what would they be able to do?”

“It depends on what kind of anything you mean.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Luke said. “Say Roland wanted to tear it down and build a grocery store.”

“Tear it down? You don’t mean they really are closing the factory?”

Luke was shaking his head. “No, no, I’m just making up examples. What could someone do with that land the way it’s zoned?”

“Well.” That thought had been so unexpected that Randy had to get over his sudden panic, and he wasn’t going to all the way, with that new idea in his head. “About anything would need some special use permit. The furniture factory was there a long time before the county got around to zoning, so they just gave it a special use permit for light industrial, and I don’t think much of anything can be changed.”

“What’s ‘light’?”

“I don’t know. Light. Not that it’s very likely we’d get any heavy industry around here. There might be a list back at the courthouse. Where are you getting these ideas, anyway? Are you sure you’re just making that up?”

“I’m just stirring you up, Randy. Wouldn’t Humphrey King have a fit if someone wanted to build some new grocery right up from King Food?”

“Well, he would. Don’t you go give him a stroke.”

“There’d be lots of strokes. It’d be good business for Everett Colony. But not for you and your insurance. Anyway, I’m just asking. And don’t you give it a second thought.”

March 14, Tuesday

“Well, Lyle!” Louise was stopping in at the courthouse. “How are you doing?”

The poor man spun around and almost tipped his chair right over. “Oh. Hello, Louise.”

“I was just going to say hello to Patsy.”

“Patsy isn’t here.” Lyle started hunting through Patsy’s desk, and he looked more likely to knock anything off of it as to find anything on it.

“That’s all right. I can come by tomorrow.”

“She has the papers for next month’s meeting. I saw her copying them.” The hunt continued, and Patsy’s telephone hit the floor, and Lyle almost hit the ceiling.

“That’s really just all right,” Louise said, but Lyle looked up with a big smile.

“Here they are!” Five folded sets of paper. He grabbed the top one and held it out.

She almost had her fingers on it when it got yanked back.

“There’s envelopes they’re supposed to be in,” Lyle said, and knocked those on the floor next to the telephone. He picked them up and found the envelope with Louise’s name, and put the papers in it.

Louise carefully took it out of his hand before anything else happened.

“Thank you, Lyle. That’s a big help.”

Lyle was putting the other papers into the other envelopes. “We try to do our best.”

Louise got herself out of the courthouse and then she had to take a breath. Lyle’s flustering was contagious! Then she took her papers out of the envelope, and there on the first page was written in big letters, For Joe Esterhouse. It was just Lyle doing his best.

The papers were all the same, so it wouldn’t matter that everyone got each other’s. And she wasn’t about to go back in there and try to straighten it out.

March 16, Thursday

“You have a letter,” Annie Kay said. Eliza took it carefully from her. It was weighty, both in her hand and in her mind.

“This is from the council,” she said. “It’s for our next meeting.”

She opened the envelope with reluctance. She didn’t like these papers and their hardness, but it was the council’s tradition to send them. The first paper had written on it, For Randy McCoy.

“I don’t know what that means,” she said. There was always something new and strange. Then another paper fell out from among the others.

“Very strange.”

In large printed letters it said,

The windshield was your warning
No road
OR ELSE

“What does that mean?” Annie Kay asked.

“There is so much that I don’t understand,” Eliza said.

Nice clear night. Lot of stars for once, and that was good. There’d be no rain for a few days. The fields needed to dry some and not wash out. Roads were already worse than usual.

“Joe? It’s the telephone for you.” Rose was in the kitchen door. “It’s Marty Brannin.”

No moon. The stars alone were bright enough to see Mount Ayawisgi up northeast.

“I’ll be right there.”

Just barely see the one gap where Gold River Highway would go through. The mountain had been there a long time without being bothered. Now that was likely over.

“This is Joe,” he said.

“Marty Brannin.”

“Evening, Marty.”

“You, too. I hope it’s not too late to call.”

“It’s not.”

“It’s about your road, of course, and I’ll keep it short. I’m not to the bottom of it yet, Joe. But I can tell you what I know. The appropriation was down in the fine print of the Clean Air Act we passed last summer. I voted for it, and I sure didn’t notice this one paragraph.”

“Is that an usual place to put a road?”

“It is not usual.”

“I suppose you can find out how it got there?”

“I’m going to. It can be tricky, but I know how this game is played. I’ve played it myself.”

“Then I’ll be curious to know what you find.”

“I’ll let you know. It might be a while. The legislature’s in session and everyone’s busy.”

“Don’t put yourself out. Just when you get to it.”

