For the Love of Pete

by Debby Mayne

  “Maybe not.” Pamela went back to the cupboard, extracted a couple of plates, and returned to the table. She placed her hands palms down on a stack of papers and leaned toward Bethany. “But sometimes we just need warm bodies.”

  At least she was honest. “I can certainly be one of those.”

  Pamela returned to the table, her arms loaded with the plates, napkins, forks, and spoons. “You’re Naomi’s daughter, so I suspect you can be much more than a warm body. Don’t tell her I said this, but she’s one smart cookie.”

  Bethany chuckled. “That’ll be our little secret.”

  “I just wish I’d gotten to know you better when you were younger, so I could see what kind of talents you have. As soon as you hit legal age and got married, all we saw was your backside when you made your way out of town.”

  Bethany laughed. “Charlie had a better opportunity elsewhere.”

  “From what I understand, he always wanted to move away.” Pamela sat down and brushed some papers away to make room for her coffee. “His mother told us how he wanted more than what Bloomfield had to offer.” She shook her head and sipped her coffee. “Lord only knows why anyone would ever want to leave this beautiful little town.”

  Bethany knew Pamela had tunnel vision about boosting the population, so she decided it was time to stop talking about herself and Charlie. “Do you really think having another festival will make more people want to move here?”

  A brief flicker of doubt darted across Pamela’s face, but it quickly faded. “Of course, it will. Everyone loves a good festival.”

  “So tell me more about the reward program to lure people here.” Bethany figured she might as well know where her donations were going and how people would win them.

  “I’m glad you asked.” Pamela put down her cup and leaned over to pick up some papers across the table. “We’re using this reward program to tie everything to our history. Like if they win one of the floral quilts your mother-in-law made, they’ll get a note about how the garden club influenced her choices in color and design. The winner of a landscape makeover will get a free one-month trial membership to the Bloomfield Garden Club. The garden club will hand out flyers and calendars so folks can see what we have to offer, and we’ll take names and e-mail addresses to let people know of upcoming events.”

  This plan sounded more like it was about recruiting new members for the Bloomfield Garden Club than bringing in more people to establish roots in the town of Bloomfield, but Bethany would never call out Pamela. “I suppose it’s a good cause.”

  “Oh, it absolutely is a good cause. It’ll benefit everyone in this town.” Pamela sighed. “We’ve gone far too long without getting the kind of attention we deserve. This Welcome to Bloomfield festival will make everyone feel special—from the current citizens to the visitors.”

  Especially Pamela. Bethany had known Pamela all of her life, and she couldn’t remember a time when Pamela wasn’t the center of attention.

  “One thing I’ve noticed, though,” Pamela said slowly. “You haven’t actually come out and volunteered any of your collectibles. It’s always your mother who mentions them.” She leaned back, eyebrows lifted, as she remained uncharacteristically silent. “So tell me, are you onboard with this?”

  “Yes.” Bethany was glad she’d had the conversation with her mother, or Pamela might have been able to see her reluctance.

  “Are you sure? I mean, if you aren’t ready . . .” The softness in Pamela’s voice caused Bethany’s throat to tighten. Pamela reached for Bethany’s hand and closed around it. “If it’s too hard to offer those things, just say so. I would never want to take something away from you if you’re not willing to give it up. If you’re that attached to all your things, well . . .” She lifted her hands and let them drop, slapping the table and making Bethany jump.

  That did it. The tears that had caught in Bethany’s throat now streamed down her cheeks. She rubbed her face with her sleeve, but there was no way she could hide them from Pamela whose gaze remained fixed on her.

  “I honestly don’t mind donating some of my things.” She sniffled. “I have way too much in that small house anyway.”

  “Look what I’ve gone and done. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Pamela leaned toward her as she closed her hand around Bethany’s. “Are you absolutely sure?”

  Bethany nodded. “Positive.”

  “Okay then, let’s make an itemized list. It can’t be just any old junk . . .” She smiled apologetically. “That didn’t come out right, but I think you know what I mean. We have to show the value of the items so people will want to win them.” She lifted a pencil and pulled a notepad toward her. “It would be nice if the items were either antique collectibles, limited editions, or handcrafted items made by a Bloomfield resident. Belva was the craftiest person I ever knew. She could sew, quilt, knit, crochet, paint, and do anything else she set her mind to. All that, and she managed to have the prettiest garden in town most years.”

  Bethany squeezed her eyes shut as she realized that was one area where she’d let folks down. The beautiful flower garden across the front of the house she’d inherited had withered and died, so she’d let the grass creep into it, and now the lawn grew flush with the house. The vegetable garden in the back had also been sorely neglected.

  “Bethany, are you okay, dear?”

  Bethany nodded. “I’m fine.” She leaned forward and glanced at the paper where Pamela had listed numbers one through ten. “Let’s work on this.”

  By the time she left Pamela’s house, she’d volunteered to donate three handmade quilts, three complete collections of Hummels, ten years’ worth of Bloomfield Garden Club’s cookbooks, and several of the many oil paintings her mother-in-law had made of the town square.

