A Water War in California

Chapter 4
Reunion

“Why is there such a delay picking up an application.” Consuela said to no one in particular and Dennis Edgecomb, Esq. only smiled indulgently into her troubled, blue eyes. They had discussed the possibility of waiting less than an hour ago on the brief drive to City Hall. He had seemed to admire the tactics that she regarded as bullying.

Patsy, the receptionist; plump, pale and impassive, ignored the question, too. She could have been a pretty girl, but her dead pan expression marred her features. When the couple didn’t move, she explained tonelessly with eyes averted, “The Mayor makes it a policy to interview applicants before we can pass out any forms. I see that you do have an appointment for forms.” Without waiting for a response, she turned her back on them to take a phone call.

When she didn’t get an answer, Consuela stared past her tall and well-tailored companion to the bronze triptych, crowned by bronze letters eighteen inches high, proclaiming POLLARD PARK. The first panel portrayed the new chrome and glass city hall in which they were waiting. In the middle panel the artist had captured the panorama of rolling hills in the days of the great Mexican land grants. Consuela studied the third scene that featured a vast herd of cattle, rivaling the original mission herds that Don Miguel acquired with the title to El Rancho de las Cuevas, The Ranch of the Cows.

She peered at the tiny figures of the vaqueros and stifled a laugh. There was Monty Pollard in the elaborate costume of the Charro, holding the reins in one hand and poised to swing a long whip with other. With customary overkill the captions read POLLARD. POLLARD. POLLARD. Outside the massively carved office door the bronze nameplate read MONTGOMERY POLLARD, MAYOR. Consuela muttered to Dennis, “Mayor, Lord and Master.” It was a sickening thought that the creator of Pollard Park, its first and only mayor, enjoyed virtually medieval power. She though Pollard may be the Lord of Main Street, but, please, God—not of my manor.

They both turned as the heavy door swung open. Faith Kruger, a neighbor, came out stuffing papers into her purse. She bumped into Consuela as she walked toward the entry. Her once-blonde hair was now a white halo, framing a fine featured face.

“Morning, Faith. As you finished in there?” Consuela asked. Faith shrugged. She avoided eye contact as she tried to look noncommittal. “With step one, at least. Otto wasn’t able to complete all the repairs required in the last inspection. Now I’m having trouble getting an extension. But I hear you are having your own projects—rather ambitious.”

She nodded toward the Mayor’s door and smiled warmly toward Dennis. “But I guess it doesn’t hurt to have a hard headed attorney when you’re bucking city hall.” Dennis was quick to protest. “Not really. I’m just here as a friend. Construction isn’t my bag.”

He rested his arm possessively at Consuela’s slim waist and leaned toward Faith. In a stage whisper he said, “Now she claims that I’m a distraction!”

“Excuse me, Miss Shrewsberry,” the receptionist intoned, “The mayor will see you now.” Consuela started toward the office and Dennis released her, smiling encouragement, as he turned swiftly to Faith. “How about joining me at Benito’s while Connie keeps her appointment?” Belatedly he called to the retreating Consuela, “O.K. With you, Connie?” She smiled automatically, disguising her irritation at his shortening of her name. Just nerves, she thought. I’m jumpy about everything. She gripped the thin binder she had brought to hold application forms and shrugged her shoulders. “Fine. I’ll meet you there.”

The large door swung shut behind her. As usual Mayor Montgomery Pollard had everything arranged for the maximum intimidation. Although he had instructed the receptionist to send her in, he kept reading as Consuela entered. She studied the short, once-powerfully muscled man, dwarfed behind his over-sized desk and in his over-sized executive’s chair. When he finally looked up with bloodshot eyes, she saw that his jowls were mottled with veins.