“Well, I’m curious now, too. There’s definitely something going on here. And besides, somebody’s pulled a trick that I’ve never seen before, and that’s saying a lot. It would be worth figuring out how it was done.” Marty laughed. “I might be able to use the same stunt if I ever want a road built myself. Talk to you later, Joe.”

Then back out again under the stars. Cold, black night. Same as what was inside some men.

Every word said about this road made his own insides feel black and cold. Of all the words said, not a one gave him rest from thinking about Mort dying when he did.

“Was he a help?” Rose asked, beside him in the cold.

“Just making it worse.”

“What would have happened if Mort Walker had died earlier?”

“Just a few days earlier and someone else would have had time to put their name out for write-in votes. A few days later and the election would have been over and the board would have filled the empty seat. But just that day, and with Eliza Gulotsky running, was the one sure time to swing a vote to be against the road.”

What was it about a road? They were plain things, for getting from one place to another. It came down to where people were, and where they wanted to go, and how bad they wanted to get there. And what they’d do if something was in their way.

“Would anyone want that bad to stop it?”

Was there evil in the world, and wickedness? “I’d say it could be.” A road wasn’t evil itself, but it pulled evil in. Greed on the one side, in the men who wanted it. Hatred and fear on the other.

“I can’t think of anyone else besides Randy,” Wade said.

“Then call him.” Somehow Cornelia had gotten to liking the idea.

“Yeah.” He still didn’t want to. But there was no one else. “Okay.” Or they could just go by themselves and not use the other two tickets.

He picked up the phone and pushed buttons.

“This is Randy McCoy.”

Oh well. “Randy, Wade Harris.”

“Wade, how are you doing? This is an unexpected pleasure.”

Right. Unexpected, at least.

“Yeah. Hey, Randy, wonder if you could help me out.”

“Help you? Well, sure, if I can. What can I do for you?”

“Have you ever been rafting?”

Long pause. Wade could almost hear the gears trying to shift. “Rafting? I’m not sure I quite follow you.”

“Whitewater rafting. You ever noticed those outfitters on every road in the county? They’ve got big signs that say Whitewater Rafting on them.”

“Well, of course I’ve seen them. I just wasn’t sure what you meant.”

Okay, don’t be mean. Take a breath. “I was wondering if you’d ever taken one of their trips.”

“I can’t say I have. Those establishments are usually more for tourists, aren’t they?”

Got to love the way his brain worked. “I think once in a while they make an exception. Anyway. I’ve got four tickets for a week from Monday, and I need two people to use them with Corny and me.”

“Well, now, I can think on that, Wade, but to tell the truth nobody comes to mind right away. I could ask a few people.”

“I meant you, Randy. And your wife. Do you want to go rafting?” This was getting priceless. He should write a book and make Randy the main character, except no one would ever believe a man could be this dense.

“Sue Ann and I? Well, Wade, I don’t know what to say. I’d never thought of such a thing, actually, and I don’t know what to say, and that’s for certain. I don’t believe it had ever even occurred to me. We’ve never done any of those tourist type things.”

“I won’t tell them you’re from around here. If you’re with me, maybe they won’t notice.”

“Goodness sakes. Let me talk this over with Sue Ann. Wade, thank you for thinking of me here. I sure do appreciate it. It’ll take some thought.”

Wade took another deep breath. This is how it would feel to get stuck in quicksand. “You think about it and let me know.”

March 17, Friday

Fool business, complete fool business. Here he was at the police building and he still wasn’t turning around. But he couldn’t. He got out of the truck and went in the front door.

“Go on back,” the girl said. Gordon’s door was open.

“Well, Joe,” he said. “Morning! What’re you doing in town?”

“Passing through.” No reason to waste time. “I’ve got Mort Walker on my mind.”

“Mort Walker? What’s brought him up?”

“It was Minnie that found him, and you went when she called.”

Hite was flustered. Joe waited for him to get his thoughts caught up. “Well, sure, that’s how it was. You’re talking about when he died?”

“And then the doctor came.”

“Everett Colony. He got there a couple minutes after I did. Now I remember. I was in the house with Minnie when he came, and she was carrying on, before I’d even been out to the barn to see for myself, and Everett took a quick look at Mort and then he came and sat with Minnie while I called Roger Gallaudet at the funeral home.”

“You saw him, though?”

“Mort? Sure, I went out. But nothing for me to do.”

“And Dr. Colony said it was a heart attack?”

“Well, he was Mort’s doctor. So I guess he already knew what it was going to be. Joe, what’s on your mind?”

“A bunch of fool things. He was a friend. I want to know what happened to him that day.”

