The Book Charmer

by Karen Hawkins

  “Ms. Wheeler, please. I don’t want to fire you. I really don’t. You’ve been an exceptional employee. Why, I’ve never seen the records in such good shape and you’ve only been here a few weeks! But . . . look, I am an elected official first and foremost.”

  “So?”

  “So—” He glanced at the open door, climbed to his feet, and closed the door. When he came back, he dropped into his chair like a bag of wet sand, his shoulders slumped. “If you don’t take back the chairmanship, I could lose my job.”

  “How?”

  “Someone will run against me in the next election. That has never happened.”

  “Wait. No one has ever run against you? Not once?”

  “No,” he admitted. “Well, there was talk one year that Mr. Philbin, who owned the Seed and Feed store down on SR 20, might run, but fortunately, he died before he could get enough petition signatures.”

  “Fortunately?”

  The mayor flushed. “You know what I mean. But now there’s talk that someone else is considering a run.”

  Who could possibly be running for mayor that had anything to do with the— Oh no. “Zoe Bell.”

  He nodded miserably.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “She’s going to do it.” He edged forward in his seat. “Last week, I was at the bank standing in line to make my mortgage payment and I heard her telling one of the clerks that she’d hired a company to do some market research on a special project.”

  “And?”

  “When she saw me, she shut up and then hurried away as if upset I’d overheard her.”

  “She could have been talking about anything.”

  “The next day, I saw her in the post office asking Mark Robinson how much it would cost to do a mailing. A mass mailing of all registered voters.”

  “Oh.”

  He nodded. “See? I saw her again in the drugstore two days after that, and she was buying clipboards and pens.”

  “So?”

  “She’ll need to do a petition in order to get on the ballot,” he said impatiently. “And she acted very odd when she saw me. I was still hoping that maybe I was wrong, that it was just a set of coincidences. But then, this weekend, my worst suspicions were confirmed. There is no doubt about it now.”

  “What happened?”

  “I saw her in Kat Carter’s yard. Kat lives across the street from me. They had two signs stuck in the yard, and they were comparing them and talking about them. The second they saw me, they grabbed them up and tried to put them in the trunk of Zoe’s car, but Kat dropped one and I got a clear look at it. It said, ‘Zoe Bell for Mayor: A Fresh Start.’ ” He shook his head as if trying to shake the vision from his eyes. “We can’t have that. The Bells are a Dove Pond institution. If anyone in the Bell family ran for mayor, even their cat, they’d win.”

  “That’s an exaggeration.”

  “No, it’s not. Half this town owes them money, so they’re well-funded enough to buy any election they want to. And you made things worse when you let Zoe take charge of the social club. She’ll claim that’s experience.”

  “Organizing a festival and running a town—that’s not quite the same thing.”

  “Voters don’t know that. It’s the perfect platform on which to kick me out of office. I have no doubt she’ll throw the best Apple Festival we’ve ever had and then walk around it, handing out flyers and kissing babies and acting as if the entire thing was her own private election party.” He cursed under his breath. “We have to get that chairmanship back.” He turned an accusing glare toward Grace. “You have to get it back.”

  “How?”

  “You’re going to march into the social club meeting this afternoon and reclaim the damn thing. Tell them you didn’t know what you were saying because you were sick, or hallucinating from hunger, or you’d just hit your head on a filing cabinet, or— Damn it, I don’t care what you say, just get the chairmanship back!”

  “I can’t.”

  “You must. This is war, Ms. Wheeler. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a Bell, even a pretty one, steal my job.”

  “I hardly think running against you for public office in a fair election is ‘stealing.’ ”

  He clasped his hands together, his anger disappearing as pure desperation appeared to set in. “Ms. Wheeler, please, please, please. Do it for me and I’ll—I’ll give you some extra days off or—or order you a brand-new desk. Maybe, if I move some things around in the budget and we don’t do Christmas decorations this year, I could give you a little raise and—”

  “Whoa! No, sir. That’s out-and-out bribery and it’s illegal. Besides, I’m not going to be the cause of the town not having Christmas. That’s just wrong.”

