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I try my best to focus on the presentation. Nick Ford will be the first to speak. I recognize his name—my grandfather mentioned it at one point. Mr. Ford introduces himself as the CEO. He stares at the paper in his hand and begins, robotically rattling off the fiscal advantages of wind farms and how Meriden will benefit as a community.
The tone and arrogance coming off this guy is unbearable. Audience members are shaking their heads, but Mr. Ford continues to read as if a teleprompter is feeding him the words. It’s clear there will be no attempts to connect with the community. His voice is condescending and unlikable.
He rambles on about the excellent offers and packages the company will put together for each property owner. People murmur and shift in their seats. The mention of offers causes a definite stir in the crowd. Someone yells out, “How much? We want to know!”
In response, another community member speaks out. “There is nothing I want from you people. It’s my land.”
The meeting is at a fork in the road, and the energy of the crowd shifts from interested to angry. The second man sitting at the table joins Mr. Ford at the microphone. “Now, folks, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Many things need to happen prior to the installation of any wind turbines. We are here to give you facts and information regarding the benefits of green energy and how your town will prosper. We want you to understand the excellent offer you’re getting ready to accept, a decision that will better life for you and your fellow residents. In addition, we plan to work with your town officials and your zoning board to ensure that we abide by state and town laws. With everyone’s effort, we will move Meriden into the green energy future.”
Listen to this guy. “The excellent offer you’re getting ready to accept.” No one has decided anything yet. These guys are so presumptuous. They don’t know who they’re dealing with.
The crowd grows louder and people begin to shout out questions. Waving his hand, the third company official joins the other two at the microphone and whispers something to both of them. Ford and Hogan sit back, and Lambert takes the mic.
“The purpose of today is to give you, the residents of Meriden, the opportunity to come together and meet the company behind the letters you received. We want this to be a cordial exchange between our company and the residents of this town. Understanding that this decision is personal is at the forefront of our minds. We plan to meet with your town representatives later this week, as well as with the zoning board.
“If you are a property owner who received a letter from us, we encourage you to read the resources we have provided here today. Understanding the benefits and financial advantage that you’ll receive by accepting this offer is extremely important. We’ll be walking around the room to answer as many individual questions as we can. The next time we meet will be at the town council meeting in approximately two weeks to discuss the project’s progress, and we will continue to treat you as partners in this endeavor.”
Upon the conclusion of Mr. Lambert’s attempt to satisfy the crowd and calm the negativity, the room buzzes. By the looks on everyone’s faces, people seem overwhelmed and eager to learn and discuss the aspects of this project with one another and the company.
I’m not impressed with anything they’ve presented and have zero interest in speaking with any of them. My opinion on the matter hasn’t changed from before I entered this meeting; these men are out for a buck. Based on their demeanor, they don’t give a shit about this town. Aside from the orchard and not wanting to see it destroyed, I’m now concerned for Solia and the possibility of her losing the cabin.
What are her parents’ thoughts regarding this? Is she nervous? Is she devastated? What is she going to do?
I know I have no right to involve myself in Solia’s life. I know she’s a strong woman and can figure this out, but I desperately want to help her. She has tremendous pride regarding her decision to move here, and every time I’m in her presence she has a new item she completed checked off her list. She’s hoping to secure a position at Meriden Elementary, making the fact that this company wants to take it out from under her feet devastating. I have to help her.
Everyone is leaving their seats and inching forward to speak to the representatives. Squeezing through the aisles, I scan the room, looking for Solia. I rush past my grandparents and Shannon, standing with a group of locals. Reaching the row Solia was in, I frantically look right, left, behind me. She’s nowhere to be found.
I spin one more time, searching in every direction and then spot the floral print of her dress as she heads out the back door. My heart sinks. There’s no way I’ll get to her in time. The crowd is too thick, and she has already exited. I throw myself into a chair and clasp my hands against the back of my head. The chaos of questions and the noise in the room reaches a crescendo as people’s emotions rise.
The only question I have is, how can I fix this?
I put my head in my hands just as someone grasps my shoulder. I turn to find good ol’ Gerry standing behind me.
“You got it bad, son.” Gerry lets out a laugh and nods toward the back door. “I know love when I see it. I’ve got a plan—follow me.”
Too stunned to speak, I follow Gerry out the door and toward his truck. “Hop in. Let’s get lunch at Billy’s and figure this out.” Without questioning him, I climb in, and we head to the restaurant. My grandparents and Gerry go way back, so I know whatever he has in mind, he has good intentions.
Billy’s is a little on the slow side, only a few trucks parked out front. Most of the regulars are likely still at the meeting. Susan greets us at the door—I’m not sure this woman ever sleeps. Every time I eat here, Susan is front and center. They originally named the restaurant after Billy Senior, but anyone will tell you Susan runs the show.
“Hey there, gentlemen. Table for two?” She smiles brightly and pulls out two folded menus from her red-checkered apron. Before we even answer, she turns and heads to a small booth across from the breakfast bar, motioning us to follow.
Billy’s is Meriden’s version of Cheers in Boston. Everybody knows your name and the menu never changes. At Billy’s, you watch your pancakes get flipped via the peep-through that looks into the kitchen, behind the coffee pots with the brown and black handles distinguishing regular from decaf. The place smells of grease and coffee grounds, and to most of us, it’s home.
Gerry and I settle into our booth. As Susan slides two waters onto the table, Gerry orders.
I guess I won’t need my menu. Gerry clearly wants to get down to business. Fine by me. I’m dying to know what Gerry has up his sleeve.
“OK, so I gather you are upset Solia was in attendance today.”
“Yes. I had no idea her property was on the list. It’s awful. She is trying to start a new life here. This company has some serious nerve.”
“Cheers to that, Jackson. Listen, my property may not be on the line, but I’ve been in the town longer than anybody, and I’ll be damned if I see it destroyed by some rich pricks from New York. People assume because I’m old as dirt, I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll tell you what, I’ve got connections.”
“I don’t doubt you for one second, Gerry. What are you thinking?”
“First thing I know is almost every property owner who received a letter of interest from these guys is either old or doesn’t live here full time. I’ve seen the first list of properties, and they’re playing dirty. If you ask me, they’re preying on the weak for round one. There will be a second list and then a third—they’ll keep going until the damn wind has blown away the whole town!”
“How did you see the complete list?”
