Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
By the time Lizzie arrived home from work at around 5:30, Gabby had dinner waiting on the kitchen counter, and was geared up and ready to go.
“I cheated and got us some wraps from Bradford’s,” Gabby says, almost apologetically.
“Mom, I don’t expect you to provide me with food, I’m an adult, stop being hard on yourself.” She puts her things down, “That said, these do look delicious.” Lizzie chooses one that appears to be hummus with lots of veggies, and she picks up a handful of carrot sticks as well and puts them on her plate. “Thank you so much for doing this, I probably would have just had some cereal or something.” She sits down on one of the stools and starts to eat. “Are you going to join me?” she asks her mom.
“I had one already, but I will nibble on some cucumber and carrot sticks with you,” she says, pulling out a chair and sitting down. “So how are you doing?” Gabby asks as she picks up a carrot stick and takes a bite.
Lizzie finishes chewing, swallows, and shakes her head. “Honestly? Between you and me? I’m really nervous. We’ve seen what these naysayers are like, they might not be in the majority, but they are loud and command attention. I’m just worried about anyone on the fence, or anyone easily swayed by lies -you know they’re going to try to scare the bejeezus out of the much older folks, tell them life as they know it will end, their taxes are going to go through the roof and they won’t be allowed to go to church anymore.”
“Ugh, I know. The level of disinformation is staggering,” Gabby says. She gets up, I’m going to make some tea to bring, you want me to make you a travel mug too?”
“Sure, thank you. Though depending on how this meeting goes I might prefer there to be some wine in that mug,” Lizzie says, finishing up her sandwich. She takes her plate and puts it in the dishwasher.
Gabby’s phone dings and she picks it up. “Huh, it’s your dad, he says he’s running over to the meeting, apparently there are people out front with signs protesting already.”
“Oh dear lord, I’ll bet my last dollar that it’s being led by Billy and Bud,” Lizzie says, shaking her head. “I should get over there too.” She stops in her tracks, “Should I call Jack and tell him? He’s so nervous already, I hate to stress him out more.”
Gabby finishes her text to Peter, then looks up. “Honestly? I think it’s better if he’s prepared rather than blindsided when he pulls up.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Lizzie says, putting on her coat. She’s shaking her head and looking at her mom. “What is wrong with these people? Why can’t they see that this is all for the good of Cranberry Harbor, the high school renovation is not going to raise taxes more than ten dollars a year per resident, and Jack’s project is all being funded by grants, angel donors and federal money earmarked for environmental projects. It’s a total win/win!”
Gabby walks over and hugs her. “There are more of us than there are of them. Billy and Bud may be loud, but their following is limited, and I do believe we will prevail.”
Lizzie picks up her keys, her phone and her purse. “From your lips, Mom,” she turns to go. “Sorry to eat and run, thank you so much for the sandwich. Oh, should I bring one to Dad?”
“You get going, I’ll wrap one up and bring it. I’m going to head out as soon as I take Daisy for a quick walk, you get going.”
“Okay, thanks Mom, I don’t know what I’d do without your calm presence,” Lizzie says. As she gets in her car she takes a deep breath, holds it for a couple of seconds, and lets it out. She does it a second time, just like her mom taught her. She feels calmer. She puts in her earbuds and calls Jack. He picks up on the first ring.
“You’re calling about the protesters, right?” he says, not even saying hello.
“So you heard,” she says, pulling out onto the street. “I don’t have details, are there many of them? I’m on my way over now.”
“Yeah, me too,” Jack says. “I don’t know how many there are, but it’s worrying me. I just have to remind myself to stay calm, because the last thing that will help is me losing my temper and yelling at these people.” He’s quiet for a moment and Lizzie knows him well enough to give him a minute. “Because there’s nothing that upsets me more than misinformation. If you think the project isn’t good for some logical reason, fine! Don’t vote for it! But if it’s because of some lie designed to just scare you that makes me furious.”
