Sacrifice of Buntings Read Online Free Page B

Paul?”
    Becker jabbed the cover of the program with his finger. “We had a deal. I was supposed to have the Saturday keynote slot, and then I open up this to discover you’ve listed me on Friday and given my slot to Saxby.”
    The man named Evan paled. “Look, Paul, the committee felt—”
    “Don’t give me that crap,” Becker said. “You’re the conference coordinator. It’s your decision.”
    “Unfortunately, the committee—”
    Becker threw down the booklet. “I’m the headliner this year. I’m the draw. Either I speak on Saturday night or you can take me off the program.”
    “You don’t mean that.”
    “By God, I do.”
    A small group of volunteers had gathered, including Saxby, who must have been in the back.
    “What’s going on here?” he Rachel asked.
    “You know damn well what’s going on,” Becker responded, spinning around to face him. “For some unfathomable reason, you’ve been given my keynote slot.”
    Saxby looked at Evan.
    The man raised up his bony arms. “The commit—”
    “Screw the committee,” Becker hollered. “You promised me Saturday night when you brought me on board. Do you intend to honor the agreement or not?”
    Evan tented his fingers and pressed them against his lips. After what seemed an interminable time, he lowered them to a prayer position. “You’re right, Paul. I did promise you the slot. But—” He raised his hand to silence Becker. “That was before we brought Guy on board. Once he had agreed to attend, the committee ”—he stressed the word—“felt that Saturday night should be his. I’m sorry, but it’s out of my hands.”
    “Then I’m gone.”
    “Hold on a minute,” Saxby said, stopping Becker midway to the door. Reaching out, he laid a hand on Becker’s arm. Becker sloughed it off.
    “Paul, listen to me,” Saxby said. “There are a lot of people looking forward to hearing you speak. You can’t just leave. What does is matter if you speak Friday or Saturday? The turnout is always the same.”
    “Then you take Friday.”
    There was a collective gasp, and the entire room full of people seemed to suck in their breath.
    The silence stretched.
    Saxby’s eyes narrowed, and he worked his jaw.
    Becker waited, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Well?”
    “Why not?” Saxby said. “Like I said, Friday or Saturday, what does it matter?”
    “It matters to me,” Becker replied.
    Based on Saxby’s expression, Rachel figured it mattered to him too. But what could he do after making a statement saying the night didn’t matter?
    “What do you say, Evan?” Saxby asked. “The programs and brochures are already printed. I’m afraid it might upset the commit—”
    “Ah, to hell with the committee,” Evan said. “I’ll just announce the change, and we can slip something into the packets.” Evan clapped him on the shoulder. “This is extremely generous of you, Guy.”
    “Yes,” Becker said. “ Generous .”
    His sarcasm didn’t escape any of them, and Dorothy was still fuming a few minutes later when they were back at the car.
    “What a horrible man!”
    “Now, Dot,” Cecilia scolded. “You don’t know why he wanted the Saturday-night slot. For all you know, he may have a very good reason.”
    “Such as wanting the limelight?”
    Now who was being sarcastic? Rachel bit down on her lip.
    “I know bad behavior when I see it,” Dorothy continued. “Someone needs to teach that young man some manners.”
    “Who was he, anyway?” Lark asked, flipping backward through the pages of her program. “He must have a bio in here somewhere.”
    “If he’s a keynote speaker, it should be near the front,” Rachel said, starting the car and backing out of the parking slot.
    Lark stopped flipping.
    “It says here that ’Paul Becker is a wildlife research biologist for the University of Georgia,’” she read. “’A graduate of the university, he worked with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service for twelve years before