Coming to Rosemont

by Barbara Hinske

  “I’ll need help from all of you to accomplish this. First, sign my petition and ask your friends and neighbors to sign. I need to get on the ballot. Second, turn out on Election Day to vote for me. And third, let me hear from you. I want your input as we define a new direction for our town. No single person has all the answers. We need to clean up our finances and formulate a new town general plan. We need to address jobs, transportation, education, infrastructure, and public works. Together we can weather this storm and emerge more vibrant than ever. I’m betting on us,” he concluded as he gestured to the crowd. Applause swept the room.

  A few people asked questions, but most were anxious to get on their way. Sam stood and announced that petitions were available by the entrance. Several people gathered around Alex with additional questions, while the remainder headed for the door. With the exception of Councilman Delgado, every person in attendance signed the petition. Delgado disappeared through a side exit.

  Chapter 29

  Maggie choked back tears as she pulled away from the airport and couldn’t shake the low mood that shrouded her as she made the solitary drive back to Westbury. Since she planned to solicit signatures at the supermarket anyway, she decided to head straight there and collect them until two o’clock. Her goal was two hundred signatures.

  The manager allowed her to set up her card table close to the entrance. Both his parents were town retirees, and he was one hundred percent behind her efforts. Shoppers were interested. Maggie was surprised that so many people wanted to stop and question her about Alex’s plans to set the town’s finances on firm footing. Instead of sitting idle for most of the day, as she had feared, she spent the time in full campaign mode. The activity and lively conversations lifted her spirits, and by two o’clock she had one hundred and ninety-two signatures. Not one to abandon a goal, she continued until two thirty, when she hit the two hundred mark.

  Maggie stashed the table and petitions in her car and picked up a couple of nice steaks, some twice baked potatoes that she would only have to reheat, and the fixings for a good salad. She stopped at Laura’s and picked up a pie for dessert. This wasn’t the show-off, home-cooked meal she would have liked to serve John, but under the circumstances, it would have to do.

  ***

  Getting ready took more time than she had anticipated. Her hair was not cooperating, and she noticed the spot on her blouse after she was fully dressed. Changing her blouse required a change in slacks and shoes—why were women’s wardrobes so complicated?—and she was way behind schedule when she finally hit the kitchen. She realized that she had forgotten to pick up anything for an appetizer. She rummaged frantically through the refrigerator looking for some decent cheese, but came up empty-handed. So much for being an accomplished hostess, she chastised herself. She started the potatoes and was fixing the salad when John arrived. She leaned in and kissed him lightly. He presented her with a bottle of wine and a bouquet of yellow tulips.

  “These are lovely—tulips are my favorite. Did you know they continue to grow after they’re cut? These will extend themselves another six inches and will bend along lovely arcs. So much fun to watch them do it. Thank you. Let’s get these in water.” She took his arm and led him to the kitchen. “Dinner is nothing fancy, I’m afraid. I spent most of the day at the supermarket getting signatures. And I totally forgot about an appetizer, but the salad is almost ready, so if you’re hungry we can start on it and then grill the steaks.” She pulled out a vase and began cutting stems and arranging the flowers.

  “No lunch today; I’m starved. The salad would be great. How about I open this?”

  Maggie handed him a corkscrew and a couple of glasses. She dressed the salad, and they took their plates to a small table on the patio that she had set for dinner. They leisurely chatted about the challenges of John’s day. As she grilled the steaks, they inevitably turned to the topic of Alex’s campaign.

  “You’re remarkable. You know that, don’t you? I’ve never met anyone like you. You could be running for office. You have a total grasp of the issues and you know how to rally people to work toward a solution. You inspire confidence. I’d vote for you in a heartbeat,” John said, holding Maggie’s gaze.

