The Prospect by Eliot Parker (e novels to read online txt) 📕

the initiative and suggested hanging peach, orange, and brown colored streamers across the walls and interconnect them with the trusses hanging from the warehouse ceiling. Hanging those streamers was quite an undertaking; it could not have been accomplished without Phil and Frank volunteering to scale a ladder and hang them.
“S…s…so F…Frank, y…you are going to t…t…take care of p…parking. M…m…mayor, I want you to man…manage the refreshments t…t…table and Phil y…y…you can take care of the m…m…music and I will h…handle any p…problems.” Ryan’s cheeks were fuchsia and his lips quivered as he spoke.
“Why do I have to manage the refreshments table?” asked the mayor in a shocked and pitiful tone of voice.
Frank Miller leaned back and peered under the table at Morton’s protruding stomach. “Sounds to me like a good pick,” he chuckled, drawing a sinister laugh from Phil Rodney as well.
The mayor scowled and looked away from the group.
Olivia sat in a seat on the far side of the table, just away from the rest of the group. Leaning forward, wringing her hands, she barely heard any of the discussion or Ryan’s instructions. All she could think about was Shane and how stately he looked during the championship game.
She knew that Shane had tried to reach her. Phil Rodney admitted that Shane had tried to call her house on several occasions using the telephone in the back room of the department store. Olivia would also peer out of the living room window, watching Shane as he purposefully approached her house, ring the doorbell, banging on the door, and call out her name.
Now, Olivia sat without Shane close by. Olivia’s black sequin dress was low-cut in the front and a bit snug around her waist. However, the dress was cool on her skin, and even though September had arrived in Sheaville, the heat and humidity always lingered well into the middle of the month.
Frank saw Olivia sitting in a sullen, slumbered position in the chair and walked over to greet her. “You’re the prettiest lady and you look so sad.”
Olivia let a strangled smile fall from her face. “Thanks, Mr. Miller. It feels funny being surrounded by everything and soon everyone in town and yet feel lonely.”
“Well, I bet I can figure who’s causing that empty feeling in your stomach. He will come your way. Be ready for it.”
She rolled her shoulders. “We had a fight. Or rather, Shane’s mom and I did. When I thought I was doing the right thing and he defended her and told me to leave his house. That hurt. That really hurt. He did not apologize for anything or say anything to me other than leave.”
Frank scratched a thatch of his hair while pulling up a seat next to Olivia.
“Ah, gotta be easy on him. It was a good season for him and the Loggers, the best one this town has seen in a while. You know, Shane did what he was supposed to do. He came here to help the team win, and by golly, he did it. Through it all, he did it. And you know something…he’s gonna do it for you too.”
Frank softly placed his left hand on Olivia’s dress, near her abdomen. Smiling warmly, he added, “and this one too.”
“It’s just so hard.”
“Anything in life worth having’s that way.”
“Well, that doesn’t make it any easier.”
Frank bobbled his head in agreement. “There’s not shortcuts in life neither. Sometimes we’d like them, but then a choice is needed. Which path do you choose? Both of your paths had different turns, but they came together.”
Olivia listened, but her brow furrowed at Frank’s last statement. “That sounds like a sentence from a Hallmark card.”
“We have them on sale, two fer a dollar this week.”
Olivia chuckled. Frank stood up. “I’d better get a movin.’ Chin up. He will come when he’s ready for you. Remember, be ready.”
As time passed, the guests began filing into the warehouse. Some Sheaville residents came in couples, others decided coming along was fine. Immediately, all sets of eyes fixated on the decorations and how the warehouse resembled a grand ballroom. The instrumental music in the background was a light and sprightly, and some immediately took to the dance floor in the center of the warehouse.
Morton relished another opportunity as the mayor of Sheaville to exhibit the perfect mix of graciousness and candor in greeting guests. Having been a Sheaville public figure during an election year before taught the mayor that every interaction with constituents was helpful.
Soon chatter, laughter, and a dull hum engulfed the Sheaville Fall Festival had commenced.
Before the guests become fragmented into different social circles throughout the warehouse, Phil Rodney glided his way through the crowds to the microphone located at the north end of the building.
Dressed in a tan sports coat with navy slacks, Phil pecked the microphone lightly with his left index finger. The microphone emanated a loud thump that reverberated throughout the warehouse.
“Good evening ladies and gentlemen,” he said proudly. “Welcome to the annual Sheaville Fall Fesitval.”
The crowd, now turning their attention forward to the microphone, clapped and cheered loudly.
“Before we continue, we need to recognize the hard work of some folks who made this event possible.”
One by one, Ryan, Morton, Olivia, Frank, Chaz, and Jack Busby were called to the microphone. Greeted by soft applause, they all grinned and posed for a picture.
Phil once again spoke. “Now, I would like to call up the manager of your Sheaville Loggers, Walter Mann.”
The audience roared with applause. Walter sauntered his way to the front of the room, blushing slightly. His aqua blue dress shirt and white slacks with tennis shoes exemplified comfort over casual dress. Since Walter was never comfortable speaking in front of groups of people, he spoke softly and timidly, while giving Phil a frustrated glance.
“Thank ya. I just want to say how proud I am of our kids and what they did this year. It ain’t easy, a baseball season. But, the ABA baseball title belongs to you, Sheaville. Thank ya!”
