Patricia Bradley - The Christmas Campaign

“Just don’t get the mayor all wrangled up in your deal—he hasn’t been feeling that well.” She hesitated, pressing her lips together. “That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

Peter resisted checking his watch while he waited for her to continue.

“I don’t think Hugh is going to run for office when the election rolls around.”

“Oh?” He didn’t know what that had to do with him.

“In fact, I know he wouldn’t if you would agree to run.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You’d make an excellent mayor.”

Him, mayor? He’d never considered the possibility before.

“I see I’ve taken you by surprise, but I wish you would think about it. I really don’t want Hugh to run, but he will unless someone he admires steps forward.”

“You’re serious. But why me?”

“You have all the qualifications. First of all, you’re electable. Everyone knows the Elliott name. And with a master’s degree, you’re well qualified, and your work in Washington, DC, speaks for itself. And here—you’ve done an excellent job with Social Services and getting the children’s shelter set up here. And then there’s your council seat. In fact, I’m surprised you haven’t thought about it yourself.”

Now that the shock had worn off, he had to admit the job appealed to him. “I’ll think about it.”

She squeezed his arm. “Good. Now go get Hugh’s coffee. I have to get back to work.”

Peter saluted and did as he was told.

A few minutes later, he handed the mayor his coffee. “Sorry it isn’t what you ordered, but I was with Betty.”

Hugh Gordon sighed. “That woman will be the death of me. It isn’t enough that she runs this office, now she’s telling me what I can drink.”

“She’s worried about you.” Judging by his pallor, Betty had good reason to be worried. And the mayor could stand to lose a few pounds. Peter considered telling Hugh about their conversation regarding the election, but in the end, he simply said, “It’s Kona-blend.”

“That’s a plus.” Hugh took the top off and sipped the still-steaming coffee. “Now, what can I do for you?”

Peter hesitated, remembering Betty’s admonition. Better that he be prepared for tonight. “I want to start a youth recreational center in a building my grandfather owned.”

“I suppose it’s the same building your cousin wants to put a senior center in.”

Jake was going to give him a run for his money. Peter nodded. “Can I count on your vote?”

“Same thing he asked.”

“What’d you tell him?”

“At the time, I didn’t know you were going to be submitting a proposal in opposition to him, so I said yes, and I’ll give you my support, as well. But if you’re looking for funding, only one of you might receive it. Money’s tight, and there’s no guarantee either of the projects will be funded, though both do seem worthwhile.”

Peter should have realized Jake was on his way to see the mayor when he left Betty’s office. “Thanks. I’ll see you tonight.”

* * *

AT THE LAST MINUTE, Nicole had to call her mother to cover for her at the office after an expected shipment of lumber failed to arrive before noon. She paused just outside the front door of Norma Jean’s to collect herself.

If only she could lie. Really ? But she couldn’t, not to her mother, anyway, not even little white lies about the person she was having lunch with. As soon as Joyce Montgomery discovered Nicole was meeting Jake for lunch, she would be off and running, practically planning an engagement party.

Not even if South Missi— Nicole broke the thought off. That’s what got her into trouble in the first place. She’d had no intention of accepting Jake’s lunch offer, but when he used that phrase, her mouth said yes even as her brain said no.

She straightened her shoulders and pushed the door open. Might as well get it over with. Besides, he’d only asked her in order to get her help. Keep that in mind. She scanned the room and spotted him in a corner booth, talking to one of the waitresses.

Nicole walked toward the booth, dodging harried servers and catching snatches of conversation. Not even noon yet, and Norma Jean’s was booming. Yet their waitress had time to stand and talk to Jake with a dreamy look on her face.

The man was too good-looking for his own good. When he came into the office this morning, she’d almost dropped the ornament in her hand. And then all that blarney about how she looked—he was probably telling the red-haired waitress the same thing. Her cheeks flushed just thinking about it.

“Sorry, I’m late,” she said and scooted into the booth. From the frosty look the waitress gave her, Nicole had arrived too early.

He checked his watch. “You’re not really late, more like right on time.”

“Water, with lemon?” Red asked.

The waitress already thought she had Nicole pegged. “I think I’ll have iced tea with the lemon.”

“Sweet or unsweetened?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say she didn’t know Norma Jean’s served anything but sweet tea. Instead she smiled pleasantly. “Sweet.”

Red turned to Jake, and her smile stretched wide. “I’ll be right back with your coffee, hon.”

When the waitress was out of hearing range, Nicole gave him a sideways glance. “What did you tell her? That you were having lunch with the troll who lives under the bridge?”

He laughed. “There’s no use in having charm if you’re not going to spread it around.”

Jake was very good at that. His photo was often in the Jackson paper for various galas, and he never had the same woman on his arm. “Well, I’m immune, so don’t waste your breath.”

He laughed. “I can see this is going to be an interesting lunch.”

Oh. My. Goodness. He thought she was flirting with him. She wasn’t. Before she could say anything, Red brought their drinks and whipped out her pad and pencil.

“Are you ready to order?”

Jake leaned forward. “Nicole, do you know what you want?”

“I’ll take the lunch special.” It didn’t matter what it was, Norma Jean’s special was always good.

“I’ll take the same,” he said, winking at the waitress.

“Be right back with your meatloaf and English peas and baked apples.”

Nicole shook her head at his flirting, and before he could turn his charm back on her, she said, “So, exactly what do you want to discuss about tonight’s meeting?”

“No more fun and games, huh?”

“Nope.”

“But I haven’t found out what the G stands for in your name.”

“And you never will.” She should have known that was bound to come up. She gave him her most serious stare. If only her mother hadn’t named her Giselle. Even as a child she’d known the name didn’t fit her. It’d taken her father’s intervention to get everyone to call her Nicole. “The meeting tonight...”

“Oh, okay,” he grumbled. “Tonight I’m submitting a proposal to open a senior center in Cedar Grove, and I’d like you to support it.”

“That’s no problem. I’ll be glad to support that.”

He unwrapped the napkin from around the cutlery. “I also need twenty-five thousand dollars from the council.”

“That puts a different spin on it.” There was very little money in Cedar Grove’s coffers to spend on nonessential projects. She should know. She’d been going over the budget since last week. “Why do you need twenty-five thousand from the city?”

He leaned forward, his casual air gone. “Primarily, so the city will get behind the center. No money invested equals little interest.”

She saw his point. “How about you? Are you investing in it?”