welcomed him to town and had grown very fond of him. When Lucky took over
the restaurant, she was struggling with grief. She couldn’t bring herself to live
in her childhood home, nor was she able to afford to do so with the restaurant doing
poorly. When their local Realtor found Horace, Lucky was delighted and relieved he
wanted to rent the house on a long-term basis. Horace had taught history all his life
and was now working on a book about his particular field of interest—the Revolutionary
War years in New England. He, like many others before him, had fallen in love with
Snowflake and had settled happily into Lucky’s family home to enjoy his retirement
and begin work on his long-desired project.
“Horace, you haven’t said very much all morning,” Hank said.
Horace slipped on his wire rim glasses. The sun streaming in through the gingham curtains
lit up his mane of white hair. He was a big man, slightly portly, who had been enjoying
most of his meals at the Spoonful and had put on several pounds since living in Snowflake.
“I, like you, am terribly saddened to see this happening. I haven’t said very much—after
all, I don’t have a long history here—but I so appreciate this town and the efforts
everyone has made to keep the old buildings and restore so many of them.”
“Are you willing to join us, then?” Barry asked.
“Well, yes, if you’ll have me. I would be honored.” He smiled sweetly. “Nothing like
a good demonstration to remind ourselves we were all rebels once. Besides, the Reenactment
of the Battle is only a few days away and I for one would prefer to have something
more dignified than a car wash as a backdrop for our town celebration. After all,
I’ve been asked to play a Hessian and I’d much rather like to do so without bulldozers
growling in the background—really interferes with the willing suspension of disbelief.”
“Well, that’s it then,” Barry said. “We’re starting tomorrow at nine o’clock. I’ll
give your name to Harry Hodges to add to the list.”
“Harry from the Auto Shop?” Horace asked. “I know him. He put in a new alternator
for me a few months ago.”
“Good then. We’re agreed. The plan is to do whatever we can to halt or delay construction.
Demonstrating with signs and all that is fine, but it’s gonna take more than that.
If our own town council can be swayed into voting for this, the hell with ’em.”
Hank grimaced. “Swayed! That’s a nice way to put it. Bought off, more likely. Every
single one of them, except Edward Embry, the only honorable man on the council in
my opinion. Maybe we should be working on a recall vote of the rest of those corrupt
twits.”
“I agree. But first we have to do whatever it takes to stop this project. Even if
it means we block the big equipment from getting in or out with our cars, or we lie
down in the dirt. They won’t be able to carry us all away. And there isn’t enough
room in the two cells at the police station to hold all of us anyway.” Barry’s face
had grown flushed and angry.
“Jack. You with us?” Hank turned to Jack.
“You bet I am.”
Lucky glanced at her grandfather and exchanged a look with Sage through the kitchen
hatch. Jack’s health had steadily improved over the last few months, but she wanted
to keep a close eye on him. When she had first returned to Snowflake, her grandfather
was suffering from a constellation of health problems—heart palpitations, fatigue,
memory lapses and actual episodes of dementia. It was Dr. Elias Scott at the Snowflake
Medical Clinic who had diagnosed Jack’s problems as a severe vitamin B deficiency.
Now, after six months of treatment, Jack was strong and healthy. He occasionally suffered
from his wartime memories, but even these seemed to be lessened with his medical treatments.
He was getting older, there was no denying that, and Lucky worried about him. Jack
was the