Riley thought it over. “Sure. I don’t see why not. If it works, they’ll be grateful to me and to Mega Seed.”
“Exactly. We won’t have the results until next fall’s harvest, but I guarantee they’ll be pleased with the way the seed performs.”
“When do you want to give it out?”
“After the debate. We don’t want voters to know you have a corporate backer, just yet. Mega Seed is making this offer exclusive to you.”
Riley felt real important. “I like that.”
“I knew you would.” Brown pulled a thin sheet of paper out of his pants pocket. “This is from their research office. It lays out the talking points they want emphasized when the time comes.”
Riley took the brightly colored brochure and gave it a cursory once-over.
“Study up on it, so you’ll be prepared to answer questions at the big giveaway.”
He nodded. “Will do.”
“I’ll talk to you in a few days. Jane will show you out.”
As he departed, Riley was again bothered by Brown’s abrupt dismissal, but decided not to get upset. After all, he was now being backed by Mega Seed.
Driving home, he wondered how much exclusive spokesmen were paid.
SHEILA, LILY, AND Crystal were in Lily’s Lady Cave brainstorming the campaign.
“How’s this for a slogan? ‘Sheila Payne. A Vote for Henry Adams’s Future.’” Sheila turned to gauge their reactions.
“I like that,” Lily said. “Has a nice ring to it, as folks used to say.”
Crystal nodded. “I like it, too. I took a marketing class last year and one of the things we learned was: simple is better. I think it’s a nice slogan.”
Sheila was pleased. The slogan was specific without being over the top and paired well with her vision as the new mayor.
Crystal said, “I’ll do some sketches of flyers and posters and have them ready for you to look at by the next meeting.”
“That would be wonderful.”
Lily said, “Then I’ll find a local printing company that won’t break your budget.”
“Please. Getting elected and having to live in the poorhouse won’t be a good look.”
They smiled in agreement.
Lily asked, “Anything else we need to tackle today?”
They’d discussed the budget, the artwork, finding a photographer to take Sheila’s picture and worked on refining her message. “I think we’re done for now.”
“Okay.”
Sheila and Crystal gathered their things. As they exited, they passed through the kitchen where Trent was at the stove frying shrimp.
“Smells good out here, Trent,” Sheila said.
“Thanks. How’d the meeting go?”
“Went well,” she replied. And it had.
“Okay. Pulling for you and Barrett.”
“You only get to vote once, Mr. July,” Lily pointed out. “You know that, right?”
“Yes, Mrs. July, but I can still support the only sane people on the ballot. I love my great-uncle Thad, but no way am I giving him or Riley my vote.”
Sheila was glad to hear that, although she was sure Trent planned to choose Barrett on election day. She told herself that was okay. The men were good friends.
Lily walked them to the front door, and they said their goodbyes. Crystal got into her little car and drove away. Sheila crossed the street to her home and went inside.
Preston was at the dining table with his trigonometry book. He looked up. “How was your meeting?”
“It was good. How are you?”
“Be better if I understood this formula.”
She laid her jacket on the chair and peered down at the page. “Which one?”
He pointed to it.
“Try this.”
She picked up his pencil and worked the problem, explaining as she went. He stared at her as if she’d suddenly turned into Beyoncé. “You can do trig?”
Sheila chuckled softly. “I was president of the math club in college.”
His eyes widened more. “How come you never said anything?”
“I was raised not to brag about my intellect. My parents were convinced I’d never find a husband if men knew how smart I was.”
“That’s dumb.”
“True but I was encouraged to play dumb.”
“Leah is smarter than me in a lot of ways, but I like that she’s a brainiac.”
“Many men don’t, though.”
“Does Pops know you can do an advance trig problem in under a minute?”
She sighed and thought about her issues with Barrett.
He answered for her. “He doesn’t like it, does he?”
“I don’t really know, Preston. I didn’t tell him about my smarts until the day I decided to run for mayor. He was more upset by my candidacy than anything else.”
“That’s dumb, too.”
She gave his shoulders a squeeze. “You’re an awesome young man, Preston Mays Payne. Stay that way, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Your pops won’t be home until late.”
“I know. He sent me a text about him staying after work to install the new cameras.”
Barrett was upgrading the grocery store’s surveillance equipment. “How about we do something simple for dinner like pancakes?”
His eyes lit up. “Awesome.”
Because he’d had such an awful life before coming to Henry Adams, every time Sheila pleased Preston her heart swelled with love. “Need any more help with your trig?”
He shook his head. “That was the only problem I couldn’t figure out. Thanks, Mom.”
“You’re welcome. Would you fry the bacon while I make the pancake batter?”
“Sure. Let me take my books to my room and wash my hands. Be right back.”
As he ran up the stairs she headed to the kitchen to start the batter.
While they shared the cooking duties, they talked about school and other teen things.
“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about Robyn anymore. She and Leah are good friends now.”
“That’s good to hear.” Sheila flipped the three pancakes in the skillet and waited for them to brown.