  His shoulders slumped, his watery blue eyes sadder than those of any puppy she’d ever seen. “What am I going to do?”

  “Why don’t you run for office for real this time? You know, find some issues that would appeal to the voters?”

  He looked at her as if she’d suggested he cut off his own head and hang it on one of his fishing hooks.

  “Not your thing?” she said drily.

  “It wouldn’t help. It’s like I said, the Bells have a lock on this town. There aren’t enough issues in the world to overcome that huge advantage.”

  She nodded as if she agreed, although she didn’t. But to be honest, he already looked beaten. Despite herself, she felt sorry for him. As weak as he was, he was a nice person. A little selfish at times, but she’d bet he’d never said “boo” to a fly.

  He needed a festival, then fine, she’d do it. But she wasn’t about to commit to accepting more work without getting something back. She thought about it for a long moment, then finally she said, “Friday afternoons off.”

  Hope bloomed on his florid face. “That’s possible, I suppose.”

  “And until we’re caught up, you’ll do four hours of data entry a day.”

  He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Every day.”

  “Now, wait a minute—”

  “I’ll take back the festival committee, and you’ll catch up on the data entry each and every morning.”

  “Then what will you do in the mornings?”

  “My job. I have tax records to record, licenses to file, voter records to keep up to date—” She shot him an impatient look. “You know my job description.”

  He was silent a moment. “I have to do all the data entry?”

  “Every last keystroke.”

  He sank back into his seat. “I can’t do that! I’m the mayor, not the town clerk. Data entry is your job.”

  “And running an election is yours.”

  “I can’t do the data entry. I’d have to be here every morning and—” He shook his head, looking like a toddler who’d been denied a lollipop. “No.”

  “Fine.” She stood. “If you don’t need anything else, I’ll be getting to work. I’d offer to help with your campaign signs, but I’ll be too busy doing data entry.”

  She made it all the way to the door and had her hand on the knob when he called out, “Wait!”

  She turned around and crossed her arms.

  “Fine, fine,” he said, looking as petulant as Daisy. “I’ll do the stupid data entry.”

  “And my half day off on Friday?”

  “Two hours, but just for this month.”

  “Three hours every Friday until Daisy starts school.”

  “Look, you’re already getting—”

  “Say yes or I walk.”

  He grumbled under his breath, looking furious, but after a moment, he gave a curt nod. “Fine, fine. Whatever you want. Just don’t leave Zoe in charge of the festival.”

  “Done. I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to convince her to give it up—she really wanted the job. Her hand shot up the second I asked for volunteers.”

  “I’m sure she about jumped out of her seat. Zoe Bell might be pretty as the day is long, but she’s hard as nails un
der that painted surface. She’s her father’s daughter, that one.”

  Ah, but Grace was Mama G’s daughter, which was even better. “I’ll figure it out. Do you know what time the meeting starts?”

  “Three.”

  “Good. That’ll give me almost seven hours to prepare, won’t it?”

  “There you go!” Mayor Moore thumped his desk with his fist as if stamping his approval. “You go and show them that Zoe Bell is not the only one in this town who is tough as nails. I believe in you, Grace Wheeler. This is war, and I know you won’t let me down.”

  Grace thought of a thousand things she could say in response, none of them polite enough to air. “I’ll bring the data entry folders to you now.”

  His smile faltered. “Can’t we start tomorrow? I was planning on fishing.”

  “If you start now, you can leave at lunch and fish all afternoon.” Ignoring his pout, she returned to her desk and gathered the huge stack of folders and carried them back to his office. It took her the better part of an hour to get him started, as he knew nothing of the new computer system, but he eventually figured it out and, with much grumbling, began the tedious work.

