Silver Mayor: The Silver Foxes of Blue Ridge
Page 10
“I’d like to go home,” she says, looking up at her grandmother. Rosa looks at me again and then back at her grandchild. “Okay.”
Glancing at me one more time, Rosa asks, “If I’m done for this evening…?” A question lingers, and I’m reminded of what Janessa said. My parents work for you. I work for you.
Rosa and Henri are trusted and loyal…servants. I swallow the bitterness in my throat. It’s not like that, I tell myself. I need them. They’re practically family. They’ve never complained. I pay them well. I’ve allowed them time off and include health benefits. Still, I suddenly feel guilty about their employment with me.
“Thank you, Rosa. That’s all today.”
Vega steps up to her grandmother, who slips an arm over her shoulder and leads her through the kitchen to the back hall where there’s an exit. Where a path outside leads around the pool, along the tennis courts I converted to a batting cage and to the coach house. Where Vega and Janessa are living.
Everything feels wrong inside me, and I turn to Lucy once I hear the back door click shut. Lucy’s pained face breaks my heart, but this is a teachable moment.
“Pint, when someone tells you something in confidence, you shouldn’t share it unless that person is in danger of harming herself or others.” I pause, inhaling a deep breath. “Do you think Vega and her mother are in danger?” Why all the mystery around Richard Swank?
“I don’t know,” Lucy says. “She told me once before that her dad was famous, but she had to keep it a secret. I thought she might be making it up to sound…better than me.” Lucy shrugs. “Then today on the radio in the car she heard the announcer talking about Richard Swank, and she turned to me and whispered, ‘That’s my dad.’” Lucy lowers her voice to imitate her friend.
“Did she say why she needed to keep it a secret?” I hate that I’m prying through a child, but my heart gallops. I’m growing concerned the reason is bigger than just being secretive.
“She just said her mom didn’t want anyone to know.” Lucy shrugs, and I’m skeptical it’s that simple. Not that I think Janessa would namedrop or hope to get ahead by being the ballplayer’s ex-wife. If anything, her reluctance to talk about him ratchets up my fearful suspicions.
“Huh,” I say. “I’m going to shower quick and change.” I glance at the clock over the stove. “Give me fifteen minutes, and we can watch something together.”
“What a Girl Wants?” Lucy beams at me as she asks. She loves this 90s movie about a girl who learns her dad is a famous Englishman in Parliament. In some ways, I worry she reverses the roles in her head, wishing the fictional political father was her real-life mother. At the end of the movie, the man gives everything up for his daughter and her mother, the woman who got away. It’s rubbish, to use a British term, but I watch it to humor Lucy.
After a quick shower and a change into casual clothes of sweatpants and a T-shirt, I sit next to my daughter on the couch, who leans her head on my shoulder. Slipping my arm over her, I tug her to my chest as we start the movie we’ve watched a million times. My fingers twitch for my phone, eager to research Richard Swank for any clues to his ex-wife’s reasons for secrets.
Maybe it’s none of your damn business, my subconscious warns.
Maybe she’s in trouble, my head states.
Maybe I’m not really ready to let her go like I told her earlier tonight.
One last time and then we stop.
However, I can’t stop. I can’t shut off the way my body craves her or the way my heart bleeds into the mix. It’s more than a pull to fuck her. It’s a desire to know more about her, get closer to her, and have her in my life. I understand all her reasons to hold back. Her parents. Her job. Maybe her ex-husband.
But I don’t want to accept any of those excuses.
I want to know what’s going on with her.
As Lucy grows heavier on my chest, I cautiously lean forward and pick up my phone resting on the ottoman. Lucy shifts but doesn’t wake, and I’m reminded of her as an infant, curled up and sleeping in the crook of my arm or flat against my belly. Her little body melting into the warmth of me, knowing I’d never let anything happen to her.
That instinct to protect is ingrained in me.
