He smoothed the toe of his boot over a mound of snow on the sidewalk. “Blind date gone very wrong.”
I almost laughed. “Blind date?” Gabe didn’t date much and certainly wasn’t one to allow friends to fix him up. I’d assumed his anguish was about town business.
“Never again. My mom is on my shit list for life. There were flying tacos.”
“Sorry, what?”
He shook his head. “And a flat tire.”
“Yours?”
He nodded. “Somehow, I found myself holding a jack in dress shoes trying to figure out when I’d lost the will to live.”
I clapped him on the shoulder. He and I had literally known each other our entire lives, and I’d never seen this kind of cynicism from him. My cousin was all business. Effective and friendly all the time.
“It’s gonna be okay, man,” I said. “People are worked up,but it’s a quick meeting. And then we can watch the fire and drink Nate’s new beer.”
Rather than perk up like I thought he would, he shook his head. “No. I have some really bad news. It’s only gonna get worse.”
Before I could ask, someone called his name.
“Better get in there,” Gabe said. “And face the firing squad.”
Inside Celine had found seats next to Jasper and Evie. The kids were in the basement doing arts and crafts with high school kids again while parents attended the meeting.
“Gabe looks upset,” Celine said. “I told you the pressure was getting to him.”
I put my arm around her, unease making my stomach roll.
Gabe stood behind the podium, staring out at the assembled town. The place was packed. There wasn’t an empty seat. Maplewood was a pretty engaged place, but this was an abnormally large crowd.
Before he could speak, Bitsy Bramble strode toward the center of the room. She pushed Gabe out of the way with shocking strength and gripped the microphone on the podium.
“This is a tragedy,” she exclaimed. “After hundreds of years, Maplewood has fallen.”
A gasp went through the crowd.
Gabe leaned in. “Now, Bitsy, let’s discuss everything.”
She threw a hand up to block him.
“The Maplewood Economic Development Committee received word today.” She drew a breath, like she was purposely keeping us all hanging. “The state has decided weare no longer a suitable location for the Vermont State Maple Festival.”
The room erupted into gasps and shouts.
Gabe pinched the bridge of his nose, his shoulders slumping.
“How could this happen?”
“It’s because we’re Murderville.” Someone shouted
“That’s what we get for trusting a child to run the town.” Another added.
Gabe managed to wrestle the microphone from Bitsy.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, his voice deep and serious. “Please settle down and allow me to explain.”
“The town is doomed,” someone shouted.