“She and Reverend Paula are going to Oklahoma this weekend to see Robyn’s grandmother in jail. Robyn doesn’t really want to go but said she felt bad about the rev going alone.”
“I’m sure Paula could handle the trip without her.”
“Leah tried to tell her that, but Robyn said she wanted to go and get it over with because she’d probably never go again.”
“That’s sad.”
“Yeah.” He used a pair of tongs to take the bacon strips out of the skillet and let them drain on a paper towel–covered plate. “I think they’re going to see about selling her great-grandfather’s house, too. He left it to the rev, Robyn said.”
“I didn’t know about them going to Oklahoma. I’ve been spending my time on the internet and at the Franklin library doing research for my campaign platform, so I’ve missed some things.”
They moved their now done dinner to the table. Preston said grace and they dug in. Pouring syrup on her pancakes, Sheila asked, “Anything I’ve missed in the Henry Adams world of teens?”
“Yeah. Amari decided he and Tiff aren’t going to be official.”
She paused. “Why not?”
“Because he won’t let her walk him like a dog on a leash.”
“And that means?”
“She’s kind of controlling. Change that. She’s big-time controlling. Leah said Tiff gets that from their mom.”
“I see.”
“He got mad at her after she wanted to look through his phone to make sure he wasn’t talking to other girls.”
“Doesn’t trust him?”
He shook his head.
“Good relationships are built on trust.” Barrett’s affair with Marti taught her all about misplaced trust.
“Is there a way I can help with your campaign? I’m going to
ask Pops too, so he won’t think I’m playing favorites.”
“If you could put up signs and pass out flyers at Movie Night when the time comes, that would be helpful.”
“That sounds easy. Do you think you can win?”
“Some men, and women too, have issues with a woman running for office, but if I can overcome that I think I have a good chance. Your pops is the only other candidate I’m worried about. He’d make a good mayor. I’d make a better one, though.”
Preston smiled. “I like that you’re all about you, Mom.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah. Shows you’re confident.”
“It’s how I feel. I just wish I’d felt this way earlier in life.”
“Reverend Paula tells us kids that we can’t do anything about our past so look forward, not back.”
“Wise words.”
“Hard words, though. Sometimes I wish I could go back and stop stuff—like my bio dad dying in the car accident, or some kind of way of making the foster mother who wouldn’t buy me an inhaler a better person so I wouldn’t have to set her house on fire.”
“I think we all wish we could go back and change things, but that might alter where we are today. Who knows if you and I would be family then. I like having you as my son.”
“And I like being your son. Not many kids get to have two awesome moms.”
“You are blessed.” Preston had a good relationship with his bio mom, NASA scientist Dr. Margaret Winthrop. She became pregnant with him while in college. The wealthy Winthrops were descendants of a free black Revolutionary War soldier and her parents were appalled that Preston’s father, the brilliant Lawrence Mays, grew up poor in Philly’s inner city. They pressured Margaret to put the baby up for adoption. Before the two students could marry, Lawrence died in a car accident. A grieving Margaret, tired of fighting her parents, surrendered her son to the state’s adoption agency and walked out of their lives. Margaret was currently searching for Lawrence’s family. She wanted Preston to have closure and Sheila did, too. They both loved their son enough to not be threatened by connecting him with the Mayses, who would undoubtedly love him just as much.
After dinner, they cleaned up the kitchen. Preston went up to his room to finish his homework and hang out online with his telescope crew. Sheila settled in with a book she’d been reading to wait for Barrett to arrive. He’d been coming home later and later the past few days. He attributed it to the preliminary work tied to the store’s upgraded security system. Sheila didn’t believe him. She thought it had more to do with his moping over the election, but she kept her opinion to herself. His fragile ego made her as unhappy as his cheating had done.
OVER AT CLARK’S Grocery, Barrett put the schematics for the new security system into a drawer of his filing cabinet, took a seat at his desk, and opened the containers holding his dinner from the Dog. By all rights, he should be eating at home, but he didn’t want to argue with Sheila and he could feel himself on the cusp.
A light knock on his opened door caused him to glance over and into the face of Gary Clark who said, “I thought you’d gone home. What are you doing still here?”
“We got done so late, I figured Sheila and Preston have already eaten, so I had a delivery sent over.” In response to the skepticism on Gary’s face, Barrett asked, “What?”
“It’s the second time this week.”
“Are you counting?”
“I am. Is something going on at home?”
Barrett looked away.
“Are you still upset about Sheila running for mayor?”
“And if I am?”
“You need to talk to Paula.”
“Warriors don’t talk to people about their problems.”
“So, you do admit to having a problem.”
Barrett bristled. He’d been tripped up by his own words. He didn’t like it.
“Man, you’re too good a person to be drowning in your own misogyny.”
“Misogyny?”
“Yeah. Chauvinism, antifemale.”
“I know what the word means, Gary, and I’m not that.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
“Then what’s the issue?”