  Maggie flushed and looked away. “That’s very kind, but I don’t think so. People don’t even know me around here. I think they’re ready for a change, though. That was evident from the folks I talked to today. Alex has a good shot at this. I just hope that the opposition doesn’t try something underhanded. I don’t know if they’re responsible for the fires, but I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  “I agree,” John replied. “It makes me nervous for you, too. You might be a target as his campaign manager.”

  Maggie turned to face him. “I’ve never heard of anybody’s campaign staff being targeted. They always go for the candidate. But I’ll be careful, don’t you worry. I’m aware of my surroundings, I always lock my doors, and I faithfully set my alarm,” she assured him as she picked up their empty plates. “It’s getting chilly out here. Let’s move inside.”

  Dessert started with pie à la mode and progressed to old-fashioned necking on the sofa in the living room. My God, this feels nice, Maggie thought. She was wondering how they could move to the next level. How does one actually have a conversation about safe sex? Would he have come prepared with a condom? Do you get a blood test first? Why on earth hadn’t she thought about all of this before now and asked someone? Who in the world did she know well enough to ask? Did John even want to? Okay, that was ridiculous, it was clear he wanted to.

  They were interrupted by the alarm system announcing, “Back kitchen door open.” Alex and Marc had just come home. Maggie and John shot up and began frantically straightening their clothes and smoothing their hair. Like a couple of teenagers, Maggie thought. The absurdity of the situation at this age and stage of their lives hit them, and they couldn’t suppress their guilty laughter. Alex and Marc entered the room and found them in a full-out fit of giggles.

  They had seen John’s car pulled up in front and had proceeded through the house slowly while making a lot of noise, so it was obvious that they had anticipated exactly what John and Maggie were doing. This realization only fueled their nervous laughter. Alex and Marc exchanged an uneasy glance.

  Maggie sobered up first and told Alex that her petitions from the afternoon were on the table in his room upstairs. He and Marc took the hint and quickly retired.

  John took Maggie in his arms and held her tight. He leaned back and looked at her. “A close call, young lady. I didn’t want to stop. I’m going to get a blood test. They’ll give you a toll free number that you can call to get the results. Then we can get together at my place? I’ve only got my dog, Roman, and cats living with me. Would that work?”

  Maggie nodded her agreement, and told him she would do the same. John gave her another long, passionate kiss that left her wondering how long it took to get the test results back.

  Chapter 30

  Sunday was a busy day for Alex’s campaign as they circulated petitions at churches, real estate open houses, and in front of the library. Sam and Joan swung by Rosemont in the late afternoon with one hundred eighteen signatures. Tim arrived shortly after five with another fifty-two. Beth called on her way over with seventy-one. Maggie ran a tape, and the grand total came to 3,591 signatures.

  “We’ve done it,” Alex announced to the small group of supporters. “Well, you’ve done it. We’ve got a comfortable margin here. I’ll definitely get my name on the ballot. I can’t thank you enough. You are the best friends anyone could ever hope for.”

  “We need to celebrate,” Marc said. “Let’s go get dinner at Pete’s. My treat. I’ll call Tonya and John to see if they can join us.”

  Tonya couldn’t make it until dessert, but John was already at Pete’s when they arrived. Pete ushered them into the private room upstairs. They recapped the events of the past few weeks and congratulated each other on bringing down the current administration. Pride and opti
mism marked their conversations as they worked their way through dinner toward dessert.

  When Tonya arrived, John signaled for quiet and proposed a toast. “To our brave, hard-working elected officials, currently serving and soon-to-be elected. We appreciate your commitment and integrity. Godspeed as you meet the challenges before you. We’re proud of you.” John raised his glass. “To Tonya and Alex.” The group followed suit and raised their glasses, amid a chorus of “Hear, hear!”

  Tonya rose. “To the best citizens one could hope to represent, to our beloved Westbury, and to our next mayor, Alex Scanlon!” Once more, the group raised their glasses.

