Wishing Lake

by Regina Hart

  “Thanks for your time, Nessa.”

  “Of course. You can call my office to schedule an interview about my becoming council president.”

  “Already done, Madame President. I’m just waiting for you to set the date.”

  Fleeting surprise replaced Nessa’s arrogant expression. “I’ll have my secretary call you after he’s checked my calendar.”

  Long, jerky strides carried Nessa down the hall and into the parking lot. Was Nessa’s secretary about to hear his boss’s displeasure with his delay in scheduling media interviews? Hopefully not.

  Darius looked at the notes from his exchange with the council president. Doreen was in for a challenging term. Despite Nessa’s protestations, which were typical of politicians, Darius knew Trinity Falls would have a two-person mayoral race in 2018.

  “The next four years are going to be interesting.” Peyton’s lily-of-the-valley scent alerted Darius to her presence just before her words.

  He faced the professor. “You read my mind.”

  “Something tells me that’s not often done.” Peyton’s winged eyebrows took flight. Her caramel eyes sparkled with humor. “Will I find my way back out?”

  Darius struggled against a smile. “What did you think of your first experience voting in Trinity Falls?”

  Peyton’s expression told him she was claiming victory in this exchange of wits. Darius let her.

  “It was definitely different.” Peyton secured the strap of her dark purple purse onto her shoulder.

  “In what way?” Darius pulled his attention from her full, moist lips, and readied his notebook and pen.

  “I’ve only been here five months.” Peyton shrugged a slender shoulder. “I’m used to having at least a year to consider the pros and cons of ballot issues and candidates.”

  “Some people would consider that too much time.” Darius wrote quickly.

  “I’m in academia.” Her eyes twinkled again. “No one makes quick decisions in academia.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “I’d rather be oversaturated with information than feel as though I’m cramming for an exam.”

  “An exam is a good analogy to voting. What did you think of the test?”

  “It was a little strange having only one candidate for mayor.” Her eyes dropped to Darius’s notebook, then returned to his face. “But even if there’d been ten or even twenty candidates on the ballot, I still would’ve voted for Doreen. She’s the right person for the job.”

  Her answer impressed him. It was a reporter’s wet dream. He should return to his office and file his story. Now. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave. He wanted more time with Peyton, more time to look at her, breathe her fragrance, remember their kiss.

  Darius cleared his voice. “Why do you think she’s the right person?”

  “I’ve benefited from Doreen’s warmth and generosity. She’s made me feel like a part of the community since I moved here. And I’ve seen how much she cares for the town and its people. I can tell how much she cares about you.”

  Darius paused with his pen over the paper. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve seen the way she treats you, Quincy, and Ean. It’s as though she has three sons, not just one.”

  “Quincy and I spent a lot of time at Ean’s house.” Darius smiled as those childhood images sped across his mind. “You’re right. Doreen’s a very generous person. Her house felt like my second home. It couldn’t have been easy for her or her late husband, Paul. The three of us were loud, messy, and always looking for food.” Ethel and Simon had never allowed that kind of unruly behavior in the Knight household.

  “Those sound like great memories.” Peyton’s smile was wistful.

  “They are.” Darius stepped forward, pulled toward Peyton by an invisible thread. “We’ve been friends since elementary school, almost thirty years.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  “Don’t you have friendships that long?” Darius breathed in Peyton’s soft scent.

  “Over the years, my friends and I have drifted apart.”

  What would have happened to him if he, Ean, Quincy, and Jackson had lost contact over the years? He would have lost his anchors.

  Darius shook off the thought. “Hopefully you’ll make those kinds of friendships here.”

  “I’d like that.” Her eyes were wistful. “I’d better get to work. Good luck with your article.”

  Darius blew out a breath. His reaction to Peyton wasn’t going away. If anything, it was growing stronger. But could he risk acting on these feelings? He was his father’s son, and Simon had made a mess of every relationship he ever had. Could Darius avoid making those same mistakes?

  “Darius!”

