Page 103 of Grit
The woman who looked like a lawyer leaned forward. “Since the property has not changed hands since the Allen sale, all original contract provisions stand. If reasonable access is part of the sales contract, that will be honored.”
The Yokuts representative tried to speak again, but Bud Rogers cut him off. “I’m sorry, Claude, if you want another question, you’re gonna have to line up again.”
“I’m just trying to figure out what ‘reasonable access’ means to them, Bud.”
Muttering around the room.
“He’s right,” Melissa whispered. “That phrase is way open for interpretation.”
“Yeah.”
The next question came from a parent who wanted to know if the property taxes would cover all the renovations needed for the high school.
Tammy answered that one. “Yeah, they would. It’d be more than enough to cover the bill for all the plumbing. And from what I’ve seen about the development proposal, because this is a retirement community, the impact on our schools is gonna be very minimal. The people moving in aren’t going to have kids. So the schools wouldn’t get crowded.”
A general murmur of appreciation from the room.
The next person stepped up. It was Melvin Raphney, who was on the Committee to Save Jordan Valley and wearing a truly eye-searing yellow shirt.
“Has anyone answered what we’re going to do about the roads?” he asked. “I read that proposal, and what they’re talking about doesn’t seem like it would work. Who says that the farmers in Jordan Valley are going to want to sell their land to these people so they can widen the highway to four lanes? Two lanes have been fine for as long as I’ve lived here. Why do we need four lanes? Is it gonna be divided? Are people gonna be able to park along the road during wildflower season? What about traffic? Are we gonna need more traffic lights in town, because if there’s one thing I hate, it’s a—”
Bud slammed the gavel down. “Melvin, that’s your minute.” He looked at the JPR group. “Traffic?”
“All our civil impact studies have shown that the effect on traffic will be minimal,” the blond woman said to widespread muttering. “We do not anticipate a problem obtaining the land to widen the road.”
“And if they do have a problem”—a rancher spoke up from the right side—“they’ll just use the government to pressure us to sell.”
Bud banged the gavel as everyone started talking. “Kurt, that is not a question and you do not have the floor.”
“This is bullshit, Bud.”
“I don’t appreciate that kind of language!”
Tammy Barber had to stand up to quiet the room again. “Let’s settle down! Next question.”
The questions came fast and furious. People wanted to know how much the houses would cost. Could people from Oakville buy them? If there was a golf course, could they play it? What kind of restaurants would be coming in? Did the Allen ranch have enough groundwater to support two thousand houses? What about solar panels, would the houses have solar panels? Would this development raise property values in town? How much?
Melissa caught Devin’s eye about halfway through the meeting. He nodded at her and gave her a shit-eating grin. Devin thought this was going well, which worried her. Because in Melissa’s opinion, the mood of the room was not on JPR’s side. So if Devin was confident the vote would go their way… why?
“Les is being real quiet,” Cary said. “You notice that?”
“Les is always quiet.”
“But look at him.” Cary nodded toward the old man. “He knows something.”
If Devin looked smug, then Les Arthur lookedsure. The old man sat at the end of the council table, and his expression swung between mild annoyance anytime the JPR people were speaking to bemusement.
People were moving in and out of the room. Residents got in and out of line as questions were asked, presumably sitting down if someone else asked the question they wanted an answer for. And people wanted to know about everything.
What are the houses going to look like?
How much are they going to cost?
What about beekeepers?
Can we revisit the dispensary idea before we build houses?
What about the fire department? Would we need a new station?
