She glanced down at her notebook and hesitated before answering. Then her gaze met his. “What do you want, Martin? Do you want to run for mayor of Meadow Springs?”
He weighed his words carefully not wanting to rock the boat with Meg. In one of their conversations she’d told him she could never be a politician’s wife.
He cleared his throat. “To be honest, I’ve given the matter a lot of thought.”
She leaned toward him her eyes bright with interest. “And?”
He met her gaze. “I really would like to run.”
“I see.”
“Not that I’d have much chance of getting elected.”
“Why not?”
“You and I are newcomers to Meadow Springs. You’ve lived here two years and I’ve lived here five. Legally, five years is plenty long enough to run for mayor. But the local folks have a definite advantage.”
“Then we’ll just have to work harder, won’t we?”
Her look of determination shocked him. Was she actually encouraging him to run? And if so, why had she done a complete about-face?
“You should do more with your speech, Martin. This is the time to tell the locals about your background. And to emphasize the skills that qualify you to run. Not just to run, but to be the best mayor this town has ever had.” Her green eyes danced with excitement.
Martin felt a swell of pleasure. He had no idea Meg felt such confidence in his abilities. “While I appreciate your support, honey, you’re not an unbiased observer.”
“Maybe not. But anyone who knows you realizes you’re a creative thinker, a successful businessman, and a civic leader. What more could they want in a mayor?”
“Hey, thanks for your kind words, but experience counts. And my only political experience is serving on the Meadow Springs Town Council.”
“Wrong. You’re mayor pro tem. That means the council chose you as next in line. You’ve already won their confidence; all you have to do is help them see you in the position of mayor.”
“And how do you suggest I do that?”
“Your speech is the perfect place to start. Point out your skills, add some personal stories, and help the voters realize you’re fully qualified for the job.”
Meg pulled the notebook closer. “Now let’s talk about specific skills or leadership positions that will help you qualify.”
And talk they did. Meg practically interrogated him as they listed the committees he’d served on and the offices he’d held. The woman amazed him. If the ballet school ever closed, she wouldn’t have to worry about employment. She could become an investigative reporter or a prosecuting attorney!
When they finished two hours later, Martin figured he could run for president with the speech they’d pulled together. He yawned. “Let’s leave your notes for Rena. She can type them in the morning.”
“Oh, let me do it, Martin.”
“Really? I thought you hated computers.”
She paused a moment then said, “I used to but I’m changing my attitude. After all, we live in the computer age. So why fight progress?”
“You really want to type up the notes?”
“Yep, I do. Right now.”
“Shall I turn Rena’s computer on for you?”
The question came too late. Meg had already flipped the switch, and Rena’s computer sprang to life. Martin wondered if he’d need to show Meg how to open a Word document but she had one open and was typing before he could ask the question. And she was a fast typist, another skill he hadn’t expected.
As she worked, he made some phone calls to schedule a meeting to discuss the location of a new strip mall. And when he finished, Meg was still hard at work. She’d need more caffeine before long. Since she was so engrossed in the project, he slipped out the front door and headed for Felicia’s.
As he walked toward the café, his thoughts raced full speed ahead. Everything in his life was changing. His business was booming, his responsibilities as mayor pro tem had increased tenfold, and Meg was a surprise a minute. She was a huge help with writing his speech, and her approach was very organized. Normally, she attacked projects with more creativity. But her approach was working, and he never argued with success.
He reached the café and went inside. “Back already?” Felicia asked. “What can I get for you?”
“I’ll have a limeade and some serious caffeine for Meg. She’s helping in my office today.”
Felicia arched an eyebrow. “Meg’s working in an office? She always says office work confines the spirit and stifles creativity.”
“And that dancing frees them both.” Martin chuckled. “I’ve heard that little speech myself.”
Felicia shook her head. “That girlfriend of yours marches to a different drummer. Or should I say dances to a different tune?”
“Hey, I won’t argue. Meg and I are polar opposites, but as they say, opposites attract.”
“Good thing, huh? I’ll get those drinks for you, Mr. Mayor.”
The title brought Martin up short. “I’m not the mayor, Felicia, just a stand-in for Sam. I’ll help out until he gets back.”
She shook her head and sighed. “The whole town’s sick about Sam’s accident. Several council members don’t think he can return to office. So you’ll probably finish Sam’s term and be elected mayor yourself come next April.”
“Whoa, Felicia. I’m counting on Sam making a full recovery.”
“We all hope and pray he does. But you’ve got to plan ahead, Martin. And be realistic.”
“It would be tough to win an election since I haven’t lived in Meadow Springs very long.” He’d said the same words to Meg earlier this afternoon.
“Boy, I hear you. If your family didn’t come here in the 1800’s, you’re the new kid in town.” She leaned closer. “I hear lots of chit-chat in the cafe,” she said, speaking more quietly. “Folks want to know more about your background. Maybe you should educate them in case you decide to run.”
“Meg suggested that, too. And I plan to start at the town meeting.”
Felicia reached across the counter and squeezed his hand. “Good move, Martin. You’ve sure got my vote. Now let me grab that caffeine for Meg before she unravels.”
“Thanks. She’s typing my speech right now.”
She slanted him a sideways gaze. “Are we talking about Meg O’Malley? Did you look real close to make sure it was her?”
He chuckled. “I know. It’s hard to believe.”
Moments later, Felicia brought the drinks and when Martin returned to the office, Meg typed away at lightning speed. Had she taken a computer class without telling him?
“Break time,” he said, placing their drinks on the desk.
Meg glanced up from her work and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked as if she’d forgotten he existed. “I brought you a super-sized Coke, sweetie. No doubt you’ve burned up the caffeine in that latte by now.”
She glanced at the beverage, and her eyes widened. “You brought all that soda just for me?”
“I did.”
“Oh, um, thank you, Martin. That’s very thoughtful.” But she eyed the large drink as if it were laced with cyanide. Then she looked at his drink. “What are you having?”
“A fresh squeezed limeade, Felicia’s specialty.”
“Mmm. Sounds delicious.”
Meg sipped her Coke, blinked twice, and frowned. She normally gulped down the icy beverage and sighed with pleasure. Was he working her too hard? After all, she was supposed to be on vacation. “Why don’t we call it a day?” he suggested.
“Okay, sure. Just let me save my document.” Then she turned to him and flashed a dazzling smile that lit his heart. “This is fun. And if you need more help with the speech, just holler.”
“You’re willing to help me again? Here in the office?”
“Of course. While I need a break from the dance studio, I want to keep busy.”
“Preparing for a town meeting is a poor substitute for a vacation.”
; “Hey, I don’t mind. Honestly, I don’t.”
Fire practically sparked from her green eyes, and her cheeks flushed with excitement. Just looking at the woman made Martin’s heart lurch. “Gosh, you’re beautiful,” he said. “I’m the luckiest guy on the planet.”
The fire in her eyes dimmed considerably. “Please don’t say that.”
“But it’s true, honey, it’s true. Listen, I’ve got a meeting tonight, but it’s over early. Why don’t we meet for banana splits later?”
Meg bit her lip and frowned. Before she had a chance to refuse, he rushed on. