Cat on the Scent

            “So we have to go to Richmond no matter what?” Jim Sanburne half asked, half informed the audience.

            “Too much government! Richmond will only make it worse. Look at the bypass.” Aunt Tally referred to a bottled-up traffic mess that the state couldn’t resolve, each plan being worse than the former.

            People nodded their heads in agreement.

            “There’s got to be enough water under the ground. Got to be.” Ridley Kent shook his head.

            “Ridley, if you had a brain you’d be dangerous.” Vane-Tempest guffawed at his own joke.

            Ridley, not one to take offense, laughed back. “I mean it. There’re underground rivers as well as overground rivers.”

            “Exactly. Identify the water sources.” Fair spoke again.

            “I agree, but aren’t these feasibility studies also expensive?” Blair finally spoke. As a relative newcomer to Crozet he had learned to wait his turn. Of course, you couldn’t wait your turn until you knew your place on the totem pole, which he was finally figuring out. Given his income and his stunning good looks, he hovered in the middle, much higher than had he been shorn of his attributes. Not being southern, there were moments when the elaborate, unspoken rules overwhelmed him. Harry usually translated for him.

            “Hideously expensive.” Archie leaned forward again.

            “We know there’s plenty of water, plenty.” Herb Jones’s gravelly voice filled the room. “But no matter how much we have, no matter where it is, we can’t dam it up or pull it up without goring somebody’s sacred cow.”

            “I resent that!” Archie jumped up.

            “Sit down, Arch,” Jim calmly commanded.

            Archie didn’t listen. “You’re implying that because my farm is in the path of the reservoir I stand to gain. I think I stand to lose!”

            “Oh, hell, Archie, I implied nothing, but you proved my point.” The room erupted in laughter, then quieted as the elderly minister, beloved of all, continued. “There’s no way a project like this can go forward without enriching some and harming others. Once the state comes in and appraises your land or exercises eminent domain and claims land for the so-called greater good, whatever they do is going to be a real shell game.”

            “You got that right.” Susan’s husband, Ned, chimed in.

            “And what about the bids for the jobs? Who would build the reservoir? You don’t think that’s political?” Vane-Tempest stood up again.

            “Well, H. Vane, I’m not in the construction business.” Archie glared at his former colleague, since he mistakenly assumed the criticism was directed at him.

            “No, but Tommy Van Allen is.” Vane-Tempest appeared triumphant.

            “He’s hardly my best friend.” Archie cleared his throat. “What are you implying?”

            “Gentlemen, Van Allen’s books are open. I have known him all my life.” Jim Sanburne wanted to get this meeting over with.

            “Means you’ve known Archie all his life, too. You have my sympathy,” Vane-Tempest catcalled, tired of Archie’s oversensitivity. A few people laughed. Sarah elbowed her husband to stop.

            “You know, if I weren’t an elected official, I’d smash your face in.” Archie clenched his fists, surprising people. He had a temper but he was taking offense where only leavening humor was intended.

            “That’s quite enough.” Mim rose, facing the gathering. “We need more information. If we ask the state for another study it will be at their convenience and our expense. We are perfectly capable of identifying water sources ourselves. Once we have done that we can formulate our own plan and then present that plan to the state—a preemptive strike, if you will. Archie and Donald, you take the Keswick-Cismont area.”

            “Wait a minute. We have to vote on this.” Archie’s face changed from red to pale white.

            “Call to question,” Miranda said.

            “There’s no motion on the floor,” Jim said.

            “I move that the county commissioners identify all possible water sources in AlbemarleCounty before our next meeting.” BoomBoom succinctly put forth the motion.

            “I second the motion,” Vane-Tempest said.

            “Call to question,” Miranda repeated.

            “All those in favor say aye.” Jim cast his gaze over the room.

            “Aye,” came the resounding reply.

            “Opposed.”

            “Me,” Archie said. “I’ve got enough work to do.”

            “If you want to be reelected to the county commission you’d better change your attitude,” Mim warned. Coming from her it was no idle threat.

            As the meeting broke up, BoomBoom pushed her way to the back. “Harry, don’t forget you’re going to Lifeline with me Thursday night.”

            “I know.” Harry showed no enthusiasm.

            “Eight at the church.”

            “Eight.”

            “Ha-ha,” Mrs. Murphy giggled. “BoomBoom’s got her.”

            “She promised. Poor Mom. She got caught on that one.” Tucker thought it was funny, too, for Lifeline was a group that looked inward, a spiritual awakening larded with lots of psychobabble. Harry was going to hate every minute, but she’d been horn-swoggled into it in front of her friends last fall and now that a new cycle of Lifeline was starting, she had to make good on her promise.