Free Road to Nowhere by Paul Robertson Page A

always saying just what he needed to hear.
    “I’m wondering more about why I wanted to be on this board. After four years, you’d think I’d learn. But I went and got myself elected again last November and now I’ve got another four years. What was I thinking?”
    “You were thinking you could do some good.”
    “Then I was sorely mistaken. Everett Colony was in my office for forty minutes this afternoon and I don’t believe I spoke a dozen words.” He rubbed his head. “I think I’ll take an aspirin.”
    “I’ll get it for you.”
    “Thank you. Where are Kyle and Kelly?”
    “They’re at the high school. They went over for a club meeting and they’ll stay for the basketball game.”
    For a moment the picture of a high school gymnasium came to his mind, filled to overflowing with hundreds of fans all screaming at the top of their lungs. His head throbbed.
    “Here’s your aspirin and some water.”
    “That’s just perfect,” he said, “and now I believe I’ll sit here and enjoy the quiet.”
    “Let me know whenever you’d like your dinner.”
    “I’ll do that.” Randy opened his eyes to watch the fire, which was very soothing. A few more minutes and it seemed that maybe the aspirin was helping, too. Dinner was even starting to appeal to him a bit.
    He looked over toward the dining room, and wasn’t that sweet. Sue Ann had their two places set with her mother’s china. She must have been thinking they’d be just the two of them with the children out for the night, and she’d probably made up a nice supper.
    “Here I come, dear. I think I’m about recovered and I’m suddenly real hungry.”
    “I have a roast for you.”
    “I don’t want to keep it waiting.”
    But it wouldn’t have been a real dinner without the telephone ringing, and so it did. Randy sat down next to it and picked it up.
    “Randy McCoy, can I help you?”
    “Randy, it’s Louise.”
    That probably wouldn’t be too bad. “Well, good evening. What can I do for you?”
    “I just heard some news and I thought I’d pass it on around the board. Byron says that Roland Coates told them all today that he was selling the furniture factory.”
    “Selling it? Good gravy.” One little throb in his temple reminded him that his headache might be gone for the moment, but it was not far away. “What’s that going to mean?”
    “Well, I don’t know. It might not mean anything at all. And, now, I’ve only heard it through Byron. I don’t think that counts for being official.”
    “If they shut it down, there’s a hundred fifty people out of work, and half the school budget gone.”
    “No one’s said they’re going to close the factory,” Louise said.
    “Well, if they don’t, that means no end to the traffic and trucks through Mountain View.”
    “It’s one way or the other, Randy.”
    “I guess it has to be. What will the neighbors think?”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Wade set the phone down. “That was Louise. The plant in Wardsville, the furniture place. The guy is selling it.”
    Cornelia had two steaming crocks of onion soup on the table. “So?”
    “So? This is New York selling the Statue of Liberty.”
    “Whoever buys it, maybe they’ll clean it up. Why is it way back there by the high school, anyway?”
    “I think it was there first, before they built the school. I don’t know. It won’t matter to us.” He shrugged. “I guess.”
    “No one in Gold Valley works there.”
    “No. All people from Wardsville and Marker and Coble.” The soup had cooled off enough to eat. “But it’s all one county. I told you the newspaper guy came to the office?”
    “Last week.”
    “So I bought a copy to read.”
    “How bad was it?”
    “Worse than I figured. I’m pushing the road for my own profit and I don’t care about anyone else.”
    Cornelia gave him a big sympathetic smile. “That’s not true.”
    “I guess not. Hey, I forget. Where was Lauren tonight?”
    “At school. At a basketball