Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
“Alright, we now move on to item two. The proposal is regarding the parcel of land presently owned by the town to be turned over to a new nonprofit that would be overseen by a board of directors, all from the town, and the project to be managed by Jack Cahoon. The purpose of this nonprofit is to provide housing, farming, workspace and alternative energy sources which will include a discrete turbine, solar panels and state-of-the-art storage batteries, making the entire enterprise completely energy self-sufficient. The goal is to provide housing for 100 families and individuals. Mr. Cahoon states that the intention is to keep much of the aesthetic beauty to the property, make as little of an environmental impact as possible, while providing much needed housing and opportunities for as many year-round jobs as possible.”
Sharon looks up from her papers. “Mr. Cahoon has asked for a few minutes to speak to better explain what he and his investors envision for this project.”
Lizzie looks over at Jack as he makes his way to a mic stand in the aisle near him. Lizzie is posting the highlights of the meeting on the paper’s social media - mostly Instagram and X, but also some posts on Facebook too for the older demographic still hooked on Facebook. Doing this was a nice distraction from worrying and obsessing.
“He’s going to turn this place into Silicon Valley! Vote no!” Someone, most likely, Bud yells.
“Thank you, Madam Moderator. And to answer that comment, no, this will not turn our beloved community into Silicon Valley, but if we keep going the way we are we are going to turn into Sunset Pines, South Hampton, or some other community that is not right for us. And I will dispel the inaccurate notion that this will raise your taxes. It will not. This endeavor is being funded by a handful of investors and grants. Anything else you’ve heard is a lie. ” He pauses and looks around the room, and takes a breath. “We are at a crossroads here in Cranberry Harbor, my friends. The median price for a house is well beyond the means of an average person. We are in danger of losing our future, of losing all the young people who will be graduating from this wonderful new high school and leaving because they can’t afford it, and there’s no future for them here. We have teachers, police and firefighters who live with their parents. We have frontline people who work in our supermarkets and restaurants, who have to travel almost an hour because there is no place for them to live here. We have always been a community that yes, while we had some wealthy second home owners, and retirees, we also had folks like my parents who worked hard their whole lives, my mom as an accountant and my dad as an electrician. But they could buy a house here, they could raise a family here. Now, with the median cost of a home closing in on a million dollars, that dream is no longer possible.” He pauses again. “Add to this the threat of climate change,” there’s a loud boo from a very small faction, “and life as we know it on Cape Cod, and here in Cranberry Harbor could be coming to an end. Now I know this little nonprofit isn’t going to save Cape Cod, and it’s certainly not going to save the planet, but it’s a start. It’s a step in the right direction. What we envision is a place where science and living off the land, and the creative genius of this special place can come together and create a self-sufficient community that will benefit us all.” There is wild applause and cheering. “I ask you to please vote yes for this project, and take a step toward envisioning a new, greener, and more equitable future for Cranberry Harbor.”
Lizzie’s eyes well up and she leaps to her feet. “Yes!” she yells. She then catches herself not exactly being an impartial journalist and sits down, and puts her hands on her lap and sits quietly.
“Thank you, Mr. Cahoon, I can see there are some others who wish to speak, Mr. Taylor, you may have the floor for three minutes,” Sharon says.
“I just wanna say that project will be the worst thing to happen to Cranberry Harbor ever.” Lizzie can feel her face getting hot. “He,” he says, pointing at Jack, “is nothing but a carpetbagger who is going to take that land, build a bunch of places for his fancy California tech buddies and leave us hanging. I know his type, he doesn’t care about this town, not one little bit. Nothing needs to change here, we’re doing just fine. We don’t need any outsiders coming in and changing everything!” he inexplicably yells.
Jack jumps to his feet and heads to the nearest mic. “Excuse me? Can I have a quick rebuttal?” Sharon nods.
“I’ll be quick. First, I’m a native Cape Codder, I was actually born in an ambulance on our front lawn, a true native Cranberry Harbor resident, Mr.Taylor, and you know that. Second, this is housing for people who live here. There may be a few tech people I bring in to help run the project, but priority for all the housing, farming, and commercial art and kitchen space is for residents, those who have small businesses, and those who work fulltime in town. Mr. Taylor and his group have been spreading misinformation from the get-go. They have been invited time and again to sit in on meetings but have always declined. Instead they prefer to craft the fictional narrative they are feeding to all of you.” He stops and looks around the room. “Look, I love this town. Ever since I moved away three years ago I have spent every day planning how I could get back here, and how I could do something good for the town. Terra Marique is that dream come to fruition. I am committed to this project, but more than that I am committed to this community. I plan to raise my own family here, and I would do nothing to harm it.Thank you.” Jack turns and heads back to his seat.
