won’t make that meeting on time.” They set out for the courthouse at a fast pace. Halfway down the block, Ann revealed what was bothering her. “I am so
pissed
—I’m
royally
pissed!” Louise was a little startled at the strong language coming out of the mouth of this woman. “Did you see that loathsome brother of hers bullying her?”
“You think, right there in front of us, he was trying to change her mind about the sale?”
Ann looked at her in disbelief. “Didn’t you
see it?
He not only tried: he succeeded. You could tell by the way he was talking to her, and the way she gave right in and said yes.”
“Well, she did nod at him—” said Louise.
“Louise, I’ve been talking to these people for a year, and I know them. That woman has just transferred all her fatuous adoration of her father to her big, dumb
brother!”
“But Frank seems pretty darned smart. Why can’t he make a case with his sister?”
Ann gave a low moan, and stopped short on the concrete path into the building. Louise could see the tic in her right eye was bothering her again. But she drew herself upstraighter and said in a determined voice, “I can’t go storming through town venting like this, no matter how angry I am at Sally Porter. People will think I’m nuts. Let’s just forget that dinner, okay?” She grabbed Louise’s arm and started walking again. “People sometimes call this courthouse Boulder’s Art Deco folly,” she said, as if the scene with Eddie and Sally and Frank had never happened.
“Ann,” interrupted Louise, “hadn’t we better talk about this—”
“No,” her companion said firmly, then softened a bit at Louise’s raised eyebrows. “Later, maybe. Not now.” She pointed up at the squarish yellow brick building and continued her history lesson. “Most of the building materials came from the dismantled Switzerland Trail railroad that ran up to Nederland. I like the building. And I like the way Boulder preserves its history. It’s no longer a sleepy, unspoiled mountain college town, and everyone complains about that. Bet you wouldn’t believe this was once a Republican-dominated, conservative little place where people couldn’t even buy an alcoholic drink. The townspeople thought the university people were flaming radicals.”
As if swept along by the tide, Louise played along with Ann’s mood. “What changed it?”
“The sixties. By then, Boulder was no longer dry, and IBM had moved in with its thousands of employees. And then the hippies came, taking drugs and making love in City Park.” She glanced meaningfully at Louise. “I remember my father avoiding that route when we drove through town. That kind of thing certainly helped loosen things up. Now, you have everything here—liberals, conservatives, alternative religions, New Age folks, and the most sophisticated scientists and entrepreneurs. It’s totally changed, but it’s still a great place to work and live.”
As Ann hustled her up the stairs to the third floor, theyencountered another conversational pair on the second floor landing: Sheriff Tatum and Mark Payne. Louise figured the two were engaged in a good ol’ boy conversation, which, if it had taken place outside, might have had one of them chewing a hayseed, the other casually spitting in the dust. As it was, Tatum had one arm propped on a high stone windowsill, and Payne was leaning on the stairway wall, one expensively shod foot on a higher stair, done in marble embellished with an Art Deco inset.
Everybody seemed to know everybody else in Boulder. “Hi, Sheriff Tatum,” said Ann. Louise nodded politely at the lawman. But Ann sailed past Payne without a word. He didn’t change his stance, but his face was transformed when he saw Ann. Suddenly, he looked soft and vulnerable and almost ashamed.
Ann turned her attention firmly back to Louise as they left the men behind. “I’m going to give you a little background that might help you sort things out. There are
pissed
—I’m
royally
pissed!” Louise was a little startled at the strong language coming out of the mouth of this woman. “Did you see that loathsome brother of hers bullying her?”
“You think, right there in front of us, he was trying to change her mind about the sale?”
Ann looked at her in disbelief. “Didn’t you
see it?
He not only tried: he succeeded. You could tell by the way he was talking to her, and the way she gave right in and said yes.”
“Well, she did nod at him—” said Louise.
“Louise, I’ve been talking to these people for a year, and I know them. That woman has just transferred all her fatuous adoration of her father to her big, dumb
brother!”
“But Frank seems pretty darned smart. Why can’t he make a case with his sister?”
Ann gave a low moan, and stopped short on the concrete path into the building. Louise could see the tic in her right eye was bothering her again. But she drew herself upstraighter and said in a determined voice, “I can’t go storming through town venting like this, no matter how angry I am at Sally Porter. People will think I’m nuts. Let’s just forget that dinner, okay?” She grabbed Louise’s arm and started walking again. “People sometimes call this courthouse Boulder’s Art Deco folly,” she said, as if the scene with Eddie and Sally and Frank had never happened.
“Ann,” interrupted Louise, “hadn’t we better talk about this—”
“No,” her companion said firmly, then softened a bit at Louise’s raised eyebrows. “Later, maybe. Not now.” She pointed up at the squarish yellow brick building and continued her history lesson. “Most of the building materials came from the dismantled Switzerland Trail railroad that ran up to Nederland. I like the building. And I like the way Boulder preserves its history. It’s no longer a sleepy, unspoiled mountain college town, and everyone complains about that. Bet you wouldn’t believe this was once a Republican-dominated, conservative little place where people couldn’t even buy an alcoholic drink. The townspeople thought the university people were flaming radicals.”
As if swept along by the tide, Louise played along with Ann’s mood. “What changed it?”
“The sixties. By then, Boulder was no longer dry, and IBM had moved in with its thousands of employees. And then the hippies came, taking drugs and making love in City Park.” She glanced meaningfully at Louise. “I remember my father avoiding that route when we drove through town. That kind of thing certainly helped loosen things up. Now, you have everything here—liberals, conservatives, alternative religions, New Age folks, and the most sophisticated scientists and entrepreneurs. It’s totally changed, but it’s still a great place to work and live.”
As Ann hustled her up the stairs to the third floor, theyencountered another conversational pair on the second floor landing: Sheriff Tatum and Mark Payne. Louise figured the two were engaged in a good ol’ boy conversation, which, if it had taken place outside, might have had one of them chewing a hayseed, the other casually spitting in the dust. As it was, Tatum had one arm propped on a high stone windowsill, and Payne was leaning on the stairway wall, one expensively shod foot on a higher stair, done in marble embellished with an Art Deco inset.
Everybody seemed to know everybody else in Boulder. “Hi, Sheriff Tatum,” said Ann. Louise nodded politely at the lawman. But Ann sailed past Payne without a word. He didn’t change his stance, but his face was transformed when he saw Ann. Suddenly, he looked soft and vulnerable and almost ashamed.
Ann turned her attention firmly back to Louise as they left the men behind. “I’m going to give you a little background that might help you sort things out. There are
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