by Patti Larsen
Regardless, if Olivia thought she had an edge, I was happy to back her play.
I wasn’t a fan of debates. I hated listening to people argue. Thus my choice to hang out in the back of the hall, away from the podiums set up on the stage. The last time I’d been here had been to witness the sadly hilarious junior high rendition of a fairy tale one of the teachers adapted into a debacle of horrific morality that made me laugh as much as cringe. And, from the way Geoffrey was preening in the corner, this next performance against Olivia wasn’t going to make me feel much better.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” Olivia took the stage with her typical mayoral smile, nodding to everyone as the last supporter left. Oliver Watters shuffled his speech in his hands as he departed, the grumpy old historian no longer so grumpy now that he had his grandson, Denver, in his life. Still, he looked distinctly irritated by the buzzing crowd and I wondered if anyone even remembered a word he said. Shame on me, I hadn’t been listening either, had I? “We have a very special guest with us tonight, showing his support for our town and our initiatives.” Who did she have in her pocket? The gathering murmured their surprise as she went on. “Please give a warm Reading welcome to Senator Adrian Winterton.”
Ah. That made sense. As Adrian appeared from behind the wings, smiling and waving, I felt myself relax fully. Even as the crowd, their animosity forgotten, applauded him with enthusiasm. He was, after all, a war hero, right? Came from our area, if not Reading itself. And had a track record for backing the little guy. The perfect supporter for Olivia. A glance at Geoffrey told me he wasn’t expecting Adrian’s appearance and, as he hissed at Robert, my cousin’s flinching surprise told me Geoffrey relied on the wrong person to have his back.
Sucker.
Adrian’s speech was eloquent and enthusiastic, his voice even more hypnotic than Olivia’s. I barely remember what he said, to be honest, caught up in the flow and cadence of his words. Challenging words like, “success” and “power” and “economy” melded with “brilliance” and “community” and “prosperity” until he had everyone in the hall hanging on his very deep voice.
But his final line hung with me, as, I suppose, it was meant to. “Citizens of Reading, Vermont,” he said at last, “the cutest town in America, I ask you—who better to carry you forward into the future, to deliver your message of a beautiful, peaceful, relaxed vacation experience, to the world?” He didn’t say her name. He didn’t have to. All he had to do was turn and smile at Olivia. And start clapping.
The room erupted into applause while she nodded graciously, her own smile generous, kindly, mothering as Adrian artfully delivered up their savior to them in a neat, power package.
Have you ever noticed it’s hard to stay cynical while you’re grinning your face off?
Adrian left the stage to her, making his way down the center aisle. Yes, he held some attention with his exit, but they were hers and she knew it, her opening speech commencing with the powerful and commanding tone and words that mimicked his so well I wondered if they’d written them together.
Instead of focusing on her, I gestured to him, surprised when he smiled and joined me, head down, nodding to the few people who waved and applauded him before returning their attention to Olivia.
“Miss Fleming,” Adrian said. “I heard you’d recovered. I hope you’re well?”
He sounded concerned enough, authentic, so I took him at his word. “Fine,” I rasped. “Or I will be.” He nodded in response. “Nice speech,” I said. “Olivia have something on you?” I meant it as a joke, but he flinched. Actually twitched like I’d struck a nerve, before his smile came back. Even as I remembered Olivia’s reaction to Geoffrey at the retreat house, her observation of Adrian and her request for a talk with the senator in private.
Something to do with her opponent, then? More secrets, awesome. Whatever it was, it carried the kind of weight she’d needed to get this popular senator on her side and, if the shift in the crowd’s mood was any indication, win her back her own public opinion.
“Happy to support such a forward thinking powerhouse as Mayor Walker,” he said. “We need more dynamic leaders like her in our fair state. Don’t you agree?”
Whatever. “Sure, if you say so.” I let him go as he begged off, hurrying away, out the doors and into the November evening. Even as I stared at Olivia, annoyed by the sneakiness and backroom finagling. I’d find out what she was up to eventually.
