by Ami Diane
Sal cleared his throat. “Okay…” He drew out the last syllable. “Thank you, Leif.”
He only had a moment to fumble with the mic stand before a squat man with a shiny pate lumbered forward. It seemed what hair had receded from atop his head had traveled to his eyebrows.
A woman sat beside the seat he’d just left. Her lips were pinched together, and her eyes squinted in a permanent scowl below hooded lids. Broad shoulders pulled at her floral dress, making Ella wonder again about a gym, as the woman slouched deeper into her chair.
Up front, the man was forced to twist the mic down to catch his voice. He looked over the audience with beady eyes. “As most of you know, I’m Stan Tanner.”
In front of Ella, the obnoxiously tall hat and the woman it perched on shifted, and she had a direct-line-of-sight to Wink. The older woman’s body language became agitated, and she dipped her blue head in conversation with the professor again.
“As you all may know,” Stan continued, “Keystone is in the midst of an energy shortage—”
Whispers rippled through the room like the rustle of falling leaves. Stan held a hand up until the church stilled again.
“Right now, we’re having to cannibalize electricity that’s been allocated to our infrastructure to power homes. We cannot afford to lose any more. As it stands, Keystone’s wind farm is producing at only thirty percent capacity. When we built it, we calculated it at a conservative fifty percent.”
A wave of whispers flowed through before ebbing again.
“Therefore, I’d like to propose building and installing sixteen more wind turbines. According to my calculations, this will give us just enough to cover the town’s needs.”
The whispers turned into a hum, and voices spilled out of the audience.
“How much of a shortage we talkin’?”
“Where would you put ‘em?”
“I don’t think we’re there, yet,” Sal the barber-turned-acting-mayor said, stepping closer to the microphone. He ran a hand over his smooth hair. “As acting mayor, I think we should consider other options before we extend our limited resources to—”
“Like what?” Stan turned a hard expression on him.
“Pardon?”
“What other options should we consider?”
“Like…” Sal’s liquid eyes roamed the ceiling for help. “Like, reducing consumption. We could even have one day a week where we only power the essentials. Water, the greenhouses, you know.”
“Brownout? Won’t be enough.”
In the front row, Wink shook her head. Somewhere on the far side of the church, a man in mud-caked overalls stood. “Don’t believe anything this dirty, rotten scoundrel says.”
“You have something to say, Jonas?” Sal’s expression filled with relief.
“Speak up,” someone in the back yelled. “We can’t hear you.”
Jonas strode to the front. He was at least a head and a half taller than Stan, whose eyes had narrowed to slits.
Jonas elbowed Stan aside and bent over the mic. “This man here is a snake and a liar. Don’t believe anything he says. When he negotiated to put his wind farm on my land, he promised to drill me a well that tapped into the aquifer under the town.
“But what’s he done? Stalled my permits. Lost half my crop of corn. What this half-wit fails to understand is, it ain’t just me who suffers when my crops fail. It’s all of us. Now, all I can grow is potatoes. I hope you all like fries, ‘cause that’s all we’re getting for the next several months.”
The room buzzed with electric conversation. Stan squeezed back to the mic, anger flashing over his face.
“That’s an exaggeration. He’s twisting my words. If you’re going to tarnish my name and throw accusations, you’d better get your facts straight.” He glared at Jonas.
The farmer’s biceps flenched. But despite the visible size difference, Stan had more gumption than Ella would’ve expected, and he didn’t back down.
“It’s true I denied his request for more water, but that’s because I did some calculations. At the time, we only had just enough power for the town. Devoting even a small portion of that for his pumps was simply not an option.”
“It wouldn’t take but another turbine!”
Stan’s head now looked like the top of a swim cap. He pulled out a handkerchief and swiped it over his forehead. “That’s simply not true, but your peanut brain can’t grasp the intricacies of how electricity—”
“Fine. I’ll just make an irrigation ditch from the lake to my farm.”
The room erupted with protests. Jonas held up his hands, yelling over the crowd. “Well, we gotta have crops. What do you want me to do?”
Ella glanced over at the woman she presumed to be Stan’s wife. Her eyes were down as she stared at her feet, her mouth still pressed into a thin line.
“How many can you even put on there, anyway?” Jonas yelled at Stan.
“What’s it to you? It’s not like the expansion will be on your property!”
The acting mayor’s voice was nearly lost as he asked, “Just where are you proposing to install these new turbines, Mr. Tanner?”
Stan dabbed at his caterpillar-brows with the handkerchief. “Well, like I said. Adding sixteen new turbines to our grid would get us just by if we continue operating under our current consumption. But you know how the output of the turbine can be more or less, depending on whatever crumby climate we’re in—”
“Man asked you a question,” the farmer grunted.
Stan glared at him. “I’m getting to that. My proposed location will produce at a higher capacity, giving us more than adequate amounts. We won’t have to worry about brownouts or the greenhouses, and Jonas can have his stupid well.”
“Mr. Tanner,” a councilwoman interrupted from the stage, “where are you proposing to build these new turbines?”
Stan shifted on his feet. “Twin Hills.”
