Chapter 3: Maple Heights Politics

This is Maple Heights. I grew up here.

After high school, I went out to work and earn money, then started my own herbal supplement business. Now, my business is pretty big, and I’m considered someone of status in town.

A few months ago, the main road, neglected for years, was finally up for repair. The neighbors suggested everyone chip in. As a member of the community, I took the lead and put up $150,000—covering most of the cost.

But what I didn’t expect was that after contributing so much, the road still didn’t reach my house. It’s not that I wanted special treatment just because I paid more, but this was just too much.

On the town council’s bulletin board, the new road plan was posted. The council’s weathered corkboard always had flyers tacked crooked—lost dog, church pancake breakfast, T-ball signups. Now it held the road map, the lines drawn in red Sharpie.

There was even a special note:

“Maple Heights Road Plan—public notice for seven days. If you have any opinions, please give feedback to the town council.”

What a joke.

I stared at the plan, looking it over carefully. The more I looked, the angrier I got. No wonder Dad went to argue with the town manager. If it were me, I might have started a fight.

After checking the plan, I suppressed my anger and went into the town council office.

Calling it an office was generous—it was just a small bungalow with a few tables and chairs, built just to look good for county inspections. Usually, no one came here. But today, it was crowded.

The air in the council office was thick with the smell of burnt coffee and old carpet. Someone’s kid was playing with a battered Hot Wheels car under the folding table. I could hear the squeak of those old plastic chairs as people shifted around, and feel the tension in the air—a thick, silent waiting.

“Well, everyone’s here?”

I glanced around. They were all council members, so I greeted them casually.

“Derek, you’re back? Come on, bring out your good cigarettes, let us have a taste too.”

The town manager looked up and immediately asked for cigarettes.

I took out an unopened pack of Marlboros and tossed it onto the table. Several hands shot out—within seconds, only the empty box was left. Even those who didn’t smoke took a couple.

I know all too well how these folks operate. If there’s something free and you don’t grab it, you’ll feel you’ve lost out.

“Mike, I have something to discuss with you.”

I jerked my chin at him, signaling to step outside and talk.

“Huff…”

“The council’s discussing important matters. Whatever it is, talk later.”

The town manager blew out a puff of smoke, his beady eyes darting around, making up an excuse to brush me off.

Heh, acting all high and mighty, smoking my cigarettes, not the least bit embarrassed.

“How important could it be? Let me listen in.”

I casually pulled out a chair and sat down.

“Derek…”

“The council meeting is closed to outsiders. Confidential matters, you know.”

The manager rapped the table, raising his voice. Clearly, he didn’t like me just sitting down.

“Come on, what big secrets could our town have? At most, it’s who’s getting married or who’s having a funeral. What’s so confidential about that?”

I took out a pack of Camels, lit one, and started smoking.

Honestly, these council folks eat the most and do the least, and you expect them to have secrets? The so-called secrets are always about whose wife ran off, or who’s seeing the widow—trivial stuff, less useful than a worn-out dish towel.

Everyone’s eyes instantly shifted from my face to the cigarette box. The town manager swallowed, but he hadn’t finished his Marlboro, so he couldn’t ask for another.

“Besides, according to state regulations, residents as community members have the right to attend council meetings and offer opinions.”

I cleared my throat to get everyone’s attention. Truth was, I had no idea if that was a real rule. But half the time, confidence was all you needed in Maple Heights.

“Is there such a regulation?”

The manager’s face was full of question marks, and a few people exchanged glances, but no one spoke up.

“Mike, you’ve never heard of it?”

I chuckled with disdain.

“Uh, then today’s meeting is over. Meeting adjourned!”

The manager’s face stiffened, and he slapped the table to announce the end. So all that was just nonsense?

I suddenly wanted to jump on the table and put out my cigarette on the manager’s face.

“Mike, how was the road planned? Why doesn’t it go to my house? Is my family not worthy of a road?”

Once everyone left, I sat down next to him and got straight to the point.