Harmony Cabins (11 page)

Darius stepped closer. “You know that your mayoral campaign would not be a good idea for this family.”

“Who are you to tell me what to do? I can do whatever I choose.”

“Not if it's going to hurt other people, although I realize you're probably too selfish to even consider that.”

Simon pointed a finger in Darius's face. “Watch your mouth, son.”

Darius held his ground. “Before you go any further with your pursuit of public office, you'd better consider the things in your life that you don't want brought to light.”

Simon searched Darius's expression. “What are you talking about?”

Darius's temper spiked. “Don't pretend not to know.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” Simon turned away.

The movement exposed his lie. Simon may not realize Darius was aware of his secret, but his father knew damn well his closet hid skeletons.

Darius glared at his father's back. “Yes, you do. You may not care about the embarrassment, but Mom would be mortified and so would other people. You have no right to do that to them.”

“How would my campaign embarrass your mother?”

“In fairness to Mom, don't pursue this petition. She doesn't want you to run for mayor. You owe it to her to respect her wishes.”

Simon spun back to him. “I've done nothing wrong.”

“Is that the way you're going to play it?”

“If you have something to say, say it.”

“I'm not playing this game with you.”

“Are you interviewing me or not?”

“I'm not.” Darius turned to leave.

Simon's voice stopped him. “You're not the only reporter on the
Monitor
's staff. This will be the first contested mayoral race this town has seen in three terms. It's big news. I'm sure one of the others will jump at the opportunity to interview me.”

Darius gripped the doorknob, then faced his father. “For the record, I won't sign your petition.”

Simon shook with anger. “You're my son. Are you going to vote against your family?”

“Are you still pretending we have one?”

“What do you think is in my past?”

Darius stared at his father. “Was it really that easy for you to forget?” He walked out of the room without waiting for an answer.

 

 

Doreen gripped the coffeepot harder as she watched Simon advance toward the bakery counter at Books & Bakery Saturday morning. Her hand shook as she refilled Sheriff Alonzo Lopez's mug.

“Thank you, Doreen.” Alonzo gripped Doreen's wrist in a firm but gentle hold.

Doreen glanced at the sheriff's mug, now filled to the rim with coffee. She gasped. “I'm sorry.”

The sheriff released her wrist. “No harm done.” His calm drawl soothed her.

“But I didn't leave room for your creamer.”

Laugh lines around his dark eyes deepened. “I'll make room as I drink the coffee.”

Doreen collected his empty breakfast plate. Her smile faded as Simon joined them. She glanced at the copy of
The Trinity Falls Monitor
he carried.

“Morning, Simon. What can I get you?” From the corner of her eye, she caught Alonzo's sharp look. It made her regret her cool tone.

“A cup of coffee, please, Doreen.” Simon settled onto the stool beside the sheriff. “Good morning, Alonzo.”

Alonzo gestured toward the paper Simon rested on the counter between them. “I saw the article about you.”

Simon's eyes lit with pleasure. “Did you, now? What did you think?”

Alonzo sipped his coffee. “It was interesting.”

Doreen listened to the exchange as she set the dirty plate in the bucket beside the coffee station. She placed a mug in front of Simon and filled it with coffee.

“Would you like to sign the petition to add my name to the ballot?” Simon whipped out the sheet of paper he'd tucked into the newspaper.

Doreen couldn't read the look in Alonzo's eyes. “There's no soliciting in Books and Bakery.”

Simon glanced at her. “Trying to stifle your competition, Doreen?”

Her lips trembled, but she managed not to ask,
What competition?
“This isn't about my campaign, Simon. The Trinity Falls Town Center has a no-solicitation policy.” Doreen gestured toward the front of the store. “It's posted clear as day on each shop's door.”

She could read the expression in Alonzo's eyes now. It was relief. The sheriff drank more of his coffee, then stirred cream into his mug.

Simon nudged the other man's arm. “I'll bring the petition by your office later, Sheriff.”

Alonzo picked up his coffee. “I have this weekend off.”

“Oh. That explains why you're not in uniform. Well, I'll bring it by Monday, then.”

“The sheriff's department has a no-solicitation policy also.” Alonzo drained his mug, then stood to take his bill to the nearby cash register.

Simon frowned. “How's a person supposed to get their petition signed?”

“I'm sure you'll think of something.” Doreen attended to the sheriff's bill at the register. “Enjoy your weekend, Alonzo.”

Alonzo accepted his change. “You do the same, Doreen.”

Doreen closed the register as she watched Alonzo disappear into the bookshelves. He looked so different out of uniform—approachable, relaxed, sexy.

There's something about a man
out
of uniform.
Doreen frowned.
Where did that thought come from?

She turned to Simon. “I read your interview as well. It's clear to anyone that you're not taking this campaign seriously.”

He waved the petition. “The nearly one hundred people who've already signed this form don't agree with you.”

“You've collected a hundred signatures?”

Simon nodded with apparent satisfaction. “And there are one hundred more on the website.”

Doreen lost her breath. He was almost halfway to the number of signatures he needed. “Public office is a huge responsibility.”

“I know.” Simon tucked the petition back into his newspaper.

“The Founders Day Celebration is separate from the mayor's office. That's why I'm leading the celebration planning committee instead of Ramona.”

“I know that, too.” Simon folded his arms on the countertop. “Can I have a slice of Boston cream pie?”

Doreen swallowed her impatience and turned to get Simon's pie from the display case. She set the dish and a fork in front of him. “If you're aware of these things, why would you talk about making the success of the sesquicentennial celebration part of your campaign platform?”

“Because the celebration is important to the town. It'll bring in money.” Simon dug into the pie.

“But it shouldn't have a bearing on the campaign.”

Simon shook his head and swallowed more pie. “I disagree.”

Doreen crossed her arms. “That's interesting, particularly since you aren't on any of the committees. What are you doing in support of the event?”

“I got Jack Sansbury to agree to participate in the Founders Day presentation.”

Doreen thought her eyes would pop out of her head. “That wasn't your doing.
Darius
convinced Jack to change his mind.”

Simon grinned. “And Darius is my son.”

The headache started right behind Doreen's eyes. “You're good at taking credit for what other people have done, aren't you?”

His answer was another shrug. “Leo's supporting my campaign.”

Doreen's skin chilled.
My Leonard? The man I've been dating for more than a year?
“What are you talking about?”

“He signed my petition to be added to the election ballot.” Simon brought the sheet back out.

Doreen skimmed the piece of paper until her gaze settled on line seventy-three. She blinked twice, but Leonard's name didn't disappear.

CHAPTER 11

Why was he torturing himself this way? Darius's blood boiled Saturday morning as he sat in his cubicle in
The Trinity Falls Monitor
's building, re-reading the newspaper's article on his father's quest for the mayoral office.

“Now, Darius, if the story bothers you so much, why are you reading it?” Helen Gaston's voice came from behind him.

Darius almost jumped from his skin. His chair squeaked as he spun to face his visitor, almost colliding with her in the process. “Ms. Helen.” He rose to his feet. “What makes you think I'm upset?”

Her faded brown eyes twinkled up at him in her elfish brown face. “My first clue was the way you clutched the edges of the newspaper in your fists, like this.” She clenched her thin hands and scowled in a brief reenactment.

Ignoring her antics, Darius gestured toward the guest chair beside his desk. “Do you have time to visit with me?”

“I'll make the time, young man.” Ms. Helen settled onto the seat. “Why are you working on a Saturday? Are you making overtime?”

Darius returned to his chair, grateful for this distraction. “I won't be here long. What brings you to the paper?”

“I want to place an ad.” Ms. Helen brushed the flowered print of her skirt, then settled her silver handbag on her lap.

“For what?”

She tilted her head. “Why are you asking so many questions? Are you going to write a story about it?”

Darius grinned at her quarrelsome words. “Why are you being so secretive?”

Ms. Helen smoothed her gray hair back toward the thick bun at the nape of her thin neck. “I'm looking for someone to write my memoirs, if you must know.”

Darius's grin vanished. A chill of fear invaded his heart. “Ms. Helen, it's way too early to be thinking about writing your memoirs. You're going to be with us for a very long time.”

Helen Gaston, or “Ms. Helen,” as Trinity Falls residents called her, was a tiny woman who'd been ancient the day Darius had been born. Since then, time had stood still for her. She was a fixture in Trinity Falls, doling advice—solicited or not—and encouraging neighbors, both young and old, through triumphs and challenges. She'd been more of a parent to him than his parents had been. The idea of the town without her was inconceivable.

Ms. Helen rolled her eyes, though the blush on her brown cheeks revealed her pleasure in the compliment. “You're better off keeping your pretty words for your girlfriends, young man. They won't turn my head.”

“If you're determined to write your memoirs, I'd be happy to help you.”

“I appreciate your offer, but it looks like you have your hands full right now.”

