“They weren’t here moments ago. Where are all their cars?” Abby muttered as she pulled out her cell phone and snapped a picture. “They must have arrived in a bus.” Mila’s phone buzzed seconds later. Abby had sent a town text asking who these people were. Soon her phone was buzzing constantly.
“Are they being handed signs?” Mila asked as she squinted down the alley.
“I can’t see them very well. But they’re all young, probably around twenty or so, right?” Abby asked.
“Maybe some college students are here to see the summit?” Mila wondered as she watched them. She paused, and Abby and she both looked at each other.
“Protesters,” they said together.
The sound of motors roaring toward them from all direction had Mila ducking in her seat. “Don’t worry, our reinforcements are ready.”
Mila sat back up and looked around. Miss Lily, Miss Daisy, and Miss Violet were hanging out of their ATV with two other older women. “Who are they?” Mila asked.
“Betsy Ashton, Will’s mother, and Marcy Davies, the mother of, well, all the Davies kids. I forgot they meet Wednesday mornings for coffee and gossip.”
Abby rolled down her window as the ATV skidded to a stop an inch from her door. Behind the ATV rolled a familiar large car with Anton behind the wheel. A minivan rounded a corner on two wheels behind them.
“That’s Pam Gilbert. She used to be the head of the PTA until her sons grew up,” Abby said, gesturing to the minivan flying up behind them. “Ah, and there’re the Rooneys.”
Mila looked up at the luxury sedan speeding down the street toward them. “Is it just me or is the car shimmering?” Mila asked.
“Yup. Henry had it painted to match his suits. He must have been a snake oil salesman or a mobster in a previous life. Can’t really decide which one. But if he was a mobster, he was definitely more of a Fredo.”
Mila watched as he got out of the car. The sun shined down on him, and Mila had to shield her eyes. “I see what you mean about the suits.”
“That’s his wife, Neely Grace, and his daughter, Addison. Let’s go have a little chat. I’ll let Miles know we’ve hit a snag.”
Abby spoke into her comms as they got out. Mila walked around the car and saw Miss Daisy gleefully tapping the palm of her hand with a wooden spoon. Miss Lily was sliding on a pair of gloves when she looked up and smiled. “Good morning, dearie. Will got me a pair of these gloves from his football team. They’re the type those receivers use to grip the ball better. I’ll deliver a good whack of my broom with these babies on.”
Miss Violet held up her spatula and then looked at the crowd of young people coming toward them chanting “Nan—NO-tech.”
“I think I need bigger ammo,” Miss Violet murmured. “Betsy dear, hand me the crêpe pan.”
Mrs. Davies shook her head. “What a horrible chant. No originality. Oh hi, Mila, I’m Marcy. It’s so lovely to finally meet you,” called out the woman in the black slacks, bun in her gray hair, and bright yellow cardigan over her shoulders.
“This is going to be great. Just like back in the day with those hippies.” Miss Lily tested her grip on the broom.
Mila blinked. She didn’t have words. Then she didn’t have vision either when she was suddenly blinded. “We haven’t even met yet and you’re already blinded by love,” a masculine southern voice said from somewhere behind the light.
Mila shielded her eyes with her hands and took in the leather loafers and the shiny silver suit. The man was handsome for an older man. But his smile was an unusual mix of playfulness and sleaze. Mila flinched when she felt water drops hitting her suddenly.
“Bad!” Henry’s daughter reprimanded. Mila was hit with water again.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I get you wet?”
Mila wiped her face with her hand and looked at the classy young woman with her mother’s brunette hair and her father’s sharp cheekbones. She was stunning. Then she saw the spray bottle in her hand.
“Sorry. I’m Addison and this is my father, Henry Rooney, and my mother, Neely Grace. I’m trying to break my father of his pick-up line habit.”
Mila snickered. “You’re using a spray bottle?”
Addison shrugged. “The flirt jar didn’t work. Bridget Mueez said this worked on dogs, so I thought it was worth a shot.”
A woman with hair lightened by age, wearing perfectly creased khaki pants and a pink polo, came hurrying up. “What’s the game plan? Who are these people? Hi, Mila.”
“Hi.” At this point, Mila was debating on the possibility that aliens had abducted her and were messing with her mind. Who were these people?
“I’m Pam Gilbert. Nice to meet you. Now, what are we going to do about these protesters? We can’t let them get to the farm, and we can’t let the media see them either.”
“We need to block the roads. The media are already on their way from Lexington,” the rounded John Wolfe informed them as he slowly got out of the car with Anton.
Betsy snapped her fingers. “I’ll have a horse van break down and block the road.” Betsy pulled out her phone to make it happen.
“We can block them in by our law office,” Neely said. “There’s no access back to the road. We block the road there and they can’t get out of town unless they walk all the way around.”
“The farm is four miles from town,” Abby said. “They’re on the move now and I don’t see any cars. That’s what I noticed first. I think they want the media to cover them marching to the summit. If they leave now, which they are doing, then they would get to the farm about thirty minutes before the summit begins.”
“In my day, we used to distract them with pot brownies. They usually forgot what they were protesting then,” Marcy told them.
“I have brownies. Does anyone have any pot?” Miss Lily asked.
“We’d better hurry and block the road. They’re getting close to turning on the road,” Pam said, ignoring the pot question and hurrying to her minivan. She revved the engine, and tires smoked as she peeled out.
“We’ll block the alley!” Henry called as his family rushed to their car.
“Miss Lily, park behind Pam. I’ll use this car to help her block the road and then Mila and I will take the ATV to the farm.”
“Right. See if anyone there has any pot,” Miss Lily called out, speeding down the street.
“Do not worry, ma chérie,” Anton winked as Abby started the car. “I have pastries for the conference in the back of the car. I’ll tempt them with those. I’ve never known a college student who could resist free food.”
“He does have a point.” Abby smiled to Mila as she maneuvered her car half onto the sidewalk and half on the street. Anton crept forward and parked in such a way that his one car blocked the whole street ahead of Pam and Abby. “Come on, we have to hurry.”
Mila jumped out of the car with Abby and shouted her thanks to the group of Keenestonites setting up to help them. Mila slid onto the seat of the ATV and held onto the steel frame.
“Since I don’t have to stick to the roads, we can take a shortcut I know,” Abby smiled as she put the pedal to the floor.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Zain stood behind his father and mother as they watched a video update from Dirar on Fatima’s condition. Mo was pale. Dani wrung her hands and her lips were thin with worry. Zain’s fear had turned into boiling anger. Someone had hurt an innocent old woman. They had also torn the heart out of his parents and uncle. Jamal was shaking as he paced waiting for news. And then they got it. Fatima had required stitches on her upper arm. Other than mild signs of shock, she was in good shape. Her bodyguard, however, was still in surgery fighting for his life. The palace had released no statements about the queen mother’s situation. They had wanted the person who ordered the assassination to believe it had worked.
“I’ll kill her!” Dirar shouted. “Bring her to me immediately. I don’t care if you have to drag her kicking and screaming onto the plane, but Suri will pay for this with her life.”