There is much applause, but there is still a little booing. Jack sits down and looks over at Lizzie. She’s having a hard time hearing Jack being attacked. She is literally sitting on her hands to avoid wildly gesturing to the crowd. She also felt a flutter in her chest at his mention of raising a family there. It’s what she wants too.
“Are you doing okay?” her dad leans over and asks.
“Yeah, I just get so mad,” she says. “I’m hoping some positive folks will get up.”
As soon as she says that, Leah steps up to the mic. She’s been running Sea Coast Coffee for her grandmother for the last couple of years, and is also a big proponent of Cranberry Harbor becoming greener.
“Hello, I am Leah Alden. I live at 14 Main Street. Other than my four years away at college, I have lived my entire life on this little peninsula. I love this town. As most of you know, I am now running the business my grandmother started decades ago, Sea Coast Coffee. If I didn’t have family to live with, and if I hadn’t had an established business to join, I wouldn't be able to be here.” She stops, looks down and takes a breath. “A lot of you are new residents, and I am not saying that because I think we locals are better, or should have more rights, but I only say it because you probably don’t have the history we do. And with that history is the commitment to stay and make it work, not just for yourself, but for the people coming up behind you. As someone who runs a small business here, I know how hard it is for us to find help because no one can afford to live here.” She pauses again. “Many of you probably also don’t know that we didn’t used to get the kinds of heat and storms we do now. Maybe some of you are aware of how much shoreline we are losing every year, but I’m betting a lot of you don’t think about how we can change that. Your first experience of that reality may have been when the Snack Shack at Sea Meadow Beach got washed into the ocean three years ago during a winter nor’easter. But this is something I think about every day, and it’s something Jack Cahoon and his team have also put a tremendous amount of thought into. I went to college to study environmental science, I didn’t plan on taking over the coffee shop. I know what trouble we’re in if we don’t make some big changes, nationally, and locally. Like Jack said, this one project won’t change the course of the planet, but it's a start. It also won’t solve all our housing needs, but it’s a start. We need to start somewhere, right? Please vote yes.”
There’s much applause as Leah walks back to her seat and sits down. Lizzie looks over at her and can see her letting out a big breath and letting go of the stress of speaking up.
Next up is an older woman Lizzie can’t place. She slowly makes her way to the mic using a cane.
At first her voice is barely audible as she’s too far from the microphone.
“Miss Millie, you need to stand closer,” says a young man sitting nearby. He gets up and helps her.
“Thank you, dear,” she says.
Now Lizzie knows who she is, she’s Millicent Maguire, always called Miss Millie, she was the town librarian all through Lizzie’s school years in Cranberry Harbor. She was always kind and encouraging when Lizzie was writing for the Gazette in high school and college, sometimes finding information for her stored on microfiche in long-forgotten places in the library.
“I won’t take but a minute,” she says, “But I just had to speak up.” Lizzie finds herself sitting on the edge of her seat wondering what she will say, if she will be pro or con.
“I just wanted to say that I am 97-years-old, and this is the only place I have ever lived. I was here before cars, why, there were lots of houses that didn’t even have electricity when I was a girl. I’ve seen people, businesses and ideas come and go. I’m betting most of you don’t even know we once had a bustling train station.” She pauses for a moment, and Lizzie is worried she’s feeling unsteady, but actually she’s far from it. “The one constant has always been a solid year-round community. We were always there for each other in hard times, like the Depression, wars, storms and personal losses. If we lose our young people, if we don’t have them starting businesses, raising families, buying and building homes, what will we be? Last month I fell down and the rescue squad was there in minutes. The young paramedic who helped me told me she lives almost an hour away because there are no places to rent year-round here. She wants to live here more than anything. All of you people booing and saying bad things about little Jack Cahoon?” Lizzie smiles and looks over at Jack who is clearly blushing, “you have no idea how lucky we are to have someone like him who wants to help us. If it was up to you fellas, Billy and Bud, we’d be stuck in the era I grew up in, which I wouldn’t wish on anyone! Well, except for maybe the weather which was not nearly as dramatic,” She laughs. Oh my gosh, Lizzie thinks, she’s still sassy and so present. She knows she probably shouldn’t but she applauds and the room joins her in thunderous support. “If you love this town, and I’m sure you do, you will vote yes on this project and let these smart young folks begin the work to save our economy, our shoreline and our community. Thank you. And now I have to get back to my seat and sit down, because this is a lot for a little old lady,” she smiles. Three different people get up to help her, including Alexis who takes her arm and leads her back to her seat.