Darius followed Ms. Helen's gaze to the newspaper, still open on his desk. “What do you mean?”

Ms. Helen gave him a sympathetic look. “You can't mean to let this foolishness continue.”

“What ‘foolishness'?” He didn't feel good about pretending not to understand.

Ms. Helen's face softened into a smile. “I've read every one of your articles since you came back to write for the
Monitor.
I can tell how much you care about this town. I know Simon's your father, but you can't possibly agree with his decision to run for mayor.”

He'd call his father's mayoral aspirations a lot of things, but “foolishness” was an understatement. “What can I do about it?”

“Stop him.”

The muscles in the back of Darius's neck screamed with tension. “Ms. Helen, I've tried. He won't listen to me.”

Ms. Helen leaned forward, placing a hand over Darius's. “I know you, Darius. If Simon didn't change his mind, it means you didn't try hard enough.”

“Just because he runs for mayor doesn't mean he'll win. Everyone knows Doreen's the better candidate.”

“So you're just going to give up and hope for the best? That's not like you, Darius. You know you can't separate yourself from Simon's campaign.”

Couldn't I?
Darius remained silent.

“You didn't even write the article about his petition drive.” Ms. Helen sighed. “I read the article. There isn't one part of it that's true. That kind of dishonesty could hurt the town, splitting it between those who believe Simon and those who know the truth. Do you want that for Trinity Falls?”

“No, I don't.”

“Then what are you going to do about it?”

He wished he knew.

 

 

On Saturday night, Doreen welcomed Leonard into her home for dinner. Their menu was steak and potatoes, comfort food. The knowledge he supported Simon's campaign had weighed on her since she'd seen his signature on the petition that morning. Even now, the reality of what he'd done sat at the dining-room table with them like an unwanted guest.

Doreen sliced into her steak. “I was surprised you didn't come into Books and Bakery today.”

Leonard scooped a forkful of mashed potatoes. “I had a lot of errands to run.”

“So many that you had to skip lunch?” Did she sound as witchy as she felt?

Leonard gave her a curious look. “I ate lunch at home.”

Doreen chewed and swallowed a bite of steak, giving herself time to get her temper and her tone under control. “Simon came in today.”

“Oh? What did he want?” Leonard seemed disinterested.

“To talk about his interview in today's
Monitor.
”

Leonard ate more steak and potatoes before answering. “I read it.”

“What did you think of it?”

Leonard shrugged. “It was OK.”

Doreen almost choked on her iced tea. “It was OK that he took credit for things that
I
did?”

“No one's going to believe it.”

“Why not? It ran in the paper.” Doreen drew in a breath. “He also showed me his petition to be added to the mayoral ballot. Your name was on it.”

Leonard looked up from his plate. “He asked me to sign it. I didn't think there was any harm in it.”

Doreen's eyebrows shot up her forehead. “Do you really think Simon's qualified to be mayor of Trinity Falls?”

Leonard cut another slice of steak. “Just because I signed his petition doesn't mean I'm going to vote for him.”

“Simon thinks you are.”

Would he?
Doreen desperately wanted an answer to that.

“I didn't tell him that.” Leonard continued eating.

Doreen lowered her knife and fork. “Then why did you sign his petition?”

“If he wants to run for mayor, he should be able to. Who are we to decide who runs and who doesn't?”

Doreen pushed aside her half-eaten dinner. Tonight the steak and mashed potatoes didn't deliver the comfort they usually gave her. “You surprise me, Leo. You don't have any trouble with Simon running for mayor. But you resent my campaign. Why is that?”

“I'm not in a relationship with Simon.”

Doreen willed Leonard to meet her gaze. “You're supporting Simon's petition because you want someone else to be mayor.”

Leonard finished his dinner. He set his knife and fork on the empty plate. “I'm not going to campaign for Simon, if that's what you're asking.”

“But will you vote for me?” Doreen barely breathed while she waited for Leonard's reply.

Seconds stretched like minutes. What was taking him so long to answer? It wasn't a trick question.

Leonard leaned back on his chair. “I'll listen to what you both have to say, then make my decision. That's what I do for every election.”

That's his response?
He didn't say he'd vote against her, nor would he commit to supporting her. Doreen had no idea his nonanswer would hurt so much.

Dinner was over.

She stood from the table. “I appreciate your giving me the opportunity to earn your vote, although I'd think you knew me well enough to know I deserve it.”