  The sound of his name being gasped in horror startled him. Darius spun away from his computer and was surprised again to find his mother standing in the entrance of his cubicle. Ethel looked as though he’d mortally wounded her.

  “Mom? What are you doing here?” Darius’s eyes dropped to the picnic basket in her fist. His confusion grew.

  “I brought you lunch.” Ethel hoisted the carrier. “Although that seems to have been a wasted effort.”

  Darius glanced at the paper bowl of chicken stew in his hands, and the still-wrapped turkey, bacon, and pepper jack cheese sandwich on his desk. “Why?”

  “I thought you’d be hungry.” Her eyes snapped with impatience. She lowered her arm. “Today’s the election. I know how busy you are, covering it for the newspaper. I wanted to make sure you had something for lunch.”

  “I didn’t know you were going to do that.” How could he have known? In the seven years he’d worked for the Monitor, Ethel had never acknowledged his work nor had she ever visited his office. And she hadn’t said anything to indicate her interest had changed.

  “I wanted to surprise you. I guess the surprise is on me.” Ethel took the few steps into his cubicle, setting the carrier on his desk with a thud. Her movements were a study in displeasure. “I didn’t expect you to eat so early.”

  Darius checked his watch. “It’s almost one o’clock.”

  Ethel’s jaw clenched. “It takes time to put together a decent meal. I can’t cook all of this at the drop of a hat.”

  “You didn’t need to go to the trouble. I bought my lunch.” Darius watched her pinched features warily.

  “Where did you get that?” She made it sound as though he’d gone Dumpster diving. They both knew from where he’d purchased his soup and sandwich.

  “The café at Books and Bakery.”

  “Doreen Fever has her own son to take care of. She doesn’t need to feed mine.” Jealousy bit into Ethel’s words.

  She began unpacking the basket. Darius swallowed a sigh. He spun his chair back to his monitor, then pressed a couple of keys to save his work. Nothing less than his full attention would appease his mother now.

  Plastic containers filled with salad and pasta covered Darius’ story notes. Ethel placed a thermos beside the dishes and unwrapped bread.

  She offered him an apple and a banana. “I couldn’t remember which you preferred.”

  He’d never liked either fruit, but this wasn’t a good time to remind his mother of that. “I’ll take the apple. Thank you.”

  “For what?” She shoved the apple at him. “You’ve already eaten.”

  The next few minutes were critical. His mother thought nothing of punishing innocent people for her disappointments. Her reaction to Noah was an example of this. Darius didn’t want Ethel taking out her resentment about lunch on Doreen.

  “The meal looks wonderful, Mom.” He took the apple from her hand. He’d offer it to Jackson later. “You obviously went to a lot of trouble. Thank you. It’s going to be a long day. I’d like to save your meal for dinner.”

  Instantly, Ethel’s scowl disappeared. “That’s a good idea.” She wrinkled her nose at the soup and sandwich that comprised Darius’s lunch. “You’ll probably be hungry again in a couple of hours.”

 
No, he wouldn’t. Doreen’s cooking seemed light but would stick to his ribs until this evening. After one of her lunches, he wouldn’t need as big a dinner as Ethel had prepared. Again, not information he’d share with his mother—right now—if ever.

  Darius considered Ethel’s satisfied expression as she repacked the picnic basket for him. What was behind her unprecedented mothering? Darius glanced around his cubicle. It wasn’t the ideal location for such a personal and personally dangerous mission. But this couldn’t wait.

  “How are you adjusting to being on your own now that Dad’s moved out of the house?”

  “He didn’t move out.” The storm clouds returned. “I threw that cheating snake out on his ass.”

  OK. Well, that was much more restrained than he’d anticipated. “Now you have more time to dedicate to things you’ve always wanted to do. You can put yourself first instead of tending to Dad. Or worrying about me.”

  “What does that mean?” Ethel’s dark eyes narrowed. “You prefer Doreen’s cooking to mine?”

  How had she made that leap?

  “What I mean is you can pursue your own interests. I can take care of myself, Mom.” He’d been doing so for decades.

