Page 30 of The Dreidl Disaster

This was going to be an interesting night.

Chapter Eleven

Liv needed toadmit she was concerned about the meeting; whether it was actually the meeting she was concerned about or how the residents would react to the prospect of having the opportunity to yell at the fixer, she couldn’t decide.

Thefixer.

Notherfixer.

No matter what had been said at her town house the night before.

Of course as she headed down Ash and Judith’s driveway, she checked her email and saw a message from Burton Squires. Subject wasemergency, and in his very typical language, he informed her that:the ‘Special Session of the Briarwood Town Board’ had become an event larger than town hall could hold and is now being held at Briarwood High School.

Many people wanted to participate. Which was fine.

But that wasn’t all. Liv went on to read:

I should warn you that something is brewing. There are concerns about the fixer that derive from the Chamber of Commerce; they seem to feel his motives aren’t correct and wish to discuss it with him. In person.

Which…

There were many thoughts she had, but there was nothing she could do. Except to call him.

Him…the fixer.

Artur.

Instead of dialing, she searched through her calls list to a number she’d called with a 917 area code.

Three rings.

“Hello?” he said. “Artur Rabinovitch speaking.”

He was driving; she could hear the telltale sound of the road. “Mayor Nachman,” she said. “Where are you right now?”

“Route nine,” he replied. “Between Rivertown and Briarwood, closer to the Briarwood side of it; I’m through Hollowville, heading into North Hollowville. What’s going on?”

Relief filled her; he wasn’t that far away, thankfully. “I want to make sure you come to Briarwood High School’s back parking lot.”

There was a long pause, and she wanted to know what he was thinking. “Any particular part of the lot?”

He didn’t sound shaken or thrown off by the change of location. “Just pull as close as you can to the building.”

“I can do that.” And then the silence. “Any particular reason why?”

She decided to give him the barest piece of basic information. “It’s probably easier for you to get to the auditorium from the back parking lot. The campus is a bit confusing,” she replied. “So I’m sending you to the closest lot.”

Not to mention, his car was flashy enough to be noticed; the last thing she wanted was egg all over some expensive paint job.

“Sounds good.”

He didn’t question her; she wasn’t used to that. “You should also be prepared for the fact that the list of people wanting to speak about the festival is not only longer than the town hall could accommodate comfortably but is also steadily growing.”

“Okay.” She thought he was done, but then he spoke again. “I expected there would be a great deal; things were bad enough for me to come in here in the first place, not to mention the reactions of people when they saw me in town by myself. I’ll be there shortly.”

And when he ended the call, she didn’t feel reassured. She felt nervous, not for herself, but for him.

Why?

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