“I agree completely,” Lizzie says, pulling into the school parking lot. “And those two have been spreading all sorts of disinformation about taxes, about how Terra Marique will cause more pollution not less, and how my dad and I are being paid to write positive stories about the project.”
“Really? They said that? Arrggghh, I just want to deck that guy,” he says. This is precisely why Lizzie hasn’t mentioned it before. “I’m pulling in to your left.”
They hang up and each get out of their cars.
“I can take care of myself, don’t get into it with the town bully, especially since that’s exactly what he wants,” Lizzie says, hugging him. “While I appreciate the instinct to protect me, I’ve got this, okay?”
They start walking toward the building. “I know, I know, he just infuriates me,” he says.
“You and half the town, more than half,” Lizzie agrees.
As they get closer they can hear a few muffled voices chanting, as they keep walking it becomes clear, Save Our Town! Save Our School! Vote No and Save Your Tax Bill Too!
“Uh, none of what they’re saying makes sense,” Jack says, as they walk around the ten or so protesters.
“I know, I know,” says Lizzie, hoping they can sneak by unnoticed. As soon as she thinks that someone spots them.
“It’s all their fault!” Bud Mackelroy shouts. “You washashores just go home!”
Lizzie starts laughing. “Bud, I was born here, and you know that, and so was he,” she says pointing at Jack. “I know you like making stuff up, but everyone here knows you’re the real washashore, you moved here in high school.”
“What happened to not engaging them,” Jack says under his breath, leading Lizzie away.
“Ugh, I know! They just make me so mad! At least be accurate!” she says to them, turning around and getting one last dig in.
“Save it for the meeting, we’re probably going to need to push back a little bit, or a lot, depending on the veracity of their presence,” he says, opening the door to the school. “We need to be on our game and not let them throw us off.”
“Yes sir,” she gives a little salute, “I am here to be a team player, I will save my passion for when we need it.”
Jack finds a seat in the gym and puts his coat on the back. It’s filling up quickly, which he hopes is a good sign. “This good for you?” he asks.
“Hmm, do you think it’s a good idea for us to sit together? It might make our case for the Gazette being neutral a little suspect, don’t you think?”
“Good point, we can wave to each other,” he says, smiling nervously at her.
“Yeah, I think I should sit with my dad and Stan,” she says. “I should go find my dad and check-in.” She leans over and hugs Jack. “I’m with you in spirit, okay? Your parents will be here soon, right?”
“Yes, they will,” he says. “Let’s hope we are heading to Murphy’s in a couple of hours to celebrate, okay?” Jack says.
“Yes! Here’s to clinking glasses over our success, fingers crossed!” Lizzie says, turning to go find her dad. “We can text too, if you’re getting stressed!” Jack gives her a thumb’s up and sits down.
“There you are,” she says to her dad who has saved her and the family seats. “You hear anything from anyone about how it’s looking?”
Peter shrugs his shoulders, “I think it’s looking good for both projects, but Billy and Bud are doing their level best to sidetrack people and make them think this is too good to be true, that somehow they’re being lied to.”
“About what? That their taxes aren’t going to go up much at all? That this building isn’t over 50 years old and in dire need of repairs? That we’re losing people in droves because they can’t afford to live here?” Lizzie feels her pulse quicken and takes another deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I’ve got to stay calm, getting upset isn’t going to help anyone.” She sits down, takes off her jacket and puts it on her lap.
Peter joins her, and then sees Gabby, Shannon and Matt crossing the gymnasium. He stands up and waves them over, “I’ve saved seats for all of you,” he says, gesturing to the three seats with various items, pens, notebooks, and a hat marking them as saved.
“Here’s a sandwich for you, and some herbal tea,” she says to Peter, handing him an insulated bag and a travel mug. “You need to take a break and eat something,” she gestures for him to sit down.
Matt, sitting on the other side of their parents, leans over to Lizzie. “Bud and Billy are certainly in rare form tonight. They yelled at me that I am ‘in the pocket of big alternative energy,’” he says laughing. “I don’t even know what that means!”