“Well, sure. There wasn’t much to it, to be honest. He was pitching hay down from the loft to his cows and his heart just gave out. Banged his head when he fell. Might have been that as much as his heart.”

Nothing had been said about that. “Hit his head?”

“Up there in the loft and falling into the stalls, sure he’d hit something. He’d have to.”

Or something hit him.

“I suppose he would.”

“Louise, I hope you aren’t busy.” Louise wasn’t. And if she had been, she’d still have fit Grace Gallaudet in somehow.

“What is it, Grace?”

“I’m having my picture taken,” Grace said. “They’re doing a newspaper article on me.”

“Now, what’s that about?” She had Grace sit down, and she was already looking at what had to be done.

“For Founders’ Day.”

“Now, that will be interesting to read about. Is Luke writing it?”

“I’m letting him use my Grandfather Ward’s letters.”

“I can’t wait to read it,” Louise said. “Will it be the whole story?”

“That’s what I told him he should do, from Haggai Ward on through the whole family. At least to my great-grandfather.”

“It’ll be nice to have it all written out. Nobody’s family has more history than yours, Grace. Of course, the Fiddlers have been here a long time, too, and others. The Fowlers, for instance, and even the Goddards.”

“Well, the Fiddlers, yes,” Grace said, and not gracefully. “But those others didn’t leave anything to show. The Wards and the Fiddlers built this town.”

March 27, Monday

Well, here they were. He and Sue Ann standing beside the Gold River, looking at that water pouring by, looking at the little rubber boats, feeling like Noah must have.

It was a crowd, with Wade and Cornelia, and the two of them, and a dozen tourists from Greensboro and Charlotte and other distant points. Randy was feeling real out of place, and it didn’t help a bit that they were all of them jammed into rubber suits and looking like astronauts. Maybe some of the tourists were a bit heavy and didn’t cut much better figures than he did, but Wade looked trim and fit, and his wife Cornelia had a movie star kind of figure. He and Sue Ann didn’t hold too well in comparison.

“You’re sure you’ve never done this before?” Wade asked.

“I’d remember if I had,” Randy said.

“Then come on in.”

There were three rubber boats for the group of them. The guides divided them up, and Randy found himself and Sue Ann in the back seats out on a little practice pond with Wade and Cornelia in front of them, and then a tourist couple from Greensboro in front, and up in the point of the boat a cute little button of a girl bellowing at them like a drill sergeant.

“Right!”

Now, that meant Randy pulled forward on his paddle, as he was on the right, and Sue Ann pushed back on hers, as she was on the left.

“Whoa, stop! Okay, back there, let me explain it again!”

She did, making it all completely clear, and they tried again. “Right!”

Now, that meant Randy pushed back on his paddle, as he was on the right, and Sue Ann pulled forward on hers, as she was on the left. The boat turned right much better than it had the last time.

“Forward!”

The girl’s name was Jeanie and she really was very nice, just a slight bit forceful. She might possibly remind a person of Everett Colony. And of course she had to be that way as captain of the ship, so to speak. She didn’t try to remember the names of the crew, as she was mainly used to calling them out by their positions.

“Back right, pull it!”

He pulled it, just as hard as he could.

Randy could have used even a bit more practice, but Jeanie seemed satisfied after a while and she started going over a few more fine points.

“The water’s high, so a lot of the rocks are submerged. I know most of them anyway. You’ll need to act fast when I call a direction and pull hard. The water’s fast. We just have to be faster.”

“If we hit a rock, it can swing the boat around facing backward. If we can turn back around, I’ll call a hard right, but we might just need to stay backward till we get somewhere calm.” Randy listened while she described situations that were each worse than the one before, and what to do if they got into them. “If the boat gets turned over in some rapids, the first thing is to get out from under it.”

Randy expected that would be some fairly vigorous rapids they’d be wallowing around in, while trying to get a boat off their heads. “If you’re in the water, get a good breath every time your head’s in the air,” Jeanie said, and Randy added breathing to his list of things to remember.

Now she was talking about hydraulics, which Randy had usually associated with the brakes of his car, but this wasn’t the same.

“You can’t fight them. If you get in one, don’t try. It’ll suck you down, but eventually you’ll be out of it. Just wait till you’re out of the grip and then get to the surface. And the most important thing to remember is to not panic.”

If that was the most important rule, then Randy was already on the verge of breaking it. Even with all the instructions and knowing what to do, he was not feeling completely reassured.

“I’m just wondering,” he said, “how likely that is, that a person might fall out of the boat?”