Walter quickly looked for the fastest escape from the microphone as the cheers and applause made the steel trusses in the warehouse waiver slightly. Phil patted Walter on the back and the manager exchanged handshakes with Ryan and Chaz before disappearing into the audience.
In one swift pivot, Phil wrapped right cheek around the microphone handle. “Thank you again for coming. Enjoy the evening.”
As the music once again began playing, Olivia dispersed from the group and was frantically looking for Shane. One side of the room featured a few townspeople enjoying Jack Busby’s appetizers. On the far right side of the room, near the microphone and speaker sound system, Mabel Hugart was whispering something into another woman’s ear as she listened intently. Her father was still standing in the middle of the room greeting the guests. But Shane was no where to be seen.

XXXX
Shane clumsily slipped a set of brown Allen-Edmonds shoes over his feet, while balancing himself along the hillside leading to the warehouse.
Grunting and cursing under his breath, he could feel the soles of his feet damp with sweat.
“Damn shoes,” he groaned.
“Those shoes are name brand honey and Phil Rodney gave those to you as a present for winning that award. You should be appreciative of the gift,” Joann Triplet said, walking alongside her son.
“I am grateful mamma, but God, these shoes are tight and heavy.”
“Compared to what you wear to play baseball, I’m sure they are. I am just glad that you invited me as your date tonight. I do not get out too much anymore.”
Shane finally got both shoes on and he cradled the replaced tennis shoes under his arm. “Mamma, Jack’s going to be here tonight. I think you two should talk about your job.”
Joann bit her lower lip. “He will not hire me back. I know Jack. He’s loyal but he can hold a grudge if you’ve earned it.”
Shane and Joann reached a small plateau just outside of the warehouse. Shane stopped walking. Joann took a few more steps before realizing Shane was behind her. She stopped walking forward and backpedaled. She looked astonishing. Joann’s thick red hair was lying softly past her back while her light pink skirt and top revealed an hourglass figure that was often hidden under a waitress uniform. Joann’s skin was bright and full of color.
Shane’s eyes expressed concern. They resembled a still blue lake that had just been disturbed by the wind. “Mamma, that job gave you purpose, gave you something to do. I know you liked it, even though you say you didn’t. What’s the worst Jack can say if you ask?”
“No,” Joann replied tersely.
Shane felt his heart flutter as he began walking towards the warehouse.
“I do not know if I can go back here, Shane, your father…”
“I know Mamma. We talked about this, remember. We cannot let what happened to dad here bog us down. Dad would not want that for us. So let’s go in and have a good time, okay?
Frank Miller and Ryan Head approached the couple. “S…s…Shane, g…good to see you and hello M…M…Mrs. Triplet.”
Joann did a slight curtsey maneuver towards Ryan. Joann smirked at Frank.
“Frank, I never thanked you for making sure I got the help I needed in Charleston and for checking on me and just doing everything out of your way to help me.” Her eyes softened as she spoke.
Frank raised the trademark sun visor over his forehead. “Well, that’s what you do for people you care about.” Frank looked at Shane and winked.
“She’s doing better guys, really.” Shane reached out and softly touched Joann’s shoulder. “Mamma is going to take her medicine everyday and follow the doctor’s orders everyday. Right Mamma?”
Joann widened her stance and placed her right hand on her hip. “Yes, and I am not going to let mental illness ruin my life.”
“Good for both of ya,” Frank said, approvingly.
“B…better get inside…t…t…party’s already s…started.” Ryan’s stuttering appeared very problematic for him this evening. Shane knew that meant that Ryan was probably nervous.
Shane wrapped his arm around Joann and proceeded inside. When they entered the warehouse, there senses were awash in fragrances, fresh food, music and dancing. Pockets of people doing different things were scattered throughout the floor, resembling ink blotches on a sheet of paper.
“Honey, I’m thirsty. Want something to drink?”
“No, Mamma. I’m fine.”
Shane surveyed the floor. Frank Miller was dancing with Mabel Hugart, Phil Rodney was talking with Ruth Busby, and Chaz was pacing in circles throughout the warehouse. During one loop, he stepped on Shane’s foot, placing a faded, dusty print on the toe of the Allen-Edmonds shoes.
“Watch it Chaz. Those shoes are expensive!” Shane yelped, feeling a pain run through his right toe.
“Ah, don’t worry about it. There is no pune-tang here anyway, unless you like old women.” Chaz’s voice was downtrodden and disappointed. “Hey, there is someone hear that has been looking for you.”
“Olivia?” Shane asked curiously.
“Bingo,” Chaz replied.
Shane’s mouth twisted as he ran his hand through his hair. “Common Trip, go and talk to her,” Chaz said emphatically.
“She does not want to talk to me. If she did, she would have done it by now.”
“That’s the thing about people and relationships. Nobody wants the job of speaking first. Take it from someone who has seen plenty of relationships, communication is the key.”
Shane smiled. “Is that why you main unconditionally single?”
“That and for other reasons.”
Olivia was standing near the refreshments table when Shane noticed her. She looked back as Shane’s eyes peeled away. Olivia did not react. Instead, she turned her head around.
Chaz began