The room erupted. It took several minutes for the acting mayor to restore order, and when he managed, there were still ripples of whispers.
Ella glanced on either side of her to see matching expressions on both Flo and Will, then she stared ahead at her boss’s blue hair. No wonder Wink had been acting funny at work, pushing Ella to hang glide.
“Is there even enough room on the hills?” someone from the audience asked.
Stan nodded. “I’ve already begun negotiations with several property owners. And as some of you may know, the town owns part of the hills. But as it stands, we can only build eight of the sixteen turbines. However, if the council were to approve this expansion, then we could build all of them.”
Jonas ripped the mic away. “Are you proposing the town approves you trespassin’ onto other people’s property to build your stupid farm?”
Stan’s face reddened. “I’m suggesting that if we built on the private properties—”
“Without their consent, right?” Jonas said. His face had also reddened but to an angry violet. “That’s really what you’re asking the committee to decide on. ‘Cause I guarantee, you won’t get all the folks who live up there to allow you to pitch your gaudy turbines on their property.”
Stan looked back at the council members, all of whom suddenly became more interested in the table in front of them.
“I think,” Stan said, snatching the microphone back, “that ours is a unique situation outside the confines of the law. We are our own, independent governing body now, separate from the country. If we don’t have enough electricity, then the crops in our greenhouses die, and we’ll starve. How concerned will you be of the seizing of property then?”
A pregnant silence filled the sanctuary.
Grandma Wink jumped to her feet, sending Chester tumbling to her chair. He chattered angrily at her. “You won’t be building on my property!”
“It would hardly take up any space, Pearl.” A hint of exasperation tinged Stan’s voice. They’d clearly had this conversation before. The way he looked down his nose at Wink gave Ella the urge to run u
p and deck his head into the next week.
“It won’t? Where would the substation go?”
Stan’s mouth worked back and forth, but no words came out.
“My husband built that house with his own two hands, God rest his soul. I will not see our home tainted by one of those things.”
Ella looked sideways at Flo who was too preoccupied nipping a sip from the flask in her purse to notice. Wink had never mentioned being married.
“Those things, as you call them, are the reason you have hot water and lights and heat enough for that varmint you call a pet.”
The acting mayor held his hands up, stepping in. Behind him, the council members shifted in their seats.
“We should vote on this,” someone called out. A few murmurs of approval popped up.
“I’d like to say one last thing,” Stan said.
Sal acquiesced and stepped back. Stan’s expression was hard, and the light shifted in the church as the world outside dimmed even more from the incoming storm.
“I have started a petition in support of the expansion. I suspect there are those out there who may be too afraid to voice their opinions but are smart enough to know I’m right. If we don’t do something soon, we’re talking brownouts, rolling blackouts…” He let the sentence die as he folded his handkerchief. “I’ll be standing by the backdoor collecting signatures. If you wish for anonymity, you may stop by my home at any time. I highly recommend you sign—unless you like the dark ages.”
“And what about my water?” Jonas spat. Stan startled as if forgetting the farmer was still up there.
“Yes, well… I’ll see what I can do.”
Jonas’s jaw twitched as he crossed his arms over his overalls, his eyes full of hate for the stubby man in front of him.
CHAPTER 3
“THAT WAS AN interesting meeting last night,” Ella said, stirring the cream in her coffee until it was the color of caramel. “I mean, no one got hurt this time, so a little dull, but the topics discussed were a bit concerning.”
Rose nodded in agreement. She sat at the kitchen table with Ella, sipping the dark roast. A pin curl wound around her forehead.
“Did you get a chance to talk to Wink afterward?” Ella asked.
“Unfortunately, no.”
The night before, Wink had slipped out, deep in conversation with the professor.
“What was up with her and the professor? Are they an item now?” Ella tried to imagine the free-spirited lady with the stiff, no-nonsense man. It didn’t fit.
Rose coughed into her coffee. “Lord have mercy, no.”
Ella traded her coffee for a croissant and chewed the buttery, fluffy pastry, wondering why Wink hadn’t mentioned being married before. They had only known each other a little over three weeks, so it wasn’t like she was expecting to know her life story. Still, she thought something like that should’ve come up.
After changing into the mess of pink gingham that was her waitress uniform, Ella scratched Fluffy, the inn’s resident Maine coon, on the head then rushed out the front door. Her sneakers slapped over the worn garden path as she walked the few yards to the railcar diner next door.
Ella stopped short. Stan stood outside Grandma’s Kitchen, clipboard in hand. A woman stood beside him with a matching clipboard that dwarfed her petite frame.
Rolling her shoulders back, Ella approached the diner.
“Good morning.” She used her customer service voice while making sure her expression told them to “get lost.”
Skirting them, she aimed for the door, but Stan stepped into her path.
“‘Morning. Can you sign our petition?” His face scrunched into something resembling a smile, and his thick eyebrows gave up the fight and became one.
Ella looked from him to the waif-like woman next to him who’d bowl over in a good breeze.
Stan’s bald head was slicked with sweat. “Our town is in desperate need of more power. And we’d like to expand the wind farm—”
“I heard. I was at the meeting last night.” Maybe it was the fact that she’d only had one cup of coffee, but Ella’s patience dwindled with each passing second. He was barring her entrance to work—and more coffee.
