The Strawberry Hearts Diner

Woody took his place behind the podium that evening at exactly eight o’clock. He looked out over the packed firehouse room and frowned. “I don’t want our town to be turned into a bedroom community for Tyler folks who don’t want to live in the city. And I sure do not want us to become a divided town because of rumors. Out of fairness, we will let Mr. Carlton Wolfe say his piece to all of us at one time instead of meetin’ with us individually. It’ll make it so that we aren’t hearin’ rumors and we all know what everyone is thinkin’ on this matter. So we’ll let him talk first, and then he can answer all our questions.”

Vicky had chosen a seat near the back, and Jancy sat beside her. Nettie, God love her heart, plowed right up to the front row so she could look that developer in the eye. Vicky just hoped that was all she’d put in his eye. With her temper, he might get a good sharp fingernail or even a poke with the little pink pearl-handled knife Nettie carried in her purse.

The hall was attached to the side of the metal building that housed the two fire trucks and a small office that made up the volunteer fire department. Ten years ago Woody had written a grant along with the help of Gary Drummond, a lawyer who’d come home to Pick when he retired twenty years before. They’d gotten enough money to build both the fire building and a town hall at the same time. It wasn’t fancy, but there’d been lots of anniversaries, birthday parties, and meetings held in the building, and the residents of Pick were grateful to have it.

That night folding chairs had been set up in rows with a center aisle. When Woody introduced Carlton, he appeared from the back corner, out of the shadows, and strutted up the aisle like a banty rooster. He carried his arrogance to the podium, where he adjusted the sleeves of his dark-gray suit, a different one than what he’d worn to the diner the day before. His shirt was bloodred, and his gray-and-white paisley tie had a splash of red.

Feathers, Vicky thought. Any minute now he is going to throw back his head, point that penis nose at the ceiling, and start crowing.

Quite the polished politician, he smiled dramatically out over the crowd. Silence filled the room with only an occasional cough or sigh as everyone waited to hear what he’d say.

There is no way those pearly whites are real. Someone probably knocked the original ones out when he tried to sweet-talk them into buying their property. Vicky hoped they’d scattered all over the street when it happened.

The whole place fell eerily quiet while they waited for him to speak. Then he clapped his hands in front of the microphone three times so fast that it sounded like gunfire. Several folks covered their ears, and two older ladies yelped like they’d been shot.

Nettie gave him an evil look. “You do that again and I’ll make sure you are shovelin’ coal in hell before nightfall. Scarin’ us old people ain’t goin’ to persuade us into lettin’ you have our land and our heritage.”

“Amen, Miz Nettie,” Woody said.

He leaned forward and said into the microphone, “Just like that—you can all be rich. You can retire early, buy a travel trailer, go on that vacation you always dreamed about. I’m gathering investors not only to buy Vicky Rawlins’s property but also the convenience store. I’m interested in the rest of this place, too. It will be a community of beautiful homes and every one of you that sells to me will have the option of buying a new house at a ten percent discount. My company will even take applications to carry the mortgage for you. You don’t get a better deal than that, folks. It’s a win-win situation.”

Vicky felt someone’s presence before she turned her head and saw that handsome cowboy baker, Andy Butler, had sat down beside her. Cowboy baker? What had gotten into her? He’d changed into khaki slacks and a knit shirt with three buttons at the neck. She tried to listen to Carlton going on about the benefits the citizens of Pick would have if they’d only sign away their hearts and souls, but it was useless.

She’d been right. Andy was in cahoots with Carlton. Why else would he be at a Pick town meeting? He wouldn’t have a bit of interest in what went on in their little town.

“He’s a smooth talker. I bet he could sell oceanfront property right here in east Texas,” Andy whispered.

“What are you doin’ here?” she asked.

“Do you know my dad, Wesley Butler?”

“Heard of him. He owns the Butler Ranch north of Palestine, right? Can’t say as I’ve ever met him. What does your father have to do with this community meeting?”

“Carlton Wolfe approached my dad about being an investor, so I came to see what’s going on. I think this is all a show. He’ll run off with the investors’ money as well as the down payments the folks in town give him for new homes. But what do I know? I make cakes and doughnuts for a livin’.” Andy smiled.

“Then if we were to sell our places to him, he would . . .” She paused.

“He’d give you a twenty-page contract full of legal jargon that not even the best lawyers could decipher and you’d never see a dime. But your property would be tied up in court for years while someone tried to sort the whole thing out. I can’t find a thing on him, not where he’s done other deals or anything. Makes you suspicious. I doubt that Carlton Wolfe is even his name.”

“Hey, I got a question for you, Mr. Wolfe.” Vicky interrupted him in the middle of a sentence as she stood. “If we did sell to you—and for the record, I’m not at all interested in selling my property and neither is Nettie—but I was wondering how long is it going to take to see the houses ready to live in?”

“We will have time for questions and answers later, Victoria Rawlins, so take your seat and wait until I have finished talking,” he said.

“My name is Vicky and you want my land, so I want answers. What kind of guarantees do we have that we’d have first chance at the houses you will build? And what’s the price range?”

She enjoyed the fact that she was riling him. Maybe he’d get mad enough to storm out and never come back again.

“Very good questions indeed, and I’m prepared to answer each of them.” His smile didn’t fade, but his jaw worked in anger.

Vicky folded her hands over her chest. “Then have at it. I’m waiting. How about the rest of y’all? You want some answers tonight?”

“Yeah, we do,” Ryder yelled.

“All y’all who w-want him to get down to the details, raise your hand,” Shane said.

Every hand in the place went up.

Vicky expected Carlton to clap again, but he just smiled and nodded. “I have a wonderful surprise for all you folks here in Pick.” His lips peeled back even farther over his perfect teeth, resembling a possum snarling. “I will host a big barbecue feast for the whole town at the city park on Sunday afternoon at one o’clock. I will bring my team to answer any questions, and I’ll have copies of a sample contract that you can all read over. I assure you, my plan will put your little town on the map.”