I click on my phone, feeling no guilt now that Lucy sleeps against me. With one hand, I type in Richard Swank’s name. The first bits of information announce his mid-season trade to Atlanta, citing a need to be closer to his family. As I continue scrolling, I see picture after picture of him with his former wife, and I wonder if I’m misinformed. Are they really divorced? As I dig deeper, I find other images. Him with a blonde. Him with a blue-eyed beauty. Him with glassy eyes, his lips on the temple of a redhead.
Son of a bitch.
I make a mental note to research further tomorrow. Marriage license. Divorce records. I’m exerting power I shouldn’t use to my advantage, but I need to know. Clicking off my phone, I toss it back to the ottoman.
Janessa has cause to divorce him. I’m not a fan of cheaters, especially as it happened to me. But why the secrecy? What exactly is she hiding?
14
Walking Away
[Charlie]
“Take a walk with me,” I command when I finally see Janessa on Monday. Lucy sulked all weekend as Vega wouldn’t speak to her, and I didn’t want to pry into their family time on the weekend. Still, the temptation to race around my property and bang on the coach house door was real.
She’s so close yet so distant.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Janessa says, glancing up at me from her office on the second floor of the old building. She’s wearing glasses again today with her hair pulled to the base of her neck, and I want to fulfill dirty secretary fantasies with her wearing nothing more than those lenses. Of course, I don’t have that fantasy about my real-life assistant. Charity just doesn’t provoke this desire in me.
“I want to discuss this walkability thing you mentioned last week.”
Janessa shifts from behind her desk, and I see she has on heels. Fuck me.
“I can’t walk in these,” she says, and I sigh. I won’t let her avoid me. I need to speak with her, and I want to do it where it’s perceived as nothing more than the mayor speaking with a community employee.
“This is business,” I assure her although ulterior motives knock at my chest. Yep. I want alone time with her where I can’t ravish her, and she might speak to me. Walking across town seems safe enough.
“Fine,” she huffs. “I have some flats in my car that I use when I drive.” Makes sense, I guess, so I follow her out to the street parking where her father’s truck is the vehicle she references.
“Don’t you have your own car?”
“My father lets me use his truck. Says it’s better for the mountain roads.” Her lips twist. She’s lying, and I realize my question is personal.
Not going to pry, I tell myself. Just going to nudge.
Still, it’s strange to consider, if her former husband is a famous baseball player, why doesn’t she have her own car, her own place, or anything of value? My thoughts return to my bedroom when I caught her with my grandmother’s ring on her finger. Was she trying to steal it after all?
Janessa slips on her flatter shoes, and I hold out a hand, expressing I follow her lead. Blue Ridge has a Main Street with three blocks of business—First, Second, and Third Streets. Original, I realize, but I didn’t name them. The municipal offices, like the mayor’s building, the courthouse, and the fire and police departments, are opposite First, which leads south and out of Blue Ridge. The church property Janessa mentioned is on the other side of Third, almost to Scenic Road, so that’s the direction we head.
At first, we don’t talk to one another. I wave at people from the community and pause to introduce Janessa as a new employee. I point at Wine&Dine and suggest a coffee from the diner, but Janessa shakes her head, declining my offer.
We walk onward.
We pass Pearl’s, BookEnds, and the Pub.
“Once upon a time, people took scenic train rides up the mountain. It was a destination, I suppose, and one not easily reached. Dolores McIntyre and her husband, Seamus, owned a farm up here, and Dolores thought a coffee shop would be a nice resting spot for visitors. She sold fried chicken and egg salad sandwiches from her poultry farm to go with the coffee, and eventually, the diner was born. More businesses popped up, and Blue Ridge become a place to visit.” I pause, scratching at the back of my neck. “The community has had its ups and downs, one of which was the desire of a former mayor to increase the population. He wanted subdivisions and cookie-cutter homes, thinking he’d build his own little kingdom up here.” I snort, recalling all I know of Kip Chance, Dolores Chance’s father. She’s the second Dolores in the McIntyre line and runs the diner of her namesake. “Anyway, when I became mayor a dozen years ago, I knew our town needed something other than population growth to sustain it. We needed to offer what people want in the mountains, respite and peace.”
