This can’t be about us. Seriously.
Bernadette rises from her seat.
Molly sighs. “I know what you’re going to say, Bernie, and—”
“Oh, don’t you try that psychic nonsense with me,” says the older woman. “Letting them stay after what they did would be wrong.”
Standing beside me, Nash’s one working eye is as wide as can be beneath the brim of his baseball hat. The other is turning the most delightful shades of black and blue. I don’t know if he thought the hat would make him harder to recognize. However, given the couple of glares and curious glances we’re getting, it doesn’t appear to be working.
His hand rubs up and down my spine supportively. And I appreciate the contact. It’s doubtful anything we did would please Bernadette. But this many people gathering to discuss usseems extreme. Neither Grandma, Charlie, nor Angus chose to come with us. Which was probably the right decision.
“I don’t know about that. We forgave your daughter for getting drunk, stealing a tractor, and driving it into the duck pond that time,” says someone in the front.
Bernadette huffs. “For heaven’s sake, that was over forty years ago. The girl was sixteen. And at least she didn’t lie.”
“What are you talking about?” argues Sabrina. “She still denies doing it to this day. Which is ridiculous, considering she drove the damn thing down Main Street at midday while wearing her prom queen sash. How many innocent waterfowl were harmed by Sheila’s actions? Answer me that, Bernie!”
Bernadette’s face is thunder. “Those birds were wild. Anything could have killed them. And how dare you besmirch my family name when it was your second cousin Greta riding her lawnmower back and forth to the grocery store after she lost her license cause her eye sight got so bad.”
“Yeah, but Greta didn’t run anyone over,” says Sabrina. “Avian or otherwise.”
“She wasn’t averse to stopping for a cocktail or three at the bar before riding home though, was she?”
Sabrina gasps in outrage. She doesn’t, however, deny it. I want to meet Greta. She sounds like a legend.
“You know, this is just like that time the sherif shot himself in the foot showing off his skills to some girls,” says some dude in a Grateful Dead tee standing off to the side.
Sabrina frowns. “How is that similar?”
“Sometimes people do stupid shit,” he explains.
“That’s true,” says Carter, with his brows drawn down. “They really do. Mindbogglingly stupid.”
Mayor Molly nods. “And we as a community can choose to show what beautiful spirits we are and be benevolent and open-minded about such unfortunate situations.”
Which is when Father Frank takes a stand. “Forgiveness isn’t always divine. Sometimes it’s just weak!”
“Maybe a little less hellfire and brimstone there, Father.”
“I wasn’t finished,” says Bernadette, with a fierce frown and a piece of paper in her hand. “This has the signatures of eighteen citizens demanding the immediate removal of those two individuals.”
Rose snorts. “You are aware this is a free country, right?”
“Eighteen?” asks Isa from the coffee shop. “You could only get eighteen people to sign?”
An older man gets to his feet, aided by his walking stick, and says, “I don’t like his music. We should get rid of him.”
“Dad, sit down,” says Sabrina. “You don’t even listen to music.”
“We don’t need rich people coming in here and ruining everything and changing the town,” says Gordon, the antique store owner. Given the deal he got on Nash’s watch, the man could afford to be on our side.
“I want you to feel heard, Gordon,” says town mayor and psychic counselor Molly. “To know that your opinion matters. If I can just gently point out here, however, that you are in fact completely wrong. Because what has Nash done besides join almost every community group and support their endeavors?”
“Those recent anonymous donations had to have been made by him,” adds Carmen. “Who else has that kind of money to throw around?”
Bernadette does not seem pleased to hear this news. “I refuse to be bought by some rockstar drug-taking, sex-pervert type!”
Subdued murmuring seems vaguely supportive of this stance. Which has me worried.
