Page 74 of Robin and Marian
The sheriff pushed some paperwork at Robin to sign. “A few of those May baskets were delivered outside of county lines,” he said. “You care to explain that?”
Marian stilled, and as usual looked as guilty as she was. Robin hurried to answer, “No.”
“Of course not.” The sheriff pushed away from the desk and leaned back in his chair to put his feet up. “I’m not picking sides. It’s the law I’m concerned about. You understand? You’re walking on dicey territory. Don’t make me sorry for cutting you a break.”
He didn’t know the half of it. It was only yesterday that Robin thought the sheriff had been colluding with Guy, but now he realized that the man had been played for a fool as much as the rest of them. Guy had been whispering into his ear all his suspicions and the sheriff had bought them hook, line, and sinker. Tuck hadn’t found anything incriminating on the sheriff when he’d hacked Guy’s computer.
Robin leaned over and signed the papers. When he was through, the sheriff took them back, shuffled them, stamped them, and waved Robin and Marian on their way. “Don’t get into any more trouble.” He didn’t look up at them, and Robin detected a hint of emotion in the gruff command.
Taking this as a dismissal, they walked outside into the bright sun. The loud machinery from the sawmill echoed from the other side of the block. Marian beamed at the sound of it. “Scarlett said she talked to the Bertrams at the party last night,” she said. “Lionel and Natalie were already doing everything in their power to avoid selling to Guy. They said they’d hold off longer.”
So now everything rested on the crazy guy talking to the twins and Old Man Pete. They had a good chance of saving this town. Robin could feel the excitement in the air. People moved around them with purpose. The Mayfair was the next day, and with it came the hope of turning their luck around.
Robin took Marian’s hand. They’d run out of vehicles—strangely—so for now they cut through the town on their way to Elinor’s. They got as far as the lush meadow where they’d delivered the May basket to Sierra the night before. She was in the backyard outside her mobile home, pushing her child on the swing. As soon as she saw them, she set her little girl down and waddled over, holding her pregnant belly. “Robin!” she cried. “That was you last night, wasn’t it?”
He didn’t know how to take her gratitude. Before he could answer, she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. Her daughter joined her, catching his legs. “I heard what you’ve done for this town and I just want to say I’m sorry… and thank you!”
By now, he felt himself grinning he was so touched. It had been a long time since he’d been able to break through the town’s opinion of him. “Well, I heard whoever it was last night had a beautiful assistant,” he managed to say.
“Yes, but she thinks he’s far too reckless,” Marian said.
Robin played along. “Where did you hear that?”
Sierra laughed and pulled back from them. She tried to invite them in for cookies, and when she found that they were walking to Elinor’s, a ride too.
A loud truck growled behind them and Robin circled, seeing Little John’s Chevy pickup. It stopped, and the window rolled down. Robin glanced around him for any spying eyes, before Tuck poked his head through the driver’s side, looking sweaty in a dirty tank top. He’d taken to the life of a truck driver. “Hey, Robin!” He talked around a toothpick. “I got something for you.” He pulled a newspaper from the dusty bench seat in the front and handed it to him. It was theNew England Chronicle. “The story’s on the front page.”
Robin read the headline at front center. “Nottingham Mayfair: Making New England Olde Again.”
“You like that?” Tuck asked.
How was that even possible? Guy owned the paper. He looked over at a wide-eyed Marian. “Did you do this?”
Tuck looked offended. “No. You put me in charge of advertising, remember?” Yeah, but Tuck was delusional. “I just got into Guy’s email account and told the paper to do an article while I was waiting for the search engine to find all those crooked government officials.” He scowled. “Why am I yapping about this? You were there.”
Tuck was brilliant… and out of his mind! What else had he done? Robin’s eyes roved over the truck’s rusty exterior. “How’d you get Little John’s truck?”
“I fixed it. We’re just hauling some machinery from the mill to Sherwood.”
“You working for him now?”
“Yeah, he’s desperate. He’d probably hire you too. Everybody cleared out of town when they lost their homes. We don’t have enough workers to help us out with the Mayfair. It’s not looking good.”
Sierra looked horrified. “I can call my husband. He knows a lot of men who’d take jobs down here.”
“They’d have nowhere to stay,” Tuck said. “You’ve got a housing shortage here.”
And yet, they’d passed so many homes yesterday that were boarded up on property that Guy wasn’t using. Most of the workers from the sawmill had left their trailers behind—not that Guy could rent them out. By all rights, he didn’t own them. They still belonged to the people. Robin’s eyes veered to Sierra’s mobile home and he remembered what the sheriff had told her the night before. “You know, these houses areverymobile.”
“What are you saying?” Marian asked.
“Tuck, give us a ride. I have an idea.” He turned to Sierra. “Call your husband and tell him to bring those men. We’ll find a place for all of them to stay.”
After consulting with Little John, their plan went into action. The employees from the sawmill worked all day hauling their friends’ mobile homes and trailers to Sherwood Forest. They spread the news to the surrounding cities that there were jobs to be had in Nottingham and housing for everyone. Robin knew what he was doing. Little John had a Special Event Permit for Sherwood Forest—just like any carnival, circus or show, the workers could camp there, too.
Every time the sheriff came by, Robin hid while Little John produced the proper permits and paperwork to satisfy him. Then, after the coast was clear, Little John’s workers loaded in more housing. By the evening, they had set up a little village in the forest with fire pits and generators for light. The laughter of children echoed through the forest. Games and music broke out. Familiar faces drifted through the light of the fires and long-forgotten friends came to shake Robin’s good hand. It felt like one big camping trip.
It certainly solved where Robin would stay that night. Marian had come too. Elinor had sent her a storage container home that was gathering dust at her place. It reminded him of a tiny cottage—its metal siding was painted lavender and the walls inside were coated in subtle shades of cream and purple. It was a little overkill, but perfect for Marian with a hideaway bed and couch. She hauled her luggage inside while her aunt made Robin swear to stay far away from itand her nieceby pain of death. Despite the threats, he stood on the entryway, setting up the grill under the bright porch light.