My eyes lower to the side of her face as her eyes squint, and she glances at the train.
“My plan has been to please the people but encourage tourism. It’s a double-edged sword some days.”
Janessa nods and turns to face me. “Keeping the locals happy while finding ways to attract visitors does seem daunting.”
We continue walking.
“It’s one reason I think a walking trail would be beneficial. It satisfies both locals and visitors, making it easy for each party to get around town and wander out of it to explore the great outdoors nearby.”
“Wyatt would argue that’s what the National Forest Preservation system is for,” I joke.
“Wyatt is from the good old boys’ club. What you need is a bridge between the two. I’ll show you when we near the church.”
I’m pleased she understands our destination, and we fall silent a few minutes more until we pass Hetty’s Flower Shop marking the end of downtown proper and then walk along the gravel edge of the road a bit.
“I see what you mean,” I mutter, taking in the lack of a sidewalk. “A bike trail would be beneficial here.” People can walk or ride on a trail, and the mix of gravel and patchy grass isn’t necessarily safe.
“I think you should have a train park here as well. Celebrate the train history,” she adds, walking in front of me as the current path is narrow. My eyes focus on the curve of her ass under a flowy dress.
I want to touch her again. Instead, I slip my hands inside the pockets of my pants.
“You have a lot of ideas for someone with no experience,” I state. Researching her a bit after plunging down the rabbit hole of Richard Swank, I learned Janessa had a short history in sports marketing for a Major League Baseball team. She graduated college back in the day when sports marketing wasn’t a thing, so she has a business degree in marketing with exercise science as a minor. What I want to know is why the girl from Texas who earned a full-ride scholarship and graduated top in her class gave up a career after only a decade?
“I’m pretty certain I must have been the only person to apply for the job,” she jests. “It still feels like a dream that I got it.” A smile fills her voice although I can’t see her face, and I want to spin her, kiss her, and assure her she’s qualified for the position. I want to feel her smile against my lips.
“I don’t know if you were the only one who applied, but you were certainly the best candidate.”
She stops walking and turns to face me. “Was I really?”
“Of course,” I say, brows pinching.
“And it wasn’t because we…you know…against the fence in your batting cage?”
“What? No, of course not.” Is that what she thinks? “I didn’t have any say in your hiring. It just happened.”
Her hip juts out, and she rests her fists on them. “Well, that’s reassuring.”
“Did you honestly think you got the job because we…?” I let my voice trail as she hadn’t labeled it either.
“I wasn’t certain, and I figured it was one reason you kept coming for me.”
“Kept. Coming. For you?” Each word is a question. “I’m…attracted to you, not fucking you because you owe me.”
“Again, strangely reassuring,” she mutters, repeating herself. She then turns to walk away, but I’m not having this. Reaching for her upper arm, I curl my fingers around her and stop her from taking another step.
“Look,” I begin, falling under her spell when those green eyes latch onto mine. The emerald color sparkles under the bright sunlight of the morning. “I’m not just fucking you, okay? I’ll admit I’m a little out of control around you and definitely out of my element. Goody Two-shoes Charlie,” I mock myself. “But I like being with you. You…you make me feel alive.”
Her breath catches, and then she bites the corner of her lip.
“Please don’t do that,” I groan, closing my eyes.
“Why not?” she whispers.
“Because I’m trying to be good even though I want so badly to kiss you.” The truth pours out of me as we stand on the side of the road. I slowly open my lids, peering down at her upturned face, those eyes sparkling like they do when I slip inside her. Fuck.
When I release her arm, the crackle between us lingers on my fingers. I step back and wave a hand for her to continue. After only a few more steps, we can walk side by side again and thank goodness because watching the sway of her hips has me hard.