Dad appeared next to me, moving so quietly and quickly I actually jumped when I realized he was there. His big hand settled on my shoulder and he nodded for me to join him. I followed when he exited, finding Crew waiting on the steps. I zipped up my coat and tucked in under his arm, his cheek resting on the top of my head a moment before he straightened again, though he didn’t let me go.
This I could get used to.
“The Blackstone lawyers are gone.” Dad seemed agitated by that. “Sounds like they are selling the property.”
“To whom?” What was that itch I needed to scratch suddenly?
“Frieda.” Dad’s teeth flashed in a grin that was more feral snarl than humor. “With help from Jared Wilkins.”
Grunt. I’d be asking my young friend about it, make no mistake.
“Alicia’s already talked to your mother,” Dad went on. “She wants to convert it into a spa. Wants the two of you to join the enterprise.” He didn’t sound opposed, just cautious. Meanwhile, my acquisitiveness turned feral and I found myself planning out the revamp of the space even as my mind shrieked at me I’d lost my marbles out there in the woods. Maybe a slow spiral into insanity was a symptom I needed to look out for? Dr. Aberstock did say there might be complication show up later.
“Caleb Wells confessed to everything,” Dad went on. “And from what I hear, Eddie Mauer was arrested for theft in three separate jurisdictions. Been making a habit of benefiting from the hard work of others.”
Crew nodded. “Turns out this plan of his wasn’t his first kick at theft. He’ll go down for fraud and embezzlement at his last few jobs.”
I wondered how much of that he’d learned from Ryan or if the two of them fed off each other. Maybe they should have been dating. Seemed like a match made in heaven to me. Snort.
“I hear Dan Robles is starting a wildlife sanctuary,” Crew said. “Taking in injured animals? Going to turn it into a visitor’s center.”
Good for him. That was one tourist attraction I’d be visiting regularly just for the feel goods. “Frieda agreed to help, even,” Dad said. “Something about promoting healthy nature management practices. I think it has more to do with the two of them reconciling. They worked together far too long to let his change of heart ruin their relationship.”
He actually sounded sad. Well, he’d known them both a long time, right? Hard to see friends at odds. Speaking of which, I really had to finish my conversation with Daisy.
“I’m just happy to see word’s gotten out about Geoffrey backing the wrong horse.” Crew sounded amused by that, though he did so in his calm and reasonable voice, not his nananabooboo one. Oh, wait. That childish reaction was all mine. Right. “Frieda made a big stink about her business being undercut thanks to him.” I hadn’t heard that. “The whole town’s buzzing. I think Councilman Jenkins might be in for a bit of a letdown.”
Not to mention the senator’s support. From his lips to the voting polls of Reading.
“Let’s not miss his momentous crash, then,” Dad said, gesturing for the doorway. “Shall we?”
Honestly? Despite hating debates, knowing what I knew now, I was actually looking forward to seeing Geoffrey burn to the ground.
***
Chapter Thirty Six
Wouldn’t you know, life interrupted my pending delight at the end of one thorn in my side. I paused to answer my phone when it jangled its happy refrain, letting Dad and Crew go ahead of me, waving off my boyfriend when I noted the caller. My bestie had set the ring tone to her favorite song and the upbeat chorus seemed oddly appropriat
e at the moment. I answered with a lighter heart than I’d had in ages, actually smiling when I remembered we’d reconciled. So nice to have her back in my life again the way she was meant to be.
“Hey, Daisy,” I said, standing just outside the door, the faint breeze a welcome wash of cooler air doing little to cut down the heat of so many people overwhelming the airflow of the hall. “You’re missing all the excitement. I think Olivia’s prepped to kick Geoffrey’s butt.”
Not sure how much of that she caught since my voice was still only audible every three out of four words, but she laughed as I finished so she must have gotten the gist.
“Sorry to miss it,” she said, her normal excited self though with a hint of something that made me pause. “Cheer for his downfall for me, would you? Maybe make a vid?”