  “We won’t use it all for prizes. In fact, I think putting most of it in the garden club booth at the rummage sale will bring in some much needed funds so we can keep up with all of our projects.” She paused. “What do you think?”

  Bethany shrugged and then nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll get everything together as soon as I have time.”

  “It’s not much, but it’s a start,” Pamela said.

  “Do you really think all that stuff will make people want to move here?”

  “Well . . . I think these things will be attractive to Bloomfield residents so they’ll have incentive to bring out-of-towners to the festival and show it off. Then visitors will see our pride, and it’ll make them want to move here.” She stopped, crinkled her forehead, and smiled as her voice changed. “Oh, what am I saying? Actually, no, I don’t think any of this will make people want to move here, but your mother and Gertie were so proud of themselves for coming up with the idea of the giveaway, I couldn’t very well say no, could I?” She shrugged. “I mean, who am I to dampen anyone’s enthusiasm? Everything can’t be my idea, now can it?”

  Bethany had never seen this side of Pamela, and it cast a whole different light on her feelings toward the woman. “No, but why did you decide to turn the whole thing into a festival with the parade and all?”

  “I got caught up in the moment. Their excitement was contagious.” Pamela shrugged. “It sounded good at the time, and once I had Naomi and Gertie onboard, how could I back out?” She lowered her voice. “Actually, I think it’s a rather silly idea, but please don’t let on. I’m just glad someone besides me is excited about increasing the population here. I was beginning to think I was a one-woman army fighting an impossible battle. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep folks happy and feeling like they’re part of something bigger than themselves.”

  No wonder Pamela was president of the Bloomfield Garden Club.

  Chapter 5

  After Bethany left, Pamela strolled out the door to check the mail. As she turned back toward her house, a gray envelope taped to the front door caught her attention. She lifted it and checked the return address. Mayor Wo
ody Hansen.

  Pamela tossed the rest of the mail onto the side table and ripped into the mayor’s envelope. She wondered when she’d hear from him. After all, she’d done everything in her power to let him know about the plans for the festival short of calling him herself. Last time she’d wanted something, she heard him groan the instant he saw her. And now, according to his short sentence, “Pamela, call me ASAP. Woody,” he was beckoning her.

  Not one to shirk responsibility for a single garden club activity—even one she thought was as silly as Naomi and Gertie’s reward program plans—she’d taken the initiative to make things happen. She had a pretty good idea they were testing her with the cockamamie idea. So rather than show doubt, she latched on and showed her support to call their bluff.

  Pamela chuckled as she reflected on how they’d hung tight to their scheme rather than back down. She had to hand it to them; they followed through, and she knew they would until the very end.

  She picked up the phone to dial the mayor’s office, and then put it down. This was one of those times she’d have to exercise a little patience and make him wait. He’d certainly made her wait enough times. Maybe she’d give him a call in the morning.

  Andy stopped by a little later to check on her. “I have to go to the fire hall early. One of the guys got sick, so I’m finishing the last couple hours of his shift.”

  “That’s too bad.” Pamela’s mind wandered back to the mayor’s note. “I hope he gets well soon.”

  Andy waved a hand in front of her face. “Earth to Pamela, are you in there?”

  She blinked and looked him in the eye. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

  “The question is, why are you acting this way? It’s as though your mind is miles away.” A look of consternation washed over his face. “You’re not worried about that festival you’ve been talking about, are you?”

  Andy knew her too well. “I might as well come out and tell you; I’m not so sure Naomi wasn’t pulling my leg about it.”

  “She just might have been.” He shook his head. “It would serve her right to have to go to all that trouble of actually having the festival.”

  Pamela rolled her eyes. “I’m the one going to all the trouble.”

  “I thought you put Naomi in charge.”

  “Are you kidding?” she asked. “I did, but you know how that goes. Oh, speaking of the festival, I got a note from Woody. He wants to see me right away.”

  He chuckled. “Isn’t that what you were hoping for?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I’ve been around you quite a bit for the past twelve years, and I know how you operate. So do you have your speech planned out?”

  “Speech?”

  Andy nodded. “Yes, the speech you’ll make before the city council, with all your buddies from the garden club standing behind you for support.” He laughed again. “And to think you’re doing all this for what might wind up being a joke.”

  “Hmm.” Pamela sank down in the chair behind her.

  “But . . .” He lifted a finger. “This festival actually isn’t such a bad idea. Like you said at the Sprocketts’ dinner table, this town loves a festival, and we can always use a good party.”

  “True. I suppose I should call some of the garden club members to go with me.” She leaned back and frowned. “I bet that’s what he expects.”

  “Of course, it is.”

  Resolve flowed through her. “Then that’s not what I’m gonna do. I think this calls for an element of surprise.”

  Andy groaned. “Looks like I opened a can of worms.”

  “Nope. You’re a genius.” Pamela hopped up, gave Andy a quick kiss on the cheek, took him by the arm, and led him to the door. “I hate to do this, Andy, but you need to leave now so I can go to City Hall and see the mayor.”

  “By yourself? What about your friends?” He shot a concerned gaze her way. “I can go with you if you want.”

  She sighed. “Thanks, Andy. You’re a sweetie, but I think I’ll do better by myself.”