As we near the church parking lot, I ask her to explain her vision to me again, and I watch her become animated in describing what she sees. She holds up her hands like it’s a camera shot, and she’s framing the images. A restored church but now a community center. Basketball courts and maybe a baseball diamond. A train park playground. And the walking slash bike path leading up to it and flowing beyond it to the forest.
“That’s certainly a lot,” I say, blowing out a breath. “I like your ideas, but there will be some resistance. We already have basketball courts and baseball diamonds near the schools.”
She nods, accepting what I’m saying.
We walk closer to the church, but we can’t enter. It’s locked. “I can call the realtor if we want to see inside. I’ve already looked through the place, though. The raised chancel could be a stage for concerts. Removing the pews makes it more of an open hall for markets and other activities. Maybe a community dance or something.”
She shrugs, and I smile. She has a vision.
“Why do you want to work here?” I ask, hoping it’s not too personal.
“I just want to be a part of something,” she says, crossing her arms and looking around the overgrown grass area and the in-need-of-repair parking lot.
“I understand the feeling. I wanted to be mayor to give back to a place I considered special to me. This is my home, but what is it to you?” Nudge-nudge.
“I’d like it to be my home, too,” she says, lowering her voice.
“Are you in danger?” I ask, keeping my voice cool. Her head swings, and her eyes blink at me. “Tell me the truth. Give me something.”
“I’m not in danger, and I’m not on the run either, if that’s your next question. I just want to disappear.”
“Tell me who Richard Swank is to you?” I ask, giving her one more chance to open up to me. When she doesn’t answer after a silent minute, I speak for her. “He was your husband and is Vega’s father. You’re divorced, and he’s moving to Atlanta.”
Her eyes narrow. “Snooping much?”
“Lucy told me.” I hold her eyes, and her shoulders fall.
“Vega mentioned she said something to Lucy.” Janessa shakes her head, lowering her face once again toward the ground. My fingers lift her chin.
“Let me in,” I whisper. “Let me help you.”
“I don’t need help. I needed to get away from him.”
“Why?”
&nbs
p; Her brow pinches. “If you looked me up, I’m sure you’ve seen the pictures.” Ah, yes, pictures tell a thousand tales.
“My wife cheated on me, remember? It was public, and I was just blind.”
“Well, my eyes were wide open, but I wouldn’t do anything to lose my child. I wasn’t worried about my reputation,” she snarks, implying my Goodie Two-shoes nomenclature.
“Her affair hurt and broke the heart of my child.” My voice roughens as I release her chin, but her hand reaches out for my chest.
“I’m sorry, Charlie. That was unfair of me. And I’m sorry that happened to you.” Her voice softens.
“Is he why you won’t open up to me? What did he do to you?”
She sighs, looking down at her feet. “Vega walked into our house and saw a woman sucking him off. Another woman,” she emphasizes.
“Bastard,” I hiss.
“He is, but my hesitation with us isn’t about him, Charlie,” she groans. “This is a lose-lose situation. I’m new to town and work in your office. What will people think? Not to mention, I live in your coach house, and my parents are longtime employees of yours.”
“That’s all about me, and I don’t care. What about you? What do you lose?” Me. Say me. Say you don’t want to lose me.
“I left a volatile, hostile marriage, and I’ve no interest in going from one man’s bed to another.”
“Then what the fuck have we been doing?” I snap, swiping a hand through my hair.
“We’re attracted to each other. I can’t explain it, but I can’t have it become a thing.”
“Are you still in love with him? Do you still want him?”
“Absolutely not!” she shrieks. “I want a man who respects me and who values my ideas and suggestions. Sees I have a brain and not just a body.”
“Do you think I don’t respect you?” I gasp. I took her up against a fence, over my desk, in a bathroom, and on a chair in the Pub, but it’s not like I disrespect her.