It’s debate night.
I arrive at the high school in time for a short briefing from Miss Comportment (or Marjorie. I’m never sure how to address her).
The public seats are filling up quickly. I had agreed to serve as moderator, though I’d initially intended to report the news. I didn’t have a lot of time to prepare. Fortunately, Marjorie/Miss Comportment had prepared a list of questions so as to be sure we didn’t overlook any major issues.
She’s introducing the candidates, then me. The chill in the crowd is palpable. (Why would they clap for the one who essentially brought Sheriff Paul down?)
I manage to collect myself in time for her to turn the proceedings back to me.
“Good evening and welcome to this special election debate between our candidates, realtor Shirley Scott and tourism chief Wanda Moreno.”
My nerves are dissipating.
“We are glad to have you all with us here, in the auditorium, and online via video chat. My name is Susan Cotton. I work in New York City and, after having had the pleasure of reporting from Middle Valley for a short time, graciously accepted this assignment.
“The ground rules are simple … I will pose the same question to both candidates. Each will have three minutes to respond, then one minute to answer follow-up questions. Let’s begin.”
And the rounds begin – standard-issue small-town concerns … taxes, crime, population, maintenance of public property, town growth, revenues.
I watch carefully as Wanda and Shirley volley back and forth on these issues. At one point, I glance at Miss Comportment’s crib sheet. Somewhere, there has to be some controversy.
Tourism and development, in general, are concerns that have been discussed widely, but solutions have been elusive at best. I ask the candidates to address its potential.
Wanda’s face lights up immediately.
“Picture it,” she says, gesticulating toward the audience. “A secluded hotel, restaurants, a private resort facility with no cars, no bridge, and no TV … where, you ask? Well, Nutwell Island, of course. Weddings, private parties, corporate retreats, tournaments, nature study groups … just imagine!”
I couldn’t help but notice Shirley’s face drain of its color.
She responds with a similar plan, clarifying further that the development would be handled as several private investments under city leadership. There is no significant disagreement on this subject, it seems.
But then …
Wanda looks directly at me.
“In addition,” she says, pointedly. “My administration will seek to initiate tours from downtown and Nutwell Island to the Hilltop mansion and estate. These tours would explore the history of Hilltop, Middle Valley, and everything in between.”
A bead of sweat rolls down Shirley’s face. I think I’m the only one who sees it.
“Have you discussed this plan with the current owner of the Hilltop estate, Albert Nutwell?” she asks. “Have you sought his approval of this use of his property?”
Wanda avoids the question by speaking generally about enhancing tourism in Middle Valley. She never replies, even after Shirley repeats the question.
Shirley moves on and presents ideas relating to the construction of off-campus housing in Middle Valley for students from several nearby colleges, but the fact is she’s missed her moment – and everyone in the hall knows it.
Another hour later and the debate ends. Neither candidate nor any of the media personnel recognizes Albert Nutwell’s presence at the debate. I only know he’s here Bentley met Nutwell while passing out business cards.
What a player, that Bentley. He seemed to seek me out specifically with this information. Surely, had the rest of the media known, they would have grabbed Nutwell for comment.
Nutwell appears to have an air about him, a cut above the general debate attendees. I hadn’t met him my first time here.
I approach him in the parking lot and introduce myself. An unremarkable exchange.
He agrees to meet with me for lunch at the Golden Pillar tomorrow to discuss the debate … and other things.
Quite a break, I believe. I am in Bentley’s debt and will make it a point to reciprocate.
Jenny Page