Read Online No Ordinary Day by Polly Becks - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Polly Becks
Tags: Fiction
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speaker, a woman from the West Obergrande Elect, the historical society similar to the Daughters of the American Revolution, to take the floor.
“Esteemed Board members,” she began, “when considering the dam and the redesign of the east side, please think of this: as you know, next year Obergrande celebrates its quadri-centennial—its four hundredth birthday. Don’t we all want our town to be prettier, as much as it’s possible to be for its birthday?”
A near riot commenced, with the shouting so loud that Lucy had to cover her ears.
After almost another hour, Bob Lundford leaned closer to the microphone and addressed the long line of people still waiting to speak.
“One more speaker, folks,” he said wearily. “The Board is exhausted, and you are beginning to repeat yourselves.” He looked at the young father at the front of the line who had been waiting almost two hours to speak. “Sir? Please ask something that has not already been a question so far tonight.”
The dark-haired man turned to the people standing immediately behind him, consulted for a moment, nodded, then turned back to the microphone.
“Sergeant Evans,” he said plainly and clearly, “if you were the sole decision-maker, and this was your hometown, which of the solutions to this problem would you choose?”
The young soldier, who had been sitting silently beside his superior officer for most of the evening, blinked.
“That’s not within my purview to say, sir.”
“I know it’s not,” the man said, “but I’m asking your opinion. You’ve made it very clear that the Army Corps of Engineers is not at the moment in charge of the decision, and that you’ve made a range of suggestions to the town. I’m asking you, er, Ace, if it was your decision alone, what would you decide to do in this situation?”
Silence filled the room.
Sergeant Evans turned to his superior officer. Colonel Genovese exhaled, then nodded reluctantly.
Bob Lundford handed the young soldier the microphone.
Sergeant Evans looked around the packed room.
“If it was my hometown, I believe I would opt to build the dam, carefully and conservatively,” he began as a rising tide of booing started to swell. “There are some outstanding architects who have very good ideas about how to minimize—”
His words were drowned as deeply in the audience’s response as the plan would drown East Obergrande.
Bob Lundford banged the gavel louder than he had all evening.
“That’s enough!” he shouted, his voice barely heard over the noise of the crowd.
He turned to the soldiers. “Thank you, gentlemen. Sorry for the rowdiness, and that we didn’t arrange for that open bar—goodness knows, everyone at this table could use a drink. As for the rest of you, go home. We’ve heard all your concerns and suggestions, which we will take into consideration as we move forward in the future. For now, it looks like the ‘nays’ have it. I imagine that we will not be discussing this plan again any time soon. Goodnight.”
His last words had to be shouted to be heard over the grumbling crowd.
Chapter 8
‡
10:45 PM
L ucy made her way numbly out of the hall, pushing carefully between groups of arguing citizens who were stopped in the exit line, many of them still yelling at each other. Her head was throbbing, her stomach was sick, and her eyes were blazing in Irish anger.
It was all she could do to restrain herself from using Glen Daniels’ umbrella as a weapon to clear her way through the crowd.
Once to the door, she hurried out into the rain, lifting the umbrella over her head, and ran as quickly as she could around the edge of Tree Hill Park to the spot where she had left her car.
She opened the door, collapsed the umbrella and tossed it onto the passenger seat, then jumped in and closed the door as she slid the keys into the ignition and turned it.
Only to hear a clicking sound.
Lucy muttered curse words that her Irish cousins would be proud of, and turned
“Esteemed Board members,” she began, “when considering the dam and the redesign of the east side, please think of this: as you know, next year Obergrande celebrates its quadri-centennial—its four hundredth birthday. Don’t we all want our town to be prettier, as much as it’s possible to be for its birthday?”
A near riot commenced, with the shouting so loud that Lucy had to cover her ears.
After almost another hour, Bob Lundford leaned closer to the microphone and addressed the long line of people still waiting to speak.
“One more speaker, folks,” he said wearily. “The Board is exhausted, and you are beginning to repeat yourselves.” He looked at the young father at the front of the line who had been waiting almost two hours to speak. “Sir? Please ask something that has not already been a question so far tonight.”
The dark-haired man turned to the people standing immediately behind him, consulted for a moment, nodded, then turned back to the microphone.
“Sergeant Evans,” he said plainly and clearly, “if you were the sole decision-maker, and this was your hometown, which of the solutions to this problem would you choose?”
The young soldier, who had been sitting silently beside his superior officer for most of the evening, blinked.
“That’s not within my purview to say, sir.”
“I know it’s not,” the man said, “but I’m asking your opinion. You’ve made it very clear that the Army Corps of Engineers is not at the moment in charge of the decision, and that you’ve made a range of suggestions to the town. I’m asking you, er, Ace, if it was your decision alone, what would you decide to do in this situation?”
Silence filled the room.
Sergeant Evans turned to his superior officer. Colonel Genovese exhaled, then nodded reluctantly.
Bob Lundford handed the young soldier the microphone.
Sergeant Evans looked around the packed room.
“If it was my hometown, I believe I would opt to build the dam, carefully and conservatively,” he began as a rising tide of booing started to swell. “There are some outstanding architects who have very good ideas about how to minimize—”
His words were drowned as deeply in the audience’s response as the plan would drown East Obergrande.
Bob Lundford banged the gavel louder than he had all evening.
“That’s enough!” he shouted, his voice barely heard over the noise of the crowd.
He turned to the soldiers. “Thank you, gentlemen. Sorry for the rowdiness, and that we didn’t arrange for that open bar—goodness knows, everyone at this table could use a drink. As for the rest of you, go home. We’ve heard all your concerns and suggestions, which we will take into consideration as we move forward in the future. For now, it looks like the ‘nays’ have it. I imagine that we will not be discussing this plan again any time soon. Goodnight.”
His last words had to be shouted to be heard over the grumbling crowd.
Chapter 8
‡
10:45 PM
L ucy made her way numbly out of the hall, pushing carefully between groups of arguing citizens who were stopped in the exit line, many of them still yelling at each other. Her head was throbbing, her stomach was sick, and her eyes were blazing in Irish anger.
It was all she could do to restrain herself from using Glen Daniels’ umbrella as a weapon to clear her way through the crowd.
Once to the door, she hurried out into the rain, lifting the umbrella over her head, and ran as quickly as she could around the edge of Tree Hill Park to the spot where she had left her car.
She opened the door, collapsed the umbrella and tossed it onto the passenger seat, then jumped in and closed the door as she slid the keys into the ignition and turned it.
Only to hear a clicking sound.
Lucy muttered curse words that her Irish cousins would be proud of, and turned
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