She choked on the words. They'd been friends for decades. They'd been lovers for a year. He wanted them to be something more. But she shouldn't have to choose between being his lover and being mayor.

Leonard stood. “Would you be running for mayor if Paul were still alive?”

Doreen braced her hand on the back of her chair to keep her balance. “Is that what this is about? You're comparing our relationship to what I had with Paul?”

“I have a right to know.”

“What gives you that right?” The words ripped from her throat. Her body shook with outrage. “The fact that we're sleeping together?”

“Is that all our relationship is to you?”

“I'm through with defending myself to you.” Doreen fisted her hands.

“I just want to know where I stand in your new life. What role do
I
play?”

“I've told you how I feel. I respect your right to decide if that's enough for you. But I will not continually apologize or explain myself to you.”

Leonard nodded once. “Then I've made my decision. This semirelationship isn't enough for me. I need more.”

His words took her breath away. Maybe she should have known this would happen. Instead, Leonard had caught her off guard as he turned and walked out of her home. Out of her life?

 

 

Saturday evening, Darius's mother let him into his childhood home. He watched Ethel as she locked the front door. His mother stayed fit with aerobics classes at the university. She was well-groomed, with minimal makeup. Not a hair out of place. Her leaf green sundress complemented her smooth maple skin. Only her fuzzy bedroom slippers seemed out of place.

“Is Dad home?”

“I don't know where your father is.” Ethel didn't sound as though she cared, either.

Darius followed his mother into the great room. The space was large and tidy, well-maintained rather than cared for. The white walls were sparsely covered with flowers Ethel had dried and framed. The fireplace's maple mantel on the far wall displayed her collection of ornamental birds—glass, china, porcelain, and wood. Heavy red curtains covered the two large front windows. Was Ethel shutting the town out or closing herself in?

The room was devoid of family mementoes, no pictures commemorating his parents' wedding or anniversaries. There weren't photographs chronicling his birth or childhood. Had they ever been a real family?

Darius looked at his mother seated on the stiff red paisley sofa in front of the television. She was watching a cable network reality show.

He checked his Timex watch as he lowered himself onto the matching armchair. It wasn't yet five o'clock. “Will Dad be home for dinner?”

“I don't know. Hush.” His mother pointed the remote at the television screen and pumped up the volume.

Darius raised his voice to be heard above the program. “How long has he been gone?”

“Darius.” His mother turned toward him. Her scowl had been a familiar expression since childhood. “I'm watching my show. I don't know where your father is, and I don't care.”

“How do you feel about his petition?” Darius knew the answer before she spoke.

Ethel's expression darkened. “How do you think I feel? I don't want your father to be mayor of Trinity Falls. I don't even want him in the race.”

“Why is he running?”

Ethel returned her attention to her program. “Who knows why he does what he does?”

“When did he decide to run?”

She glared at him again. “Why are you asking me all of these questions?”

“Because I want to understand what's going on.” Darius leaned forward on his seat, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don't remember Dad ever donating to a fund-raiser, volunteering for civic events, or even signing a petition. Do you?”

“No.”

Darius met his mother's gaze across the room. “What makes someone like that wake up one day and decide to become mayor?”

“I don't know.” Confusion mixed with irritation in Ethel's black eyes. “But I don't need to understand. I just want him to stop.”

Darius stood, crossing to the front windows. He nudged apart the curtains to check the street. Where was his father?

He turned from the window. Silence stretched as he considered his next step. “We should talk with Dad when he gets home. Maybe together we can convince him to drop his petition.”

Ethel shook her head as Darius spoke. “That won't work. I'm done with talking. I tried talking to him. Simon won't listen. I told him that if he even campaigned for mayor, I'd divorce him. He still chose to start this petition.”

Darius tensed. He'd known for a long time—decades—that his parents' marriage wasn't a happy one. If the town had a yearbook, their marriage would be voted “Least Likely to Succeed.” But he still couldn't imagine them divorced. “You would divorce him? Where would you go?”

Simon's voice interrupted them from the room's entrance. “Yes, Ethel. Tell us what you would do without me.”

Ethel rose from the sofa and turned her glare on her husband of more than thirty years. “You don't believe that I would divorce you?” She looked at Darius. “You both think that I'm bluffing? Try me, then.”

Ethel dashed across the room, shoving Simon out of the way before racing up the stairs. Darius's heart broke at the sound of her sobs.

“This has gone too far, Dad.” Darius gestured after his mother. “You can see Mom's miserable.”

Simon stepped farther into the room. “Your mother's always threatening to divorce me.”