by Sue Pethick
“I thought you said—”
“Hold on. What you can do is hold a referendum.”
She made a face.
“What’s the difference?”
“A referendum is just a single-vote issue and it doesn’t have to meet the same requirements as a regular election does. Plus, if it doesn’t pass, you’re not stuck with an open seat to fill. You just have to make sure that at least two-thirds of the electorate vote,” he said. “We get ballots printed, set up voting booths in a central location, and when everything is counted, we’re done.”
Melanie thought it over.
“But what if there’s more than one candidate?”
Bryce shook his head.
“Can’t do that.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Let me think about it.”
“Fine,” he said. “But at this point, it’s that or nothing.”
She checked her watch.
“Listen, we’ve still got a few minutes until dinner’s ready. Would you mind if I show you a few tricks that Shep can do? I thought it might give you some ideas for how to use him in the campaign.”
“You mean like rolling over, shaking hands?”
Melanie laughed. “Way better than that. This boy is super smart.”
She glanced at the dog lying on his bed.
“Shep,” she said. “Want to play fetch?”
The collie jumped to attention.
“Border collies get bored easily, so I give him challenges to try and keep him from developing bad habits.” She waved a hand, indicating the tooth-marked furniture. “One of the things I’ve done is teach him the names of his toys. At this point, he’s got a vocabulary of about two hundred and fifty words.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Nope. Watch this.” She turned. “Shep, fetch the blue ball.”
The collie trotted across the room to a pile of toys in the opposite corner, carefully picked out a small blue ball, and dropped it at Melanie’s feet.
“Wow,” Bryce said.
“Hold on,” she said. “Shep, fetch the yellow rabbit.”
Once again, the dog went to the pile of toys. This time, Bryce noticed how Shep carefully avoided a blue rabbit before returning with the requested item.
“Impressive.”
“Dogs don’t see colors quite as well as we do—especially reds and greens—but what he can’t find by color he generally knows by shape. And of course, everything has a name. Shep,” she said, “fetch Mickey Mouse.”
Seconds later, a plush Mickey was deposited at her feet. Bryce laughed out loud.
“That’s amazing.”
She grinned. “I know, right? I thought if we could find a way to work some of this stuff into the campaign, it would really get people excited.”
A buzzer went off in the kitchen.
“I have to go take up dinner. Why don’t you play with him till I get back?”
As Melanie disappeared into the kitchen, Bryce turned and smiled at Shep.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s try this together, shall we?”
He surveyed the mountain of toys that had colonized the other half of the living room.
“Shep, fetch the Pink Panther.”
The dog cocked his head but stayed where he was.
“The Pink Panther,” Bryce said, making sure to enunciate clearly.
Shep sat down and scratched behind an ear.
“Over there.” He pointed. “Fetch. The. Pink. Panther.”
Shep yawned and stretched out on the floor.
“Okaaaay,” Bryce said, glancing back at the pile. “How about the carrot? Do you know what a carrot is? No? What about the fire truck? Is that too hard for you?”
The collie rolled onto his side.
Bryce pursed his lips. First the growl and now this. What was going on? Shep had been standoffish at the coffee shop, too. Was he just shy around men, or was there something more going on?
Bryce took a moment to examine his surroundings, hoping to find a clue to the dog’s behavior. In addition to the large, fur-covered dog bed and the enormous pile of toys, there was a photo of Shep and Melanie at a Halloween party dressed as Romeo and Juliet, an “I love my border collie” pillow on an easy chair, a plaster cast of Shep’s front paws on the coffee table, and an oil painting over the sofa that looked like Shep’s head on the body of a man wearing a tuxedo. No wonder the dog didn’t like him, Bryce thought. Shep wasn’t just a dog; he was a baby, best pal, and boyfriend all wrapped up in one big, fluffy package.
He looked at the dog, still stretched out on the floor.
“Hey, pal,” he said quietly. “I can see you’ve got a pretty sweet deal going on, but I didn’t ask to come here. So, why don’t you do yourself a favor and get that chip off your furry little shoulder?”
Shep looked away for a moment, then slowly rolled back over and got up. He turned toward the pile, lowered his head, and trotted across the room, his gaze riveted on the toys.
“Good dog,” Bryce said. “I knew you’d see it my way.”
The Pink Panther, however, remained untouched, as did the carrot and the fire truck. Instead, Shep began to dig through the pile, throwing toys in his wake like a terrier pursuing a rat. When he found what he was after, he lifted it carefully, then trotted back and dropped it just out of reach.
Bryce looked at the toy on the floor.
“Nice try, Einstein, but that’s not what I asked for.”
It was a little man, dressed in a blue suit and a tiny red tie. Its face and hands were made of pink felt, its hair a dozen loops of brown yarn. As Bryce watched, Shep put a forepaw on the little man’s chest, took its head carefully between his teeth, and yanked. Stitches popped and felt tore as the doll’s head came off. Shep dropped it next to the decapitated body and stared at him.
“So,” Bryce said. “That’s the way it’s going to be, huh?”
“That’s the way what’s going to be?”