“Perfect. Then you know how important this is.” He shoved the clipboard under her nose. Beside him, the woman sniffed and picked at her nail.
Ella skimmed the sheet in front of her. There were already a dozen names on it and at least a couple rumpled pages full of more names underneath.
“While I’m not against the town getting more energy, I am against you putting more turbines on Twin Hills.”
One eyebrow rose a millimeter. “May I ask why?”
“For one, they’re an eyesore and would ruin the landscape. For another—and the most important reason—a dear friend of mine lives on that hill. In fact, you’re standing in front of her place of business, which I’m guessing isn’t a coincidence. Frankly, I think it’s in poor taste.”
Stan’s genial facade vanished in a flash, and his lips twisted into a sneer. “It’s people like you that keep this town from progress. So afraid of change.”
“I’m from the twenty-first century, numbnuts. It doesn’t get more progressive than that here, and oh my gosh—” Ella snapped her fingers. “I just realized what you remind me of. A mole. You know, the animal with the beady eyes, lives in the ground… No? Well, anyway, you’re the spitting image. Here I was, racking my brain, trying to figure it out. Don’t you hate when that happens? It’s so embarrassing.”
While she rambled, Stan’s nostrils began flaring out, only convincing her more that he was somehow distantly related to the creature.
A motor growled behind them, and Will’s 1948 Chevy pulled up to the curb. He rolled down the window and dipped his chin at Ella by way of greeting before fixing Stan with a look that could freeze the lake over.
“Will, I was just telling Stan here how much he looks like a mole.”
Will’s head tipped to the side in confusion. “Like, the hairy ones on a witch?”
“What? No. Although—” Ella did a double take at Stan’s face “—no. Not that kind. The animal variety.”
“Well, I’ll be. How’ve I never noticed that before?”
“I know, right?”
Stan’s chest rose and fell. “You people are horrible.”
“That we are, Stan. That we are.” Ella’s eyes wandered to the bed of Will’s pickup. A blanket draped over something bulky and shapeless with the escaped end of a hose being the only thing visible. “Whatcha got there?”
Will’s face lit up. “I finished it.”
He hopped out and with a manly flourish that belonged more on the Las Vegas strip, he ripped off the blanket. Ella tipped her head one way then the other, studying it.
“Awesome. Very cool.”
“I’m assuming that means you like it?”
“Yes. I love it. Also, what is it?”
He chuckled. “I’ll give you a hint.” He put the hose up to his mouth.
“Some kind of new beer hat?”
Her eye traced the hose back to the contraption, and that part of her brain that tickled when she saw the half-mole, half-man Stan tickled again. The size was off, and the hose not quite right, but it was definitely familiar.
“Is that a scuba tank?”
He beamed. “So, you do know what this is.”
“Anyone who goes on vacation near a tropical beach knows what this is.” Her smile faltered. “You made this?”
“Yes.” His eyes danced, and Stan and the woman edged closer to see what the fuss was about. “Ever since I read 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea as a small boy, I dreamed of making one. Then, when the professor told me about that aqualung the French invented not too long before I was stranded, well I’ve been fiddling with a design since.”
“Is that an old propane tank?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And duct tape?”
“Yes.” His tone conveyed that he failed to understand th
e problem.
Ella took in the dubious pieces pieces of junk that had been Frankensteined together. “You really MacGyvered the hell out of it.”
“That is the second time you’ve used that word. You’ll have to tell me about this famous inventor of your time.”
She nodded absently, her attention still on the “scuba tank.”
“Okay, but there was propane in there at one point, right? Isn’t that dangerous to breathe in?”
“I made sure to displace all the gas.”
She was getting a bad feeling about this. “Where are you going with the tank?”
“To the lake to run some stress tests, check for any weak points.”
“In the water?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
She let out a sigh. “Why can’t anyone here have a normal hobby? Can you at least wait until I can go with you? It’s never a good idea to dive alone.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “What? I got my open water certification while on vacation in Mexico. I don’t remember much, because of the tequila afterward and whatnot, but I remember the basics. And I certainly remember you’re not supposed to dive without a buddy.”
While they had been talking, Stan had been peering into the pickup bed, inspecting the apparatus. He poked the tank. “So, you really think you’ll be able to dive underwater with this thing?”
“Yes, sir.” Will’s voice took on an edge as if daring the man to question his invention.
“How deep do you think it’ll go?”
Will studied the tank a moment. “Hard to say until after I run my tests, but in theory, at least thirty to fifty feet. It’s an older tank, and I wouldn’t want to push it past that.”
Stan’s eyes glazed over, and he repeated the depth under his breath. Will turned back to Ella, and he rolled back and forth on the balls of his feet. “I’ll just test the gear today, look for anymore leaks in the connections—”
“More leaks?”
“—But I’ll wait to do the maiden voyage, so to speak, with you. What do you say?”
Dubious, homemade gear aside, his enthusiasm was infectious, and she really did miss scuba diving. She relented, and he told her to meet him at the docks at seven the next morning.