Lizzie quickly types a text to Jack.
Well if that doesn’t put this over the top I don’t know what will.
Jack looks at his phone, and then at Lizzie and makes a little prayer gesture.
“Is there anyone else who wishes to speak?” Sharon Mackenzie asks from the front of the room.
A few people had been lined up, but Lizzie senses they’ve read the room and have all sat back down.
“Well then, let’s take a vote to decide if public debate is over and if we will stop debate and take a vote,” she says.
Just then there is a lone, deep voice from the crowd.
“I got something to say,” says the deep baritone, Lizzie is straining but can’t see who it is.
“Okay, sir, make your way to one of the microphones and you have three minutes,” Sharon says.
A man makes his way down the center aisle. He’s wearing a red plaid, flannel shirt, black knit cap, well-worn jeans and equally well-worn work boots. He has a hand-carved cane and is walking with a bit of a limp. Lizzie looks over at her dad wondering who this is. He doesn’t look at all familiar to her.
Peter looks shocked, and mouths to Lizzie, “Oh my god.” Lizzie turns back to see the man remove the cap, allowing a cascade of white hair to tumble out. She looks back at her dad.
“I thought he was long dead,” he whispers to her. “That’s Shadrach Nickerson, I haven’t seen him in years.”
“Who is he?” Lizzie whispers.
“A cranberry farmer, a fisherman, bricklayer, you name it, he did it,” Peter says.
“I’ve never seen him,” she says.
“Well, neither have I, in decades, I can’t imagine what he’s got to say.”
Lizzie has been so distracted whispering with her dad that she hadn’t noticed the other whispers circling around the room. Apparently they are not the only curious people there.
Sharon gently strikes her gavel, signaling to everyone to be quiet.
“Ma’am, I have not spoken up about anything in this town in, well, I’ve never spoken up. I just keep to myself. But I had to come out for this. I am Shadrach Nickerson. I live down at the end of Nickerson Road. Lived there all my 87 years.” He looks around the room. “My family has been a part of this town for four hundred years, my ancestors built many of the buildings you all use every day. Nickerson is one of the oldest names in Cranberry Harbor. I don’t like change. I don’t like new fangled things like the internet, but I’m smart enough to know what I don’t know. What these young folks have in mind though isn’t all new. Using the sun and the wind for energy is about as old as it gets. Somewhere along the line humanity went off the rails thinking they could outsmart science and nature and use up and pollute the planet and not have to pay the piper down the road. Well folks, the bill has come due, and we have to do something. And we have to do it now if we are going to save this town. We are drowning in plastic, we are heating up this planet so much that it’s trying to throw us off like so many fleas on a dog.” Lizzie looks down and smiles, shaking her head at how wonderful he is. “And if we don’t do something now about making it so young people can afford to make a home here? Well, soon it’s going to be me, Millie, and a few rich folks who I doubt are going to want to be stocking the shelves at Bradford’s or driving a fire truck. So all you naysayers, I’m looking at you Bud and Billy, you two have never done a lick of anything to help this town, all you like to do is stir up trouble and try to make yourselves look like you big fish when you’re nothing but chum. You need to sit down if you’re not going to pitch in. You are going to be responsible for the death of this town all because you just need to shoot off your mouths. Well I'm telling you, for the sake of all of us here, just shut the heck up and let people who know a whole lot more than you do to help save us.”
He pauses and the crowd begins to loudly clap and cheer him on.
