Page 179 of Sugar & Shadows

Wendy took the microphone back. “Now in accordance with the Maplewood Municipal Charter, a formal vote will proceed by floor division. Yea voters—those in favor—will move to the right side of the room. Volunteers will record names and log votes, so stay there. Nay voters will move to the left side of the room, where their responses will be logged.” She paused, looking around. “Any questions?”

When the room remained quiet, she cleared her throat and peered down at her notecard.

“On the matter of Article 6. Shall the town of Maplewood, Vermont, authorize the appropriation of municipal funds to establish and operate the Maplewood Games initiative, including tourism development, infrastructure planning, event staffing, insurance procurement, and associated economic-development activities to benefit the town and surrounding areas?”

Lowering her notecard, she dipped her chin.

“You may now cast your votes.”

The room stilled. For a moment, people looked around, gauging one another. My heart thudded. I’d never seen this happen. Voters usually lined up on the side of the room where their vote would be counted before the meeting even began.

Sweat broke out on my brow, and my stomach churned. My nerves were tempered when a chair scraped against the floor and Marigold stood.

“I vote fuck yes.” She raised her leopard-print cane in victory and shuffled to the right side of the room.

Several people followed, Tony, my parents, Chief Ashburn, Josh, and Celine.

More made their way over as the seconds ticked by. I held my breath and bowed my head, focusing on the squeak of wet boots on the floor and the murmur of voices.

As mayor, I was forbidden from voting, but Sabrina and Nina joined the group on the right side of the space.

When the sound of footsteps died down, I forced my eyes up. Bitsy and her volunteers were furiously scribbling names and logging votes.

But one side vastly outnumbered the other.

There were—I stopped to count—twelve people on the left side. On the right, over one hundred.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Frank Lancaster. You get your ass over here right now.” His wife Del yelled, and Frank shuffled over to her.

That left eleven nays then.

“The yeas have it,” Wendy announced. “But please stay still while the volunteers record what the charter requires.”

When they’d finished, she held up another notecard.

“Now we will vote on article 7. Petition for the recall and removal of Mayor Gabriel Harding from elected office. All those in favor of recall move to the right and vote yea. All those opposed—nay—to the left.”

Again, the room was still and silent. The radiator rattled, and the sound of breathing was nearly deafening.

Then, finally, Sabrina and Marigold linked arms and shuffled across the room, only stopping when they stood right in front of me. “I vote nay,” Sabrina said.

Laurie, Nina, Josh and Celine, and my parents followed.

The squeaking of shoes returned as people began moving across the room, their chatter getting louder.

Farmers, teachers, the old men who sat at the counter of the diner every morning. Families with sleeping kids in their arms. People I’d grown up with. People I’d let down.

My throat tightened as the left side swelled. Some people hesitated, stared at me, or whispered with their neighbors, but slowly, every person in the room was on the left side of the room.

Everyone but Bitsy. She stood in the middle of the space, scrutinizing me as if she couldn’t make up her mind. There was nothing I could say, nothing I could do. And that feeling, of knowing that I couldn’t please her and realizing I no longer had to try, was liberating.

Sighing, she shifted and straightened her skirt. Then she strode toward me. “Don’t make me regret this, Gabriel,” she said with a haughty glare.

“No, ma’am,” I replied.

As I studied my constituents, a mixture of relief, pressure, and hope filled my chest. Despite the violence, the scandals, the loss of the Maple Festival, and all the fear, my town was still here. Its people were fighting and always choosing each other.