The Most Famous Illegal Goose Creek Parade Read Online Free PDF Page A

Geddes on the phone when she got an e-mail from Louise, and she said you were.”
    Never underestimate the power of a small town gossip chain fueled by technology.
    â€œI don’t care what she said.” He spoke a bit more forcefully than necessary and saw a few eyebrows arch. Swallowing back his rising ire, he went on in a calmer tone. “I agreed to look at the house only because today is our wedding anniversary, and I want to do something to please my wife. But I told her, and I’m telling you, that I have no intention whatsoever of buying that house.”
    The moment of silence while everyone pondered his words was broken when Woody said, “Well, when you need my brother-in-law’s phone number, let me know.”
    The buzz in his head increased as everyone returned to their coffee.
    The bells jangled and Jerry Selbo entered. Al joined the chorus of hellos to greet the Goose Creek mayor. He answered the greetings with a smile and shrugged out of his jacket as he crossed the room to take an empty chair at Al’s table.
    â€œBit of a nip still in that breeze,” he commented, and a collective murmur of agreement answered him.
    Lucy set a tall glass of orange juice in front of him. He lifted the glass to his mouth.
    â€œSo what’s the news on the water tower?” asked Jacob.
    The glass halted an inch from Jerry’s lips. His eyes widened and flickered sideways toward the counter. Jacob’s mouth snapped shut as a heavy silence descended.
    Perched on the third stool, Norman Pilkington jerked to attention. “What’s ’at? What’s goin’ on with the tower?”
    Jacob winced and mouthed Sorry at the mayor, and then hid behind his coffee mug.
    Though Al was absent from Goose Creek throughout the week, he stayed well informed on issues related to the town’s management because Jerry was a member of the men’s group he attended at church on Wednesday nights. This topic had been discussed last week.
    The Goose Creek water tower was located one block off of the east end of Main Street. It stood sentinel over the town, a skyscraping monument that symbolized the town’s autonomy from the rest of the sprawling county. Three years ago the town hired Norman Pilkington’s son to repaint the tower. The only positive comment Al had ever heard from anyone besides Norman was that at least the job was completed on time. The color Little Norm chose was a sickening shade of chartreuse which some compared to baby vomit. The black lettering marched unevenly around the tower’s barrel with the k in Creek taking a disturbing downward slant as though it intended to dive off the platform and escape. Every time Al looked at it, an obsessive itch erupted in the base of his skull and he battled an irrational desire to climb the tower with a can of spray paint and put that k out of its misery. Though it had only been three years the paint had begun to flake. Some said Little Norm had bought it at a bargain—which explained the hideous color—while billing the town for premium stuff.
    Al had learned to walk through town with his gaze lowered.
    Mayor Selbo set his juice down untasted. Only those seated with him saw the slight tremble of his hand. Al felt a flash of sympathy atthe mayor’s resigned expression. By nature he was a mild-mannered man with a deep desire to please his constituents, and went to great lengths to avoid confrontation. There seemed to be no way to avoid this one, though.
    Drawing a deep breath, Jerry turned sideways in his chair to face Norman. “I’ve received a complaint about the peeling paint on the water tower. It needs to be repainted.”
    â€œLast few winters’ve been hard ’uns on paint. My barn’s peelin’ too.” Norman glanced around and received a few hesitant nods.
    Al kept his gaze averted. No doubt everyone in the room shared the same thought. Norman’s son had painted his father’s