Mark Schweizer - Liturgical 12 - The Cantor Wore Crinolines Read Free

the sidewalk, in the street, and the crowd overflowed into Sterling Park. Sterling Park, this time of year, was pretty bleak. The hardwoods that shaded the three acre park were bare. The holiday decorations were gone except for a dead Christmas wreath and a couple of strings of burnt out lights dangling from the top of the gazebo. On top of that, the gazebo hadn’t been painted for a couple of years and was sorely in need of a fresh coat. The grass was mostly sparse and brown. Even the snow had turned to gray slush. The hundred or so people treading what was left of the grass waiting for the auction to begin were quickly turning the lawn into a quagmire of muck. No one seemed worried about it. By spring, it’d be beautiful again.
    Cynthia was up at the top of the steps talking to Matthew Aaron, the city attorney. She had a clipboard and was busily writing. The town clerk, Monica Jones, was sitting at a small table off to the side completing some paper work. Nancy was standing beside her, arms folded, a no nonsense look on her face. Kathleen Carson was making her way through the crowd handing out flyers containing all the pertinent real estate facts. I looked at my copy.
    Three houses were listed, along with some basic information that anyone could find by doing an on-line search — address, square footage, zoning, encumbrances, previous purchase price, tax value — accompanied by a grainy black and white photocopy of the front of the house. I scanned the list quickly. No liens or mortgages on any of the houses. That was a surprise.
    At ten o’clock sharp, Cynthia walked up to the microphone.
    “Okay,” she said. “Quiet please.”
    The crowd settled down and waited expectantly.
    Cynthia flipped through some papers on her clipboard, then settled on one and read it aloud.
    “In accordance with the town charter, this auction is held by the township of St. Germaine to recover unpaid assessments. The town is foreclosing on the back taxes that are owed. No preregistration for this auction is required, however, if you wish to bid on any property and you haven’t already registered with the clerk, you need to do so at this time. If you are from out of town, you will need to leave a certified check with the clerk in the amount of one thousand dollars. This will be returned to you in the case of an unsuccessful bid. If you’re from here, we know who you are and where you live.”
    Laughter from the crowd, and five people made their way up to the table and stood in line while Monica took their information.
    “Here are the terms of sale,” continued Cynthia. “Now pay attention, cause I’m not going to repeat myself. If you bid on one of these here houses, and you win, you are legally responsible for the bid. The town requires a ten percent down payment today and that payment has to be cash or certified check.”
    “We’ve heard all this before,” yelled a voice. “We know how it works.”
    “It’s freezing out here!” called another. “Get started already!”
    “Just to be clear,” said Cynthia, “so I don’t have to throw anyone in jail. If you bid fifty thousand dollars for the house and you win, you give us a certified check for five thousand dollars or five thousand in cash right after the auction. This morning. By noon. The balance is due in thirty days. You don’t pay the balance in thirty days, we keep your deposit and go again.”
    “What if I ain’t got five thousand dollars cash?” yelled Skeeter Donalson. “Is this auction just for you rich folks?”
    “Yes, Skeeter,” said Cynthia. “This auction is just for us rich folks, so you go on home now.”
    More laughs from the crowd. Skeeter folded his arms and made a face.
    “As you know,” continued Cynthia, now off script, “the company that owned these houses is bankrupt in North Carolina and the properties are being sold ‘as is.’ The city is going to make an opening bid for the amount owed in taxes, so don’t go getting all mad and