“It doesn’t happen often,” Jeanie said. “As long as everybody does exactly what they’re supposed to when I call a direction.”

Randy was guessing that he looked about as white as Sue Ann.

The lead guide was a wiry young man named Zach, and it must have been his company, as it was called Zach Attack Whitewater.

“Let’s get going,” he said to the whole company, and going they got, carrying the boat like Lewis and Clark right over to the Gold River and then getting in it, leaving the nice solid ground behind.

“Forward!”

They paddled about two strokes and then the river had hold of them, and it was moving them a good deal more vigorously than they could have themselves, or was really even necessary. And if Randy was hoping for a nice easing in, he didn’t quite get that, because right away there was a sort of a drop and a push sideways at the same time and Jeanie hollering, “Right! Forward! Right! Left, hard! PULL IT LEFT!”

About that time Randy finally worked out that he should just do whatever Cornelia was doing in front of him, and that made him feel confident enough that he even leaned over to Sue Ann and said, “I think I’m getting it.” And she nodded, but she had her eyes glued onto Wade’s paddle ahead of her.

After that first place the water settled down, and they both could catch their breath.

“Good job! Good start! Two more short falls after the next turn, then we’ll have a smooth section before we start the real stuff!”

That had seemed very real, but when Randy looked back, it was a shock how little the one fall they’d already done actually looked.

Wade leaned back. “What do you think?”

“I haven’t had a chance to yet,” Randy answered.

“Forward!”

Wade gave him a nice encouraging smile, and then they were off paddling right at a drop that really looked to be better off avoided.

Good day, so far, with the water high and fast. Wade leaned back against a rock and chewed his ham sandwich. He’d been afraid the whole thing would be a bust.

Randy’s face in the last rapids had been worth the price of four tickets all by itself.

“Tell me about this furniture plant,” Wade said. Randy looked like he needed something to take his mind off moving water.

“Oh, well, the factory.” That looked about as upsetting to him. “I don’t even know what to make of that.”

“So this is a big deal, right? Getting bought out?”

“I’d say so, and most everyone would agree. A hundred fifty people working there, and that makes it the biggest employer in the county, except for the schools.”

“But it’s not closing,” Wade said.

“Maybe it isn’t, and I wouldn’t have thought so, but now I’ve heard that they might even just tear it down and build a grocery store.”

Suddenly this was real interesting. “A grocery store?”

“That’s just a rumor, and I’ve only heard it one place so far.”

“Could someone build a grocery back there?”

“Not by the zoning. But we could always change that.”

“It’s not a good place.” Wade was figuring. “It wouldn’t make any sense to put it back there. Uh—not unless the road went through. I was hoping that the Trinkle farm would get developed sometime, but it sounds like that won’t be for years.”

“If it depends on the Trinkles, it won’t be for years.”

“They’re as bad as I’ve heard?”

“You should see the stack of lawsuit letters the county has gotten. It might be the only way the title will ever get clear is if the county condemns it to auction for back taxes.”

“The taxes aren’t paid?”

“Not in years. But lawyers cost so much, there’s hardly anything left for the county if we do take legal action, and it just seems so harsh, so we don’t usually get around to it.”

“Is it that they just can’t agree on selling it?”

“More than that. Hermann Trinkle didn’t leave a will, so that makes it muddier. And even before that—the Trinkles came over with the other Austrian families after the Civil War, and some of them got their land legal and some didn’t, what with courthouses burned and landowners missing and occupation troops and carpetbagger judges. So there’s not much record of who owned that land before, and if the current Trinkles are any indication, the early Trinkles wouldn’t have cared anyway.”

Wade laughed. “Then it’s a mess. If there won’t be any stores in Gold Valley, we need the road, and a new store right there in Mountain View.”

“Everett and them would tar and feather me,” Randy sent a mournful glance down at himself. “Not that I’d look much worse than I do now.”

The guy had a streak of humor. “You’re doing fine, Randy. Whatever anyone says.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time one of my constituents suggests otherwise, which they often do.”

“That’s what constituents do. It’s their job.”

“So what’s our job, Wade?”

“Ignore them. Hey, so why’s Coates selling the factory, anyway?”

“Now, for one thing, it hasn’t happened yet, so there might still be some negotiating to do. But for why, most people could tell you. It’s about Jeremy.”

Jeremy Coates. Of course. The walk-in last month. “That’s the son?”

“That’s Roland’s son. All in line to take over, just like Roland did from his father. But Jeremy wanted to go ahead and make his own changes without waiting, and Roland just didn’t see it, and they quarreled. Roland’s dad died young, so Roland didn’t have that chance to get impatient waiting to take over, and I suppose he just doesn’t understand the situation from Jeremy’s side. So I think Roland’s sort of decided that Jeremy doesn’t want the business anymore, and now Roland himself’s just wanting to be done with it.”

