by Mya O'Malley
“Ohio University. Small town.”
“College town. Much more cosmopolitan than dreary Bellefleur.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Didn’t you grow up in Bellefleur?”
“Well, sure.”
“So, no family?”
“No.”
“Well,” he said gently. “Let’s put it this way. You know the people. You’ve got connections there. You’ve got hometown girl credibility.” He flashed a wry smile. “You’ve got what the young people call cred.”
“Oh, I suppose so,” she mused. The senator did have a point. A local reporter from The Bellefleur Times had contacted her several months ago, wanting to write a story about her. The typical kind of fare, Local Girl Finds Fabulous Career in Washington. And the article made her life look glamorous and wonderful. It highlighted all the good things about being a senior legislative aide to a senator, the perks. The article mentioned the high-rise condo in Georgetown, the hobnobbing with all the famous and politically connected people of Washington. On the surface, the article made her life look amazing.
But something troubled her. A little thing, really, but troubling, all the same. The reporter pressed tactfully, but apart from Molly’s one admission of a daughter, she did not disclose any additional facts concerning her private life. And the reporter respected her desire for privacy. He didn’t go into great detail, for instance, over Meredith’s apparently nonexistent father. A single mother struggling to make it on her own, an ambitious career woman. The reporter made it sound as if she were a single mother by choice.
As if.
“And you want me to oversee this operation?” she asked. “From Bellefleur?”
“Bellefleur may be a backwater in your mind, Molly, but it’s an important town for your congressional run. I don’t know if you realize this, but out of the past nineteen elections, the winning candidate has always carried Bellefleur.”
She gazed at him, aghast. “You’re kidding me.”
“I’m deadly serious,” he said impassively. “I’d advise you to pay attention to those kinds of details. They can make or break an election campaign.”
She gulped, hard. “So, if I want to win my run for Congress—”
“You’ll move back to Bellefleur and set up my office. Count on being there throughout the summer. And take some time off, kick your feet back, and have some fun.”
“Ha,” Molly said humorlessly, “you’ve never been to my hometown, have you?”
“I hear it’s a charming, antebellum city.”
“It does have its charms,” she conceded, “but there’s a reason why I left.”
Bill smiled. “I’ll guide you through your campaign. I think you’ve got a good chance of winning.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“It’ll be hard to see you go.”
“I do love it here,” she said uneasily.
“And we all love you, Molly, and we love Meredith. Me, Susan, and Liza.”
A lump formed in her throat.
She’d long ago come to think of the senator’s office as her home, her sanctuary. She’d made herself utterly indispensable to the senator and to his family. Perhaps this explained why she’d stayed on so long; she loved this family she’d created, and Meredith had also formed a part of the senator’s family. They’d always been made to feel as if they belonged.
How in the world could she ever belong in Bellefleur? The sleepy river-town she’d escaped from, seventeen years ago?
And what in the world would she do if she bumped into Meredith’s father?
Tears filled her eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You deserve a break,” the senator said.
Molly brushed back her tears and gazed steadily at him. “You’re really sure you think I can win?”
“I’m certain of it. You’ve got an excellent chance of winning. Once my election’s over, you can take over the space you’ve opened up for me, and turn it into your own campaign headquarters.”
“You’ve really thought this out,” Molly said in a tone of wonder.
A sly, slow smile spread across his features. “I rather like the idea of calling you Congresswoman Brandenberg.”
Molly absorbed his words, closed her eyes, and inhaled. How strange. She kind of liked the idea, too.