“Is everything okay?” Now I wished I was home for real. She needed me, I was sure of it. And I’d failed to be there for her too many times in the past. Never happening again. Pinky swears.
But Daisy sounded firm when she replied. “Fine,” she said. “I just wanted to let you know why I didn’t come. I’m… cleaning up some files. Looking into some things I wanted to double check. I’ll fill you in when I know more.”
That sounded… off. And made me instantly think of Rose, don’t ask me why. Except any time anything was off, well. Yeah. Rose. Daisy’s confidence, however? Right on track with the bestie I knew and loved, so I let her have her mystery for now. “Okie doke,” I said. “See you soon.” I hung up, mind whirling. Rose’s reveal she was Daisy’s real half-sister and not her step-sister still made my skin crawl and I fully intended to look into her claim. I wouldn’t put lying past her just to make Daisy’s life miserable and keep her under that nasty piece of work’s thumb. Family was everything to my best friend. I wanted to be sure her actual family wasn’t just pretending.
Meddling where I wasn’t needed, who, me?
Dad could find out. Because luring my father into the mess wasn’t throwing good Fleming after bad or anything. And, he’d love being Daisy’s hero. So there.
I lingered outside after I hung up, breathing the night air, listening to Olivia’s voice drone on and on about stuff I didn’t care about. Okay, not entirely fair, but honestly, her political promises were just that. And I had other things to ponder as my gaze swept and settled on a bulky man in a suit who looked about as out of place in the crowded hall as a linebacker at a ballet recital. The sight of one of Malcolm Murray’s bullies lurking in the corner, doing his best to appear at least only mildly threatening instead of his usual looming self, made me pause.
Huh. I wondered what brought him and why it was the Irishman’s favorite lackey wasn’t with his boss as per usual. Though, from what I’d learned during my short visit at The Orange earlier today, nothing about Malcolm was following the typical paradigms right now.
I surprised myself with my worry about the man I half-feared, half-admired. His big boy bodyguards, while polite, refused to tell me where he’d gone or why he’d left. It wasn’t their words that concerned me but the fact they, too, seemed anxious about his disappearance. Especially the hulkster of a suited gorilla playing at good Reading resident not so far from me. Temptation whispered, his proximity making me wish my voice wasn’t still so horrifically unreliable. If he were nervous about his boss’s state of being, I was nervous. He might have been a criminal, but Malcolm Murray was my criminal.
Talk about a screwed-up sense of family. And yes, for some reason I couldn’t explain, I had started to think about him like he was. Go figure.
I’d left him a message with his boys, despite knowing it wouldn’t do any good if he didn’t want to talk to me. Then another for Siobhan, though the old woman didn’t respond, either. Was Malcolm’s disappearance tied to her? He’d been the one who’d pressured me into finally contacting her, and she’d refused to tell me anything unless it was in person. So not my fault, not by a long shot. I’d done my best. Instead of stirring the pot, I turned away from the anxious bodyguard who didn’t appear to have a job to do since his boss was nowhere in sight and chose to smother my curiosity. I’d done the best I could do. That mystery lingered, rankled. But I was used to being frustrated when it came to their story, so I let it go in exchange for more pertinent issues.
I finally entered the building while Olivia, beaming, wrapped up what had to be a question that went well. If the scowl on Geoffrey’s face was any indication, she was wiping the floor, walls and ceiling with his hide and there wouldn’t be much left when she was done. Geoffrey, on the other hand, seemed out of sorts, spluttering and stammering his way through answers, and as I joined Dad and Crew in the back, my boyfriend grinned at me.
“I don’t think Geoff old chap was prepared for a fight,” he whispered. “He’s been staggering through his responses like an alcoholic looking for his last drink of the evening.”
Dad winked at me. “Well, that’s a big problem solved,” he said, not bothering to modulate his volume. A few of the watchers turned to glare before realizing it was him, nodding, and spinning away again. I guess my father did still have a lot of support and command respect in Reading. “Take bets on how much longer he has before he concedes?”