Lizzie laughs, “Oh, he called me a washashore, and Jack too. This is going to be an interesting night,” she says, shaking her head.
Gabby takes another travel mug out of her NPR tote and gives it to Lizzie. “Here’s a decaf green tea with one dollop of honey, just how you like it,” she says as she hands her the mug.
“Thanks, Mom, you’re the best.” She’s surveying the room and is heartened to see lots of younger adults, and even some teens. She recognizes many of the farmers, artists and fishermen and women from all the stories she’s been writing about Terra Marique. We may just do this yet, she thinks.
There’s a hush as the selectboard members and the planning board come in and take their seats at the front of the room behind a long table. The town moderator, Sharon Mackenzie, takes her place at a lecturn adjacent to the table and she swings her gavel.
“Welcome everyone to the Spring Town Meeting, we’re very happy to see so many of you here tonight to vote on these two important projects for Cranberry Harbor.”
“The two projects you are shoving down the throats of our citizens!” Someone yells.
Peter leans over to Lizzie, “I’d recognize Billy’s bellow anywhere,” he says, rolling his eyes.
Sharon pounds her gavel loudly, startling everyone. “Outbursts like that will not be permitted, Mr. Taylor, if that happens again you will be escorted out of the building.”
Lizzie’s phone vibrates with a text from Jack. “And...it’s going to be that kind of night!” He included an eye rolling emoji.
She looks across the gym at him and nods.
“We have several people who want to speak, and we’re going to try to keep this as brief, and as civil as we can. Is that clear?”
Sharon has clearly prepared herself for what the night could bring, and she’s not accepting any challenges for power or anyone being out of order. She is just not having it.
“Alright, so the first item on the agenda is the renovation of the high school. Mr. Mackelroy has requested the floor, so he will open the public comments. Sir, you have three minutes.”
“Three minutes?!” He practically bellows, then calms himself down as he sees a police officer move a little closer. “Fine, I can say what I need to say in one minute. This is a total waste of our tax dollars! These kids don’t need computer labs, fancy new classrooms, locker rooms, and such. This school was good enough for me, and it’s good enough for them. Our taxes are going to double!” There’s a collective groan and some booing from the crowd. Sharon once again wields her gavel.
“That’s enough,” she says to the crowd. “Let him have his three minutes, and then you can have your turn.”
“Mr. Mackelroy, you can continue,” she says.
“And you have to know that the Gazette is in cahoots with the powers that be because they haven’t run one of my letters that I wrote talking about how lots of us feel about this boondoggle.”
Lizzie leans over to her dad, “‘Cahoots’ and ‘boondoggle’ in one sentence. That’s got to be some kind of record.”
“And maybe if all his letters weren’t full of threats, expletives and lies we would have run them,” Peter replies.
“So in closing, I just want to say I don’t even recognize this town anymore,” he’s starting to sputter a bit, clearly, if he had notes he’s not using them. “I want things to stay like they were when I was a kid. Change isn’t good. So I say let’s keep Cranberry Harbor like the Norman Rockwell place it's always been. And if you don’t want your taxes to triple, vote no!”
Peter leans over to Lizzie, “Wow, not one swearing tirade, I’m surprised!
Lizzie laughs. “Yeah, that was a whole bunch of nothing, maybe this won’t be as vitriolic as we feared.”
She looks over at Jack who is nervously running his hands through his hair.
“Does anyone else have comments?” Sharon asks. She looks up and sees a line has formed behind the microphone in the aisle. “Oh, apparently there are many of you…” She clears her throat. “Okay, same rules, three minutes.”
A very nervous young man moves toward the mic. “Uh, hi, my name is Mike Lowell, I graduated last year from this school, and I am here to say-”
“Are you registered to vote, Mr. Lowell? And where do you live?” Sharon asks.
“Yes. I mean, yes ma’am, I am registered to vote, and I live with my parents when I’m not at college? Becky and Tyler Lowell? We live at 36 Sea Street, Cranberry Harbor.”