“Right. I’ve met him.”

“Roland? Or Jeremy?”

“Jeremy. He was up at the sales office a few weeks ago.”

“Looking to buy something, you mean?” Randy asked.

“I don’t think so. He said he was curious about Gold Valley, and then he told me how much he hated Gold River Highway.”

The sun was shining and it was warm and pleasant beside the river. Sound of rapids in the distance. He could make himself take a nap.

“Let me ask you a question,” Wade said. “No politics. Do you really think Gold River Highway will mess up Wardsville that much?”

“It’d change a lot of things, and that’s not usually good, from all that I’ve ever seen. Now take Mountain View, for example. You’ve been through it, haven’t you? You’d have to admit there’s going to be more traffic. So either they widen Hemlock and tear up everything on it, or else they don’t and it stays a little two-lane road with that many more cars. You see my point, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. But do you see what it’d do for Gold Valley? And from where I come from, change and growth are good. And Wards-ville would get a lot of new development, too.”

“I can see that, Wade, from your point of view. But now, I’m looking down this river right now, and at all its trouble and confusion you’ve talked me into going through. And it’s maybe like this road. You’re looking forward to it, and I’m not particularly, maybe like the way we each live our lives, where I like to stay away from problems and you seem to run right at them. Well, maybe one of us is right and one isn’t about this road, or about how we live our lives, or maybe there isn’t a right, anyway, and all we can do is just each of us try to take care of ourselves. I guess you’d say we were each on our own road.”

“Roads are supposed to go somewhere.”

“I wonder if many people know where they’re going,” Randy said.

If there was an answer to that, it wasn’t obvious. At least Wade didn’t feel like looking for it, except that it was the first conversation with Randy that had ever made sense.

“Are you ready for dinner?” Rose asked.

“Still some patching on the toolshed.” Winter was hard on the older buildings. “Take maybe an hour.”

“It’s the roast from Sunday. It’ll keep till you’re ready for it.”

It was a long day and Joe was about ready to be done. “Might just leave the rest for tomorrow.” Then the telephone rang.

“It’s Marty Brannin,” Rose said. “He says he calling from Raleigh.”

It wasn’t a welcome call, not at the end of the day and before he’d eaten his supper. And as much as he could hope for it, he doubted it would in any way set his mind at rest.

“This is Joe Esterhouse.”

“Hi there, Joe. I’m finally getting back to you again.”

“Good of you to do that.”

“It’s been a busy few weeks. But I just heard from my spy in the Department of Transportation. Joe, looks like you’ve got yourself a new road.”

That was that. “Is that so.”

“Yes. Sixty-seven counties applied and you got it. The whole thing. Twenty-five million dollars for a beautiful new highway right over the mountain.”

“That’s real interesting.”

“And you don’t sound surprised.”

“I guess I’m not,” Joe said.

“You know, I’m not, either. Listen to this: Every other application was disqualified. Your project was the only one that met all the requirements.”

“I’d have been surprised if there was another project in the state that did.”

“Right. Exactly. Clever way to get a specific road funded without anyone knowing it. Anyway, don’t you tell anybody, since it’s not announced. You’ll get your letter, and then you have to wait till your official board meeting.”

“I’m not in a hurry.”

“Good. And there won’t be an announcement in Raleigh. That’s another quirk. The counties that win will make the announcements, and that’s it.”

“Not too many big city reporters at the Jefferson County board meetings.”

“Oh really?” Marty laughed. “I’d never have guessed that. Well, I think I’ll have a chance to get back to my detective work next week and find out where this road comes from. Talk to you later, Joe.”

“Thanks for your call, Marty.”

Rose had the table set for the two of them. She sat down beside him.

“That’s proof,” he said. Jefferson County had got the road over every other county in the state.

“I’m sorry, Joe.”

“So am I.” He was. It was just as black evil as it could be, and now there was no use hoping it wasn’t.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” There was no good thing to do. “Marty’ll find out who’s behind the road, and that’s where there’s evil. Then I need to find who’s against them, and there’s evil there, too. Then I’ll know what happened to Mort.”

“There are a lot of people on both sides.”

“Just fighting on either side’s not evil by itself. Or the road. It might or might not make sense, but it isn’t evil in itself. But there is evil.”

“There always will be, Joe. But there’s good, too.”

“Seems harder to find. I’ll wait for Marty to call again.”