  “Oh, really? Well, then, I won’t go to the trouble of cooking meals for you, and you won’t have to go to the trouble of eating them.” She collected the picnic basket from his desk. You can just keep filling your face with Doreen Fever’s cooking.”

  Darius stood, putting a detaining hand on Ethel’s shoulder. He should have anticipated his mother’s scorched-earth response. “I never said I preferred Doreen’s cooking to yours. This isn’t a competition. And I never said I wasn’t going to eat the meal you cooked.”

  “Then what did you mean, Darius?” She raised her chin to a combative angle.

  Her eyes demanded he beg her forgiveness. He just wanted this emotional torture to end, preferably without innocent victims.

  “I meant exactly what I said.” Darius rubbed his eyes. “If you’re bored without Dad—”

  “I’m not bored without Simon. What makes you think that?”

  “The fact you packed my lunch.” He gestured toward the picnic basket. “You haven’t done that since I was five.”

  They locked gazes for several tense moments. Darius wasn’t backing down. If she wanted to take out her anger and resentment for Simon on him, then fine. She’d been doing that even before he was old enough to understand it. But he didn’t want her blaming Doreen for anything.

  Ethel lowered her eyes. She placed the repacked picnic basket back on his desk. “If you want my dinner, you can have it. I’ll try not to trouble you in the future.”

  “Thank you.” Darius masked his relief.

  “I’ll leave you alone now.” Ethel left his cubicle with her head held high.

  Drained, Darius sank back onto his chair. He wheeled it around to brood with his computer monitor. He wasn’t fooling himself. He may have won this skirmish, but the war wasn’t over. What would boredom drive Ethel to do next?

  Hours later, Jackson wandered into Darius’s office. “Do you have a minute?”

  “Sure.” Darius saved his document, then swung his chair to face his boss. He gestured toward the fruit on his desk. “Do you want an apple?”

  “Thanks.” Jackson took the apple, examining it. “I’m making some management changes. Nothing will be announced until after the new year.”

  So why was he here now? “What kind of changes?”

  “I’ve officially promoted Faye Liu to executive editor.” Jackson settled onto Darius’s guest chair. He’d left his navy suit jacket in his office. Newsprint marred the sleeves of his white dress shirt. “She kept the newspaper going while I was away.”

  Darius nodded. “Faye’s promotion is very well deserved.”

  “She suggested you take over as managing editor.”

  Darius stared. “What?”

  Jackson set his right ankle on his left knee. “Faye said you helped shoulder a lot of the responsibility without being asked and without asking for recognition. She appreciated that.”

  “I wasn’t after a promotion. I was just trying to help.” Darius was still surprised.

  “I know and I appreciate what you did for me. But I need to make these changes.” Jackson shrugged. “I can’t perform all the tasks I had now that I’m renovating and managing Harmony Cabins.”

  “I understand, but I’ve always seen myself as a reporter.”

  “You can make your managing editor position whatever you want, as long as Faye’s comfortable with it.” Jackson stood. “Think it over. As I said, I’m not going to make an official announcement until after the new year.”

  “Thanks for thinking of me, Jack.” Darius stood with his boss.

  “There’s no one better for the job.” Jackson squeezed Darius’ shoulder. “I hope you’ll take it.” He then left the cubicle.

  Darius returned to his computer. Managing editor. He’d never considered the position before. But with Ean opening his solo law practice and Quincy accepting a position with the University of Pennsylvania, perhaps it was time Darius made a change as well.

  “Good morning, Mayor.” Ean claimed a bar stool at the Books & Bakery café counter Wednesday morning.

  Doreen felt a thrill—excitement, trepidation, both?—at her son’s greeting. It was the morning after the election, and she was still walking on air.

  “You’re a little premature.” She collected the coffee carafe before crossing to the counter. “I don’t get sworn in until New Year’s Day.”