“Okay, please continue,” she says.
“So, anyway, I just wanted to say, I went all through school here, and I wanted to voice my support for this renovation. In my opinion it’s way overdue. I played sports all four years and all of us stopped taking showers here because the water was so gross. It was like, brown. I had three classes my senior year in classrooms with no windows, and the heat didn’t work, and there was no AC. So we froze all winter and were so hot in the last weeks of school our teacher had us meet in the cafeteria. The kids in Cranberry Harbor deserve and need a place that is clean and safe. Thank you.”
The crowd bursts into applause. “Thank you, Mr. Lowell,” Sharon says, motioning to the next speaker. Person after person talks about how needed the renovations are, for every five people who are pro renovation, there’s one negative one that is always met with stony silence, quite a contrast to the cheers and woots for the pro folks.
An hour into testimonies, Sharon levels her gavel and asks if everyone is ready for the vote. Everyone holds up their voter cards, save a few outliers who seem to want more debate.
“The ayes have it,” she says. She then reads the formal proposal, the budget, and gives the directions. “Everyone keep your card up until the person counting your section signals you to put it down.”
“It’s pretty amazing isn't it that we still run our government that way they did two hundred years ago?” Lizzie says, getting ready to vote yes. “I think that’s good?” she says to her father.
“Ha, I have to say I sometimes wonder if we’d be better off stepping into the twenty-first century, you know, electronic counters or something,” Peter says.
Lizzie is stunned. “Really? The guy who calls Twitter, Tweeter, thinks we should be more plugged in at Town Meeting?”
“Well, maybe I’m getting a little more with it,” he laughs.
“Well, we welcome you to this century, sir,” Lizzie jokes.
Lizzie’s phone dings, it’s a text from Jack.
I think the naysayers are saving their strength to fight our project. #worried
Lizzie looks over to him, and does a hugging gesture, and tilts her head.
She texts him back. Try to stay positive. There’s a lot of young people here. I’ve never seen so many people under 60 at a meeting. Love you xo
Jack is holding up his voter card with one hand and reading his phone with his other. He looks over at Lizzie, smiles, and nods.
Section by section puts their hands down as the counters signal them to do so. The people counting have these hand-held counting devices, and Lizzie prays everyone is accurate.
“It’s going to take a few minutes to get the count tallied,” Sharon says from her lectern. “Why don’t we all take a few moments to stretch our legs, and regroup before the next item, the development called, ‘Terra Marique,’” she reads from her notes.
“It’s a socialist plot to take over the town!” Bud Mackelroy is at it again. Lizzie rolls her eyes, and looks over at Jack who is walking toward her.
“Hi Peter,” he says to Lizzie’s dad.
“You hanging in there okay?” he asks Jack.
He nods, “As well as I could have expected,” he says. “Though I think things are about to get a lot more heated. I said to Lizzie that I think they gave up fighting the school project because they were so outnumbered. This may be a horse of a different color,” he says, evoking the Wizard of Oz , to Lizzie’s surprise. She smiles at him.
“Okay, can everyone return to their seats?” Sharon asks, having returned to her post.
It takes a few moments for everyone to walk back to their seats and get settled.
Once the room is quiet, Sharon opens up a folded piece of paper. She clears her throat and begins to read. “We have 1678 yays for the renovation project, and 49 nays. The town has spoken, the yays have it!” She slams her gavel and the gym erupts in applause, foot stomping and cheers.
Lizzie, Peter, Gabby, Shannon and Matt all burst into applause as well. Matt jumps up and high-fives Lizzie. Her phone buzzes.
Hey, thought we agreed, no high-fives! Jack texted. They look at each other across the room and laugh. Lizzie shrugs.
I did not instigate the high-five I was a mere recipient, she texts back. They smile, and get ready for the next item on the agenda. Their project. Something tells Lizzie the path isn’t going to be quite so easy for them.