  She returned to her desk, admiring how empty it looked without the stacks of folders weighing it down. What should she do first? If she’d had the folder from the festival, she’d have started going through it and developing a thorough to-do list, but she’d given the folder to Zoe at the last meeting. Grace supposed that the least she could do was a quick run-through of the festival funding. Fortunately, the current town budget would have that information.

  Where had she seen the annual budget? Ah, yes. It had been filed under STUFF. She shook her head at Mrs. Phelps’s lack of organization and reached into her satchel for the keys to the filing cabinet. As she did so, she found something bulky and heavy resting on the keys.

  Frowning, she pulled it out, and was surprised to find the book Little Women, the same one she’d left in the breadbox over a week ago. How in the heck did this end up in my satchel? I didn’t— Ah. Mama G. Just yesterday Grace had found Mama G’s hairbrush stuck in a fireplace vent. She still wasn’t sure what was happening with that.

  Grace found her keys and dropped the book back in her satchel, then tucked it beside her desk. She wasn’t surprised Mama G had latched onto this particular book. She was living more and more in the past, and Little Women was a reminder of their home in Whitlow.

  Grace rose and unlocked the file cabinets. She found the budget and carried it back to her desk. As she sat down, it struck her that the mayor’s information about Zoe Bell’s run for office seemed rather . . . convenient. A niggling suspicion made her wonder if something was off about the entire situation. But what?

  She replayed the conversation in her mind, remembering the short meeting where Zoe had jumped at the chance to be the chair. It all fit, but still . . . Her gaze absently dropped to her satchel, the book’s mustard binding in bright contrast against the dark leather.

  When Grace and Hannah had first arrived at Mama G’s house, every night before bed, Mama G had read Little Women to them. Hannah, who’d never been a reader, would fall asleep after the first few pages, but Grace had been absorbed by the antics of the lively March family. The sisters were close and loving, the mother kind and caring. Even when they fought, as they sometimes did, they only came to love one another more. How Grace had wanted a family like that. Even now she could repeat long segments, especially the plays that Jo and her sisters loved to perform for their mother and—

  The plays.

  Grace stared at the book, her mind locked on a fascinating idea. The idea firmed up and crystallized, so clear she could almost see it.

  She reached into the satchel and pulled out the book, leaving it on her lap as she stared at it. They couldn’t have, she told herself. There is no way.

  But they had. She was as sure of it as if she’d witnessed it herself. “Holy machinations, Batman,” she whispered to herself. “What a pack of small-town connivers.”

  She didn’t know whether she was more irritated or amused, but after a moment, she dropped the book back into her satchel.

  Well, well, well. This was going to be an interesting meeting.

  Shaking her head, she flipped open the budget file and grabbed a notepad so she could write down the festival information. She’d just finished listing the line items that had to do with the festival when, as a matter of habit, she absently scanned the rest of the page, adding up the sums.

  She hadn’t gone far when she frowned.

  That couldn’t be right.

  She pushed her notepad to the side and pulled out her calculator. For the next hour and a half, she added up numbers, over and over, turning through the pages and occasionally getting up to pull other files from the cabinet and compare their numbers to those in the budget.

  Finally, her desk covered with a raft of opened files and papers, she leaned back in her chair and let out her breath in a long whoosh. Surely this was wrong. It had to be.

  There was only one person who would know. She stacked the papers together, slid them back into their folders, and carried them into the mayor’s office.

  Ten minutes later, she returned to her desk, holding the folders close and walking slowly as if she were wading through molasses.

  It was true. All of it.

  She sank into her chair, put the files on her desk, and stared at them, her mind racing a hundred ways to Tuesday.

  Mayor Moore was right about one thing: it was war. But it wasn’t the war he’d thought it would be. Worse, Grace was pretty sure it was one that she, and everyone in Dove Pond, would lose.

  CHAPTER 10

  Sarah

  Erma Tingle looked at the clock over the door of the library conference room. “Where is she?” She turned a glum look on Zoe.