  As she filled her son’s coffee mug, Megan, her boss, joined her behind the counter. It was a few minutes after eight o’clock. Ean was her first guest of the morning. Darius, Ramona, Jackson, and Audra would be joining them soon. She missed Quincy. How was the professor settling in at the University of Pennsylvania?

  Still, life was good in Trinity Falls. Her son had come home and was dating Megan. She’d won the mayoral election and was falling in love with the sheriff.

  “I wanted to be the first to call you mayor.” Ean’s grin disappeared behind his coffee mug.

  “Alonzo beat you to it.” Doreen returned the carafe to the coffee station behind the counter. “We watched the election returns last night. It was silly, I know, since I didn’t have a challenger. But I wanted to wait until all the precincts had given their counts before celebrating.”

  “That isn’t silly.” Megan filled two mugs with coffee. “It shows you verify facts before making a final decision. That’s one of the reasons I know you’ll be a great mayor.”

  “You’ve always been so good for my self-esteem.” Doreen accepted the coffee Megan offered her.

  “On the other hand, I’m not as convinced you’ll be an adequate mayor.” Nessa’s voice brought a chill to the camaraderie in the café.

  Doreen swallowed her coffee before turning to their new arrival. “Good morning, Nessa. Can I get you anything?”

  “I’m not staying.” The other woman rested her hands on the empty bar stool beside Ean. “I understand CeCe told you I’ve replaced her as town council president.”

  “She told me she’d stepped down and that your bid for the position was unopposed.” Doreen crossed back to the counter to stand opposite Nessa. “Similar to what occurred with my mayoral candidacy.”

  “Similar but not the same.” Nessa’s thin smile assured Doreen her message had been received. “I also want you to know I won’t take into consideration what you may or may not have done for the town. Your past won’t matter once you’re sworn in.”

  Ean turned toward Trinity Falls’ new council president. “Nessa, what’s—”

  Doreen clamped a warning hand on her son’s shoulder. “I hadn’t realized you were going to judge me from day one. If my past doesn’t matter, what will you base your judgment on?”

  “I’ll consider only what you’ve accomplished since the election.” Nessa’s tone was both prim and condemning.

  Doreen ignor
ed the tension flowing from Ean’s shoulder into her palm, as well as the new arrivals she spotted in her peripheral vision. Her focus was on Nessa. “What would you expect me to accomplish between now and January first?”

  “I’ll expect you to get your personal matters in order. You’re not morally ready to be mayor.” Nessa’s declaration was curt.

  “Excuse me?” Doreen exerted pressure on Ean’s shoulder to keep her son seated—and herself upright. Megan’s presence beside her lent silent support.

  “You’re copulating with the sheriff.” Nessa’s nostrils flared with harsh judgment.

  Doreen glanced at her new guests standing behind Nessa. “You’re going to consider my private relationship with Alonzo when evaluating my performance as a public servant?”

  “Yes, I am.” Nessa drew her back even straighter.

  “Will you judge my morality as well, Nessa?” Alonzo’s quiet question came from behind the council president.

  Nessa spun to face the sheriff. Standing with Alonzo were the dismayed and amazed Darius, Ramona, Jackson, and Audra.

  The council president stuttered her response to the sheriff’s question. “W-well, actually, Alonzo, I have no choice. But you won’t be judged as harshly as Doreen, since, as mayor, she’ll be held to a higher standard.”

  “You self-righteous—”

  Alonzo cut off Ean’s choked words. His coffee eyes were cold as he stared down at Nessa. “As much as I appreciate your interest in the state of Doreen’s and my immortal souls, what we do in the privacy of our homes is none of your business.”

  Doreen shivered at Alonzo’s coldness. He rarely spoke like that. Beneath her palm, the tension in Ean’s shoulder eased a bit.

  Nessa rallied. “Actually, Alonzo, as council president, the mayor’s private life is my business. Her morality—or lack thereof—could have an adverse effect on her judgment.”

  Alonzo’s voice grew even colder. “If it’s all the same to you, Nessa, I won’t have a politician judging my morality. I’ll leave that to God. And I don’t think Doreen would mind if I spoke for her.”