  Andy shook his head and laughed all the way to his car. Once he pulled away, Pamela ran to her room, freshened her makeup, thought about what to say, and rehearsed her spiel. This had to be an award winner, or she’d never get the rummage sale changed to a parade and festival. The city council had already started talking about scaling back on what they called costly events. This could serve more than one purpose—to show Naomi the error of pulling a fast one on Pamela and testing the mayor’s loyalty to the garden club. He’d been blessed by their support during election season. Now he could show his willingness to back up his promises.

  Fifteen minutes later, Pamela walked into City Hall. Mayor Hansen’s assistant wasn’t at her desk, so she walked right up to his closed office door, paused for only a second, and then knocked.

  “Come on in, Ophelia.”

  Pamela opened the door and walked in with her shoulders squared, her head high. “Ophelia wasn’t at her desk, so I took the liberty—”

  “You always take liberties, Pamela,” Woody said as he stood and gestured toward the chair on her side of his desk. “Have a seat.” Once she was seated, he folded his hands in a manner that made him look more like a mayor and less like the boy Pamela once knew back in high school. “So what’s this I hear about another festival?” He lifted one of the pink flyers and waved it.

  She explained how they were close to reaching their population goal. “If we can have this one, teeny-tiny festival, I think we’ll nail it.”

  He laughed. “This one teeny-tiny festival can set the city back quite a bit.”

  “How? It’s not like I’m asking the city for money. You know everything the garden club does is self-funded.”

  He narrowed his eyes and held her gaze. She wasn’t about to back down. “When I first caught wind of this, I thought it might be a joke and wondered what you were up to.” He leaned forward, his eyes bulging. “But you’re actually serious, aren’t you?”

  She only hesitated for a split second before giving him a clipped nod. “Yup. As Naomi would say, serious as a heart attack.”

  Tilting his head even farther forward, he cleared his throat. “This will be fully garden-club run and paid for?”

  “Of course. All I’ll need from you is a pronouncement of the Welcome to Bloomfield weekend, and we’ll do the rest.”

  “How about shutting the street down for your proposed parade?” He looked at her with skepticism.

  “Only for a day and a half.” Pamela paused. “And it’ll be during the weekend when there’s never any city business anyway.”

  “From what I’ve heard on the streets, you plan to start it on Friday.”

  Pamela nodded. “Yes, but in the afternoon.” She leaned forward to trump his gaze, raising her eyebrows. “How much work do you get done on Friday afternoons, Woody?”

  “You’ve got a point.” He raised himself slightly from his chair and looked around her. “Did you bring something to sweeten the deal?”

  “What?”

  “Like pastries from the Pink Geranium.” He leaned back. “Not that I’m asking for a bribe or anything.”

  “Of course you aren’t, which is why I didn’t do it. I thought you wanted to see me right away, so I came straight here. I would never want the mayor to think I’m not a good citizen. You wanted to talk to me, so here I am.” Oh, that was good. She made a mental note to use the citizen thing again in the future.

  “I said to call.”

  She grinned. “So you did.”

  “Tell you what. You can have this festival, but I’ll have to think about the Friday afternoon thing and run it by the city council.” He smiled. “Let’s not end it until Sunday after church.”

  “Whatever you say, Mayor. You’re the boss.”

  “Are you being sarcastic?” he asked.

 
She forced a contrite look. “No, why would I do that? I’m just thankful you’re onboard with us.”

  As she walked out of the mayor’s office, she did a mental fist pump. One thing she’d learned was that it always paid to ask for more than she wanted. It didn’t hurt to leave room for negotiation.

  Chapter 6

  On his way to a plumbing job, Pete spotted Bethany coming out of Pamela’s house. He slowed down, lowered his window, and tapped his horn. She glanced up and waved.

  “Need a ride?”

  She shook her head and pointed to her car. “I drove, but thanks.” Her gaze darted to the car that had pulled up behind Pete. “We’re stopping traffic.”

  Pete pulled off to the side so the car could drive around him. “What’re you doing tonight?”

  He noticed the flash of trepidation on her face. “Call me later, okay?”

  He lifted his hands, forced a grin, and nodded. “Fine, I’ll do that.”

  As he pulled away, he realized something appeared different about Bethany—something more than her reluctance to talk to him. Ever since she’d returned to Bloomfield, she seemed distracted and in her own little bubble, but now, she looked as though she was aware of the rest of the world. She’d just left Pamela’s house, so he wondered if it was something Pamela might have said or done.

  He turned onto the next street over, pulled into the driveway of his client, and got out of the truck. Jeremy Maples had asked him to come over and help replace some of the outdated kitchen plumbing. Ever since the Maples family had started renting Sherry Butler’s house, they’d been updating it and fixing everything that didn’t work.

  At first, everyone was shocked that Sherry had gone through with renting the house out and moving into the Fontainbleu Luxury Apartments, but now she was having so much fun, he had to force himself to remember how things were before that. Before she’d been a quiet woman whose social life revolved around the garden club, but now she was a regular social butterfly who looked like she actually enjoyed life. Of course, the fact that she and Brad Henderson were now engaged made a huge difference.