Turned out we didn’t get to answer. Geoffrey paused mid-stammer and looked down. I could hear his phone ringing from the back of the hall and, when he answered it, knew from the look on his face he wasn’t long for the council, let alone the podium.
Olivia smiled, radiant. “If you don’t mind, Councilman Jenkins, your attention to the debate would be appreciated.”
He snarled at her, listening to the caller, before hanging up. With his jaw jumping, hands clutching the podium in front of him, tension visible from all the way back here, he leaned into the microphone in front of him and, with an audible inhale, said, “I concede.”
I would have been cheering with the rest of the crowd, all those voices once against her now on her side calling Olivia’s name, were it not for the interesting sight of Vivian French, her perfect face set in a frown, hanging up her phone.
She met my eyes as if knowing I was watching, sensing my gaze. And nodded. Turned and left the hall through the side door while Geoffrey slunk from the stage, Olivia waving and smiling to the crowd, her victory speech no doubt prepared.
Meanwhile, I pondered what I’d just witnessed, Vivian’s control over Geoffrey—her nod told me she’d delivered the command to step down—and wondered with a little thrill of anxiety that felt like I had been missing clues all along what exactly the Queen of Wheat had to do with the Pattersons.
***
Chapter Thirty Seven
Crew kissed me, the lingering sort of lip connection that always left me with tingles. Why did it have to end? He leaned away at last, laughing when I grasped his jacket and pulled him back for just one more moment. Not that he fought me or anything.
When I finally let him go, he caught my hand, kissed my fingers. “I guess I’m staying Reading’s sheriff for a bit longer.”
“I guess so,” I said. “You’re sure you don’t want to come work for me? I could use a scullery maid. Or a handyman. How about a dog walker?”
He grinned. “No joke,” he said. “That may end up happening despite Olivia’s victory.” Why didn’t he seem worried? Right. Dad offered him a job at one point. Crew had to be thinking he had a backup plan that had nothing to do with scooping Petunia’s poop. “Poor Jill.”
“She felt terrible,” I said. “Olivia didn’t give her much choice.” Nice to see he was being good about it.
Crew nodded, looked out the window. “I know,” he said, voice quiet and low. “I get it. Fee, if it wasn’t for you and your dad, I wouldn’t have stayed past the death of Mason Patterson.”
Really? “Why?”
He shrugged, met my eyes again. “Small town,” he said. “Politics. Frustration. I’m not a quitter, but this place is messed up.”
I laughed, then coughed, throat on fire. “You’re telling me.” I sighed then
, squeezed his hand. “I thought you’d leave because of us, not stay for us.”
Crew’s blue eyes sparkled as he leaned in for another kiss. “I guess I figured I had something to prove to this place about your family,” he said, “and that I didn’t have to be a Fleming to get the job done. Trouble was, I kind of did.”
Snort. “Silly,” I said, kissing the end of his cold nose. “You do realize there’s one way to solve the whole becoming a Fleming issue, right?”
Oh. My. God. Did I just say that out loud? Crew didn’t comment, going still and quiet. Even as my suggestion he become family for real hovered between us. Because that’s exactly what I just said, wasn’t it? That if he was a Fleming…
Marriage. Was I ready for it?
At least he didn’t react badly, though there was enough sadness in his eyes I knew I’d struck a chord I should have stayed away from. I knew he loved me, had zero doubt of that now. But Michelle lingered between us like an aching tooth and though I loved him, too, I didn’t want to push him when his beloved wife’s memory might intrude.
“I love you,” he said. Kissed me. “More than you know.”
“I love you, too.” Kissed him back. “I’m sorry. I—”
He shook his head, smiled. “Goodnight, Fiona Fleming.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, so I left him with another hand squeeze, heading for the front door of Petunia’s, heart conflicted. I wanted to turn around and go back outside, to catch him before he drove off. Jump in the cab of his truck and hug him, kiss him into submission. Maybe even say out loud what I’d been thinking, that I didn’t want to rush him. Apologize again.