Once again the sound of the gavel breaks through the noise. “Quiet, please, Mr. Nickerson, you need to wind this up,” Moderator Mackenzie says.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ve said all I need to.” He pauses and looks down. “There’s been a lot of mistakes in the history of this town, beginning with how the Native Amercians were treated when families like mine arrived. We cannot undo the damage done by our ancestors, nor can we undo the damage done with poor planning for the influx of folks with so much money that they priced out the people who do all the living, working, and growing of this town. But we have the power to make changes now. We can start now to be the people who do the right thing. The right thing for the people, and the planet. Thank you.”
With that the crowd jumps to its feet and not even the sound of the gavel can contain it.
“Quiet! Please, quiet! We need to take our seats,” Sharon says. “By a show of hands, are we ready to take a vote?”
Practically every single hand goes up. “The majority has it, we will now take a vote to approve the town giving the land at the southern end of town, 45 acres, to the Terra Marique nonprofit corporation to build housing for no more than 300, and to include wind turbines, solar panels, acres for local farming, a commercial cooking facility for local vendors, and other outbuildings for community use. All of you know the protocol. I will ask who is voting for this project first, hold your cards up until the counter for your area signals you to put it down. We will then ask for the no votes, same procedure. We will now start the vote, all those in favor, please raise your card.”
Lizzie looks around and it is a sea of blue cards raised over the heads of everyone. She and Jack look at each other from across the gym and are both shaking their leads in disbelief.
In under five minutes the cards are all down. “All those voting no, please raise your cards,” she requests. There are a smattering of cards scattered across the vast room. The counters are done in about one minute.
It’s clear the yes vote has it, but they of course have to wait for the final tally.
Keely from Town Hall brings a paper to Sharon who opens it. “Alright, so we have 1934 votes for the project, and 123 against. The proposal passes.”
Lizzie doesn't care if she looks biased, she jumps up and runs over to Jack. “You did it! You really did it!” she says, hugging him tightly.
He squeezes her and lifts her off her feet. “Yes! We did it, not just me.” He sets her down. “I'm so grateful to you and your dad for all the stories, all the op-ed pieces, and well, just being there for me. Thank you.” He leans down and kisses her.
“This is a huge move forward for the town,” Lizzie says. “Even if I didn’t love you I’d be for this project. But since I do love you, it’s even sweeter.”
Alexis, Leah, Sean and Ben all come over and there are high-fives and hugs all around.
“Clearly they didn’t get the high five memo,” Lizzie jokes to Jack.
“I am all in for the high-fives now that we won,” he says, kissing her again.
Their revelry however is cut short when Billy and Bud strut on over, pushing their way into their happy circle.
“Yeah, you go ahead and celebrate now, Cahoon,” Billy says. “You may have won this battle, but the war is just beginning.”
“Billy, I don’t want to be at war with you, or anyone,” Jack says, extending his hand. “Why don’t we all just move forward and let bygones be bygones. Clearly the town wants this.”
“They don’t know what they want,” says Bud.
“You just watch your back,” Billy says, walking away.
“Yeah, what he said,” Bud chimes in.
The group of friends all look at each other in stoney silence.
“Um, he just threatened you and we all heard it,” Alexis says.
“Yeah, that was definitely a threat,” Lizzie agrees. “Maybe we should talk to the police?”
“No, I’m going to chalk this up to the heat of the moment and being sore losers,” Jack says. “I don’t want to start this project with police and charges of threats. Let’s hope as time goes on they’ll see that the town really wants this and we can all move forward. Peacefully.”
“Okay, but we’ve all got your back, Jack,” Ben says, “And I did not intend to make that a rhyme,” everyone laughs, easing the tension of the moment.
The group breaks up after deciding to go to Murphy’s to celebrate.
As Jack and Lizzie head to their cars, after saying goodnight to their families, Lizzie takes Jack’s arm. “I’m a little scared about those guys. You really think that they’re going to calm down and not do anything?”
Jack stops and looks at her. “Yeah, I really think they’ll move on to something else in due time.” Lizzie knows Jack well enough to know when he’s trying to reassure her about something, so she decides not to press the subject.
“Well, if you’re not worried I won’t be either,” she lies, hugging him before she gets in her car. She starts her car, fastens her seatbelt and thinks, he may be certain, but she’s not, and she’s going to keep her eye on those two. They’re up to something, she doesn’t know what, but between her and her dad they have decades of investigative journalism, and she’s going to find out.