  The younger woman snapped shut her compact mirror with which she’d just touched up her red lipstick. “She’ll be here. Wait and see.” She sat at the head of the room, her legs crossed at the ankle and resting on the table.

  Sarah rather liked the red soles of Zoe’s shoes. While Sarah never wore high heels, she decided that if she did, she’d want some with red soles. She pushed the plate of coffee cake to the middle of the table so that it was more reachable. “Anyone want more cake? There’re two more pieces.”

  “No, thank you.” Kat looked at Ava. “That was hard to say. I could eat that all day.”

  “I’ll have another piece.” Nate slid some cake onto a napkin and pulled it across the table until it rested in front of him.

  “If no one is going to have that last piece . . . ?” Ed looked around the table.

  “Forget the damn cake,” Erma said in a waspish tone. She leaned forward, favoring Zoe with a suspicious look. “You’re sure Grace’ll be the chairman?”

  Zoe gave a smug smile. “Oh, she’ll be the chairman all right.”

  “I rode to work with her this morning,” Sarah said. “I asked her if she was okay with the way things had turned out with the social committee and she said she was, but now that I think about it, I’m not sure she knew. Zoe, when did you do the sign trick?”

  “Saturday morning.”

  “Ah. I bet she didn’t know.” And Sarah had been so glad Grace hadn’t been mad. “I bet Mayor Moore didn’t say a word until today, the idiot.”

  Nate eyed Zoe curiously. “What sign trick?”

  Zoe smiled. “You don’t need the details. Just rest assured that I used wile and deception. They are my two biggest attributes.”

  “That’s rather terrifying,” Nate said, although he looked more intrigued than anything else.

  Erma snorted. “Zoe, girl, I wouldn’t brag about that.”

  “I don’t know,” Ava said, musingly. “They can be very effective traits to have.”

  Kat agreed. “Especially when used together.”

  “I just hope Grace gets here soon.” Ed Mayhew finished the last piece of cake and opened his bottle of water. “We’v
e got a new shipment of dog collars coming in at four and Maggie will need help get—”

  The door flung open.

  At first glance, Grace looked much as she had this morning—neatly encased in a tailored power suit with the hemline just so, her dark hair pinned into a neat bun at the nape of her neck. But that was where the “usual” ended. Her gaze, usually so guarded, blazed from within as if the fires of Hades lit her soul. She walked across the room, a stack of multicolored files gripped tightly to her chest.

  Sarah had to fight the urge to stand up and cheer. Angry or not, this woman was going to save them all. I know it. I just know it.

  Grace cast her fiery glance around the table. Erma gulped, and Ava, who always seemed amused whenever drama happened, gave a silent, appreciative whistle. Ed looked as if he might make a lunge for an open window, while Nate became busy adjusting his watch. Only Kat offered a greeting, a cautious wave hello.

  Sarah stood. “Grace, how nice to see you. We didn’t expect—”

  “Stuff it.” Grace dropped her folders on the table where Zoe sat, her feet still resting on the surface. “Nice shoes. Now move.”

  Zoe dropped her feet to the floor and collected her purse and notepad. “Of course you’d want the head seat. That makes sense.” She patted the fat folder Grace had given her before. “I’ll just leave this here so you—”

  “Go sit down.” Grace cut her an icy look. “And for the love of heaven, stop pretending.”

  Zoe grinned. “Who’s pretending?”

  Sarah had to admire Zoe’s chutzpah. She didn’t seem at all fazed by Grace’s scorching fury.

  Grace dropped her stack of folders on the table and eyed Zoe. “Not even going to deny it, are you?”

  Zoe shrugged. “Why bother?”

  “You are a piece of work.”

  “Thank you.” Zoe couldn’t have looked more pleased. “I decided it’s for the best if we just get it out in the open and move on. Besides, it’s obvious you’ve figured things out. I knew you would.”

  Nate leaned close to Sarah and whispered, “What the hell’s going on?”