When the car slowly motored up the main street, all of Three Corners’ held their breath.
A complete package of perfection; in symmetry, colour and trend.
The young gentleman who drove, steered with a knowing smile, aware of the attention and basked in the warmth of a collective stare.
He slowly reversed into the angled space directly outside The Cake Hole Cafe, with the confident knowledge of the inherently lucky, that a close park was his due.
With the same languid energy with which he drove up the street, he swiveled in his seat to alight. A warm and perfect summer day, the dappled sun glinted gloriously off his golden locks, complemented by a cheeky smile and come-hither stare that made the local women blush, and the men contemplate a different set of ideas. He flirted outrageously with anyone in his path as he sauntered down the main street talking to one and all.
A clear look here, a firm handshake there, a whitened wide smile to all…
Yes, the new Real Estate Agent had arrived in town.
Not for him the suits of old. More a calculated and casual Country Road appearance.
He radiated goodwill, kindness, keenness.
He was there to woo.
To turn Three Corners into a mecca for the corporate hippies and tree-changers, fly in and fly outs, and those with the money to spend on an idyllic acreage retreat, where they could boast of running livestock… Chickens… And eating organically… Scrumping the next-door neighbours’ apples that overhang the fence…. And getting close to the earth… Directing their landscape designers…
This was going to be his masterpiece.
Manicured and groomed he unleashed the full force of his personality on Three Corners…
Perhaps the results would have been a little different, had the wind not barreled down Main Street like its very own personalised hurricane and lifted his remarkable locks from his head, in one magnificent swoop.
Freed from his scalp the wig took a life of its own, flying freely through the Saturday crowds, kissing cheeks, tickling noses, being chased by dogs, dragging their owners, until it finally rested in the old pine tree and hung publicly, though no less precariously, on the head of the Christmas Angel.
Right at the very top.