  The conversation turned serious when Tim asked Alex about his campaign and the obstacles he anticipated. “We now need to get the word out about the corruption at Town Hall and the need for new leadership. There are still people out there who don’t know what’s been going on. And we need to turn out the vote for me. We don’t want anyone to feel that they can’t make a difference.”

  Maggie added, “We’ll file the petitions with the town clerk to-morrow. I’m going to get door hangers and mailers printed up right away. Alex will begin speaking whenever and wherever he can. If he isn’t available, I’ll speak on his behalf. The first ‘meet the candidate’ coffee at Rosemont will be next Sunday afternoon.”

  “What do you need help with?” Tim asked.

  “We’ll need people to distribute the door hangers. Talk with your neighbors and co-workers. Line up speaking engagements. Just let me know when and where you’d like him to appear. I’ll keep the master calendar. Can we count on all of you?”

  “Absolutely,” Joan said as Tim and Beth nodded. “We’re with you all the way,” Sam added.

  John checked his watch and reluctantly pushed his chair back. “I hate to break this up, but I have surgery at six in the morning.”

  “And we’ve all got a big day on the campaign trail tomorrow.” Maggie observed. “Let’s get a good night’s sleep and get cracking first thing.”

  Chapter 31

  The next seven weeks flew by in a blur of activity. Everyone in attendance at Pete’s that night was as good as his or her word. Literature was distributed. Signs were posted in every yard. Alex was in and out of living rooms, church basements, school cafeterias, and even parking lots every single night; meeting citizens, listening to their concerns, and outlining solutions. He was even busier on the weekends. Maggie acted as his stand-in and spoke almost as often as he did.

  With the short campaign season, they didn’t want to turn down any opportunity to reach voters, no matter how small. Maggie was so busy that the hoped-for cozy evening with John didn’t materialize. They both managed to get the all clear on their blood tests, which fueled their fire to get together. They just couldn’t find the time. Instead, they texted during the day and talked on the phone every night, usually in the wee hours, rehashing the events of the day and the challenges ahead. John attended all of the Sunday afternoon “meet the candidate” coffees at Rosemont. And through all of this, Maggie managed to keep her consulting practice going and her clients happy. She was at once exhausted by the constant rushing around and exhilarated by the warm response she unfailingly received from everyone she addressed.

  During one such busy Sunday afternoon, Frank Haynes set out for the freeway, and instead of getting into the eastbound lane that would take him home, he headed west. Like a stalker seeking his prey, he was fixated on Rosemont. He accelerated as he entered the freeway and opened his moon roof so that the air rushed pleasantly around his ears. A perverse smile spread across his brittle lips. Maybe losing this election would sour her on Westbury and prompt her to sell Rosemont.

  Exhilarated, he settled comfortably into the leather seat and tuned in to the business news. Before long, he was slipping his car into his usual spot in the wide berm on the road below Rosemont; the same spot where he had observed the carnival set-up. It afforded a good view of most of the backyard and one side of Rosemont. He couldn’t see anyone in the yard. Windows on the first floor were lit, but he couldn’t make out any detail with his unaided eye. He reached into his glove box and retrieved the expensive binoculars he bought recently from that insufferable salesclerk who actually believed that he wanted them for bird watching.

  The binoculars were excellent for his purpose. He finally located a group of four people in what appeared to be a living room. He recognized Maggie, Scanlon, and two other men he couldn’t identify. One of them might have been that realtor, Knudsen, but he couldn’t be sure. Maggie was on the move, pointing to a flipchart. One of the men rose to retrieve a stack of papers. Try as he might, he couldn’t read anything on the flipchart. They’re working it, that’s for sure. He silently cursed. And working it hard. This isn’t a whim on Scanlon’s part. He’s out to win this election. I need to find out if they’re gaining ground on Isaac.

  Haynes swung his car onto the roadway as he punched a number on his speed dial. The recipient picked up right away. “I’ve got another job for you,” Haynes barked before the other party could utter a word.

  ***

  The man slipped unobtrusively into the back of the crowd as candidate Scanlon was introduced to the small group of retired veterans assembled at the VFW hall. Scanlon presented a compelling presentation of the suspected problems with the town’s finances and his suggested solutions, highlighting his experience as a prosecutor. His words were resonating with the crowd. Maggie Martin, looking satisfied with the proceedings, was leaning against a wall near the front.

  The question-and-answer session showed Scanlon to be even more effective off-the-cuff. By the end, he was generating spontaneous applause to almost every answer. The crowd was hooked on each word he said. No doubt about it, Scanlon had charisma. His opponent may have seriously underestimated Alex Scanlon. It looked like this election would be a real horse race.

  The man exited quietly. He wasn’t looking forward to being the bearer of bad news to Frank Haynes, but it had to be done. He pulled out his phone and dialed the familiar number.

  ***

  Frank Haynes was, predictably, not pleased with the report on candidate Scanlon’s successful outing at the VFW Hall. This was supposed to be a cakewalk for Isaac. He was an incumbent, for God’s sake. The last thing they needed was to have an ex-prosecutor in the mayoral seat, poking into things. Damn it!

  He pushed his chair back abruptly from his desk and began to pace. The VFW was just one appearance, but judging by the number of Scanlon signs popping up in storefronts and on lawns all over town, Scanlon’s campaign was gaining momentum. He raked his hands through his well-manicured hair. They had to do something to stop him. Fast. And he couldn’t look for help from Delgado and his goons. The fires were still being investigated.

  He’d already had Scanlon investigated for past indiscretions and come up empty-handed. The guy was a saint. Haynes tore off his tie and shoved it in his open briefcase. The idea hit him on his last lap around his desk. Get rid of Maggie Martin. Or at least neutralize her. Have Isaac meet with her like she had been pestering him to do since their conversation at the restaurant. Listen to all of her questions and ideas. Praise her for her insight and hard work. Flatter her by agreeing to appoint her to Isaac’s open council seat when he was elected mayor. Convince her that she could put her time and talents to good use for the town after the election was over. They’d announce that she was part of their team to revitalize Westbury.

  Haynes settled back into his chair and breathed deeply. It was a brilliant plan. When there was something in it for them, people usually gave up their allegiances and threw in with their self-interests. Hell, if she told Scanlon, he’d probably encourage her to take them up on their offer. And she wouldn’t be able to work on his campaign anymore. That might just slow Scanlon down enough to allow Isaac to win.

  He rested his chin on steepled fingers. They wouldn’t actually appoint her to the council, of course. They’d come up with some plausible reason—most likely her short tenure
in Westbury. And that might tick her off enough to send her packing, with him waiting in the wings with a low-ball offer for Rosemont. With a smirk plastered firmly on his lips, he walked out to his secretary and directed her to get Russell Isaac on the phone.

  ***

  Maggie absent-mindedly fidgeted with the cap of the water bottle the clerk had given her while she waited for Russell Isaac to finish up whatever business he was attending to down the hall. She was in a windowless office in the back of his auto parts store. Maggie turned anxiously as footsteps approached, only to be disappointed when they passed on by. She had a million things to do and was fuming at the rudeness of being called to this meeting and then kept waiting. I ought to get up and leave, she thought—all the while knowing that she would do no such thing. Maggie had been surprised when she received Isaac’s call inviting her to meet with him. After all of her unreturned phone calls to him, she had given up. And, now, here she was. Alex was probably right—Isaac had an ulterior motive. Well, she would be ready for him. He wasn’t going to trap her into revealing anything.

  Her reverie was interrupted as Frank Haynes strode into the room, hand outstretched and a smile arranged on his face. “Maggie, how are you?” he said as she stood and they shook hands. “No, please—sit. How’s that dog of yours?”

  “She’s just fine, Frank. Thank you for asking. But you didn’t invite me here to talk about dogs. Where’s Mayor Isaac?”