Man and dog looked up as Melanie came back into the room.
“Oh no!” she said. “What happened to Mr. Stuffy?”
At once, Shep threw himself on the ground, whining pitifully as he tried to nose the pieces back together.
“My poor baby.” She scooped up the mangled doll and gave the collie a hug. “Don’t worry. Mommy will fix it.”
She turned to Bryce. “What happened?”
“Beats me. One minute we were playing, and the next minute Mr. Stuffy’s head just . . . came off.”
“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter,” she said doubtfully, examining the pieces in her hand. “And at least you got a chance to see what he can do.”
“Absolutely,” Bryce said as he and the collie locked eyes. “I think I understand Shep perfectly.”
CHAPTER 6
Dinner was over and the dishes had been put away before they got back to the subject of the campaign. So far, Melanie thought, things had gone better than expected. There’d been no awkward silences, no mention of past grievances, not even any hints about trying again. In fact, the entire evening had felt more like getting together with an old school chum than an ex-husband. She should be happy, she told herself. So, why was she upset?
Maybe it was the shock of seeing how much he’d changed. It wasn’t just the clothes and the hair; Bryce seemed a lot less . . . dejected than he’d been the last time she saw him. Not that she’d expected him to pine away forever, but no woman wanted to think that a man she’d once loved had gotten over her. It made her feel prickly and resentful.
As Bryce set his plans for the campaign out on her dining room table, Melanie felt her lips tighten. He’d done all that work without even asking her, and now he was expecting her to just step aside. Did he think that because he was a big-time lawyer now he could just show up and take charge? As he closed his briefcase, her stomach began to churn.
Time to nip this in the bud.
“I don’t think having you as Shep’s campaign manager is going to work.”
&nbs
p; He looked up.
“Oh?”
She shook her head.
“You don’t really know the people around here and I’m not sure how they’ll feel about a stranger coming in and trying to run things.”
Bryce bit his upper lip, something Melanie remembered that he did when he was feeling conflicted.
Okay, here comes the “I know what’s best for you” speech.
“Yeah, I can see that.”
He patted the folder in front of him.
“So, do you want any of this? I could just leave it here.”
“Um, sure,” she said, feeling wrong-footed. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to take a look.”
Why was he being so agreeable all of a sudden? He’d seemed so eager this afternoon. Without someone to push back against, Melanie felt herself losing momentum.
“I’m not sure about making it a referendum, either,” she said. “I mean, the whole reason we decided to have an election was because Rod Blakely said it wouldn’t be fair if Shep was the only candidate. A one-question referendum seems pretty much like the same thing to me.”
“Is Blakely the guy who wants to run against Shep?”
“Yeah.”
“But I thought the whole point was to have a dog as the mayor.”
“It is, but fairness matters to people around here. They feel as if their way of life has been destroyed by rules they had no say in.”
“Of course, I get that. So, what do you want to do?”
Melanie paused. What did she want to do? The whole point of calling Bryce in the first place had been to ask his advice. Why was she so reluctant now to take it? Still, the thought of simply turning everything over to him rankled.
“Could we have two referendums on the same ballot?”
“You mean like two separate questions: ‘Make Shep the mayor?’ or ‘Make Rod the mayor?’”
“Right.”
He frowned thoughtfully.
“I should think so.”
“If we did that, then the rest would be like you said before: get ballots printed, set up voting booths, let everyone vote. We’d just have two questions for people to decide on instead of one.”
“What if Rod Blakely wins? Are you sure you want to take that chance?”
Melanie laughed.
“Don’t worry, he won’t.”
“But if he does?”
“Well, if he does, he does. But believe me, he’s not going to.”
“All right. Sounds like a plan.”
She smiled. Getting everything out in the open and settled had put her in a better frame of mind.
“Thanks for the help,” she said. “I really appreciate it.”
Without thinking, Melanie laid her hand on his arm. She’d only meant it as a friendly gesture, but the sensation was electric. Feeling his body heat, the way the hair on his forearm contrasted with the smoothness of his skin, the power of the underlying muscle, made her heart race. She realized suddenly just how long it had been since she’d touched a man—any man—and snatched her hand away.
If Bryce had noticed her discomfort, however, it didn’t show.
“No problem,” he said. “I came here to help, not tell you what to do.”
“Great. Wonderful,” she said, feeling annoyed again.
Since when is he such a cool customer?
“Can I make a suggestion, though?” he said. “Since it’s not a statewide election, why don’t you hold it on Saturday instead of Election Day? You’ll get a bigger turnout that way.”
“But that’d give us three fewer days and we don’t have much time as it is.”
“How many people live in Fossett, a thousand?”
She shrugged.
“About that.”
“Then the campaign shouldn’t take that long. You could hold the vote a week from today and have the ballots counted and certified that night. If Fossett’s in as bad shape as you say it is, then the sooner Shep gets into office the quicker your plan can do its work.”
“I hadn’t thought about that,” she said. “Let me talk to Walt and see what he says.”
“Okay. In the meantime, Ms. Campaign Manager, here’s your playbook.”
He handed her the folder containing the action plan for Shep’s campaign.
“It’s probably more than you need, under the circumstances, but it’s always good to have a blueprint before you start.”
Melanie raised a skeptical eyebrow as she lifted the cover. Was this really necessary? On the one hand, there was no way she was going to need all of this stuff. On the other hand, Bryce had gone to a lot of trouble to put the thing together. It would be rude not to at least take a look at it before he left.
As she began flipping through the pages and reading his action items, though, Melanie started to realize just how little she knew about actually running a campaign. There were sections on energizing voters, ensuring a good turnout, raising seed money, and attracting volunteers. By the time she’d reached the last page, she felt overwhelmed.
“Wow. This is impressive.”
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have Bryce stay and explain some of it to her, she thought. She only had a few days until the election, after all, and there were several action items in there that she hadn’t even considered.
“Would you mind if we went over some of this stuff before you go? This is a lot to take in.”
“Sure. We can do that.”
She handed the folder back and Bryce laid it open on the table. Melanie took a seat on the other side, relieved to be putting some distance between them.
“Okay,” he said. “The first thing you’ll need to do is make up a list of likely voters.”
“Easy,” she said. “That’d be everyone.”
“Are you sure? Remember, the referendum won’t be valid without two-thirds of the people casting a ballot. Just because someone can vote in an election, that doesn’t mean they will.”
She thought about that for a second. The fact was, Melanie had no idea what Fossett’s voter turnout had been like in the past. She’d just assumed that everyone in town would show up to support Shep.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. But short of dragging everyone to the polls, how do we make sure they do?”
“Two ways,” he said. “First, you find volunteers: people who will help get the word out about Shep’s candidacy.”
“No problem. I’ve had lots of people tell me they want to help.”
“Good, you’ll want to contact them as soon as possible. The second thing is, you have to ask for donations.”
She shook her head.
“I can’t do that. People in this town are already hurting.”
“It doesn’t have to be a lot,” he said. “Even a dollar will do. The point is, once someone donates to a candidate, they’re more likely to show up and vote for them.”
“Huh. I didn’t know that.”
“Believe me,” he said, “it works. If I were you, I’d put a star next to the names of likely voters who might contribute to Shep’s campaign. The more people you can get money from, the better his chances will be.”
“Shep’s at the coffee shop every day greeting customers. I’m sure most of them will chip in.”
Bryce grimaced and shook his head.
“I wouldn’t recommend it,” he said. “You don’t want people to start wondering if you’re trading political favors for good service.”
“Oh, please,” she scoffed. “What kind of political favors is a dog going to hand out? Besides, folks around here know me better than that.”
“Are you sure? People can get funny about politics.”
“But this isn’t politics politics; it’s just for fun.”
“Don’t fool yourself, Mel. It stopped being ‘fun’ the second you held that town meeting. I’ll bet Rod Blakely is treating this election very seriously.”
Melanie paused. Rod had been pretty agitated at the meeting. Plus, he was the one who’d brought up the whole fairness issue, and t
here were all those stories about his disparaging Shep’s candidacy, too.
“So, what do I do?”
“Don’t talk about politics at work,” Bryce said. “If your customers ask about Shep’s candidacy or how they can help, have them talk to one of your volunteers—or to me, if I’m still in town.”
She licked her lips, reviewing the bullet points on the paper in front of her. The thought of having to do all that stuff by herself was daunting.
“Is that all?”
“Nope, there’s one more thing. Shep needs to get out and ask for people’s votes. It’s called canvassing, and it’s really important.”
“How’s he going to do that? I mean, he is smart, but he doesn’t talk.”
“Talking isn’t mandatory, but walking through neighborhoods, calling on voters—even shaking hands, if he’ll do that—will help people form a positive opinion of him. At the same time, you—or whoever he’s with—need to be asking for their support.”
She sighed, realizing for the first time how much work the election would involve. How was she going to do all that and still keep the coffee shop running?
“Can we just skip the door-to-door stuff? I mean, it’s getting pretty cold outside. Couldn’t I just put an ad in the paper?”
“You could,” Bryce said. “But it won’t have the same impact. People want to feel that you’re willing to work for their vote. If they think you’re just phoning it in, they’ll be put off.”
Melanie slumped onto the table.
“This is hard.”
“It’s supposed to be. You don’t win people over by doing what’s easy. You have to be willing to do what’s hard.”
He closed the folder and pushed it across the table.
“Remember, the key to winning an election is showing voters that you don’t take them for granted. Don’t just buy ads, show up in person; don’t just talk, listen; don’t just assume they’ll come out and vote, give them a reason to. If you and Shep do that, he really will be a shoo-in.”
Bryce grinned.
“Look on the bright side: At least he’s not running for a real political office.”
Melanie looked across the room. Shep had dozed off and his legs were beginning to jerk fitfully. She wondered if he was dreaming of herding sheep.
“Why do you think Shep tore Mr. Stuffy’s head off? I mean, it’s obvious he did it on purpose. You don’t think it has anything to do with the election, do you?”