“She refuses to drop out.”
“Why should she?”
“Because her husband is running.”
“So, it’s not so much misogyny as it is patriarchy?”
Barrett stared. “What is it with you and these feminist buzzwords?”
“I live with two bright, independent daughters, and I’m in love with an equally independent woman. I try and see the world through their eyes.”
Barrett shook his head. This was not a conversation he wanted to have. “Men are supposed to lead.”
“Lead, where?”
“In things that matter, and this election matters.”
“In other words, what you want overrides what Sheila wants because you’re the man? Am I hearing you right?”
Tripped up again, Barrett glared. “How about you go home and let me eat in peace.”
“You got it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
After Gary’s departure, Barrett started in on his food. He’d never considered himself a chauvinist, at least not overtly, but admittedly the man being the head was how he’d been raised. He was a third-generation member of the Armed Forces and grew up watching his grandfather and then his father be the family decision makers. For the most part those decisions had been sound. Both his grandmother and mother worked outside the home: the former as a teacher, the latter as a nurse, so he had no problems with women and employment. Yet they’d deferred to their husbands in just about every way. If they disagreed, it was never expressed, at least not within his hearing. He thought back on the abuse his mother suffered at his father’s hands but turned his mind away from those painful memories. What mattered now was that throughout his marriage to Sheila, she’d been deferential as well. Was this change in her really just her way of asserting herself, or tied to something more? Her claim of hiding her true self so he could shine brighter also gave him pause. All this time, he assumed she was content being in the background because she saw that as her role, and frankly, because he felt it his due, being the man and all. In his world, few military wives called themselves feminists, at least not on base. Now he had to wonder how they truly viewed themselves. He didn’t want to be thinking about this; he simply wanted to run for mayor, not flounder in a marital version of the Corps Crucible that had him lost and in the dark.
After finishing his dinner, Barrett left the store to the cleaners and stockers of the night crew and drove home. Sheila was on the couch. Beyoncé was on the flat screen strutting and singing. At his entrance, Sheila paused the program. “Hey there.” He saw her studying his face as if gauging his mood.
“Hey.”
“The new system up and running?”
“It’s installed. Testing starts in the morning. How are you?”
“I’m fine. How was your day?”
“Okay.”
“Have you eaten?”
He nodded. “Had a delivery from the Dog.”
“Oh.”
He heard the disappointment in her voice. “I didn’t know how long the work on the system would take.”
“I see. Preston and I had breakfast for dinner. Pancakes.”
They were trying not to acknowledge the elephant in the room and he certainly had no plans to do so. He turned his attention to the flat screen. “Is this the one with her and the bat?”
She chuckled, “No, this is the documentary she made during the run up to Coachella. It’s amazing. These independent young women are in charge of their lives in ways that are so impressive.”
He’d had enough about independent impressive women. “I’ll let you get back to it. Going to check in with Preston, and then I have some reading to do.”
She nodded.
He headed to the steps.
“Barrett?” she called softly.
He paused.
“I’m sorry this election is difficult for you.”
He didn’t know how to respond to her sincerity, so he offered a tense nod and climbed the stairs.
Preston was at his desk with his laptop open. “Hey, Pops. How’s the new system?”
“Testing starts in the morning. How are you?” It had taken Barrett and Preston quite some time to bond as father and son, but now their connection was stronger than Barrett ever dreamed it would be.
“I’m good. Learned something amazing today.”
Barrett smiled. “And that is?”
“Mom’s a trig master.”
Barrett was confused. “Trig, as in trigonometry?”
“Yeah, I was having issues with a problem, and she showed me how to work it in like less than a minute. Said she was president of the math club in college. Did you know that?”
Barrett shook his head. “No.” One more thing to add to the list of things Sheila had never divulged.
“I think that’s dope,” Preston pointed out, sounding impressed. He scanned Barrett’s face for a moment. Always perceptive, Preston asked, “You’re not happy she’s running against you, are you?”
Barrett didn’t lie. “No. Suppose you were going to run for say, president of the Physics Club and Leah decided she was going to run, too. How would you feel?”
“Honestly? I be psyched. We like competing against each other. We do it with homework to see who finishes first. Sometimes I win, sometimes she does. If we were up against each other, we’d probably make a crazy bet and then go at it.” He went silent for a moment, taking in Barrett again. “I guess you don’t see it that way?”
“No.”
“This isn’t going to make you want a divorce, is it?”
Barrett knew issues between him and Sheila had worried their son in the past, and he didn’t want this current disagreement to be of concern. “No. I’m just disappointed that she wants to be mayor, too.”
“Why?”
“Hard to explain.”
“Maybe talk to Reverend Paula. She’s really good at helping figure stuff out. Nobody listens better than the rev.”
He shook his head. “I’ll deal with it on my own.”
Preston shrugged. “Okay, but I’m proud of Mom and you, too. I think you’d both be great as the next mayor.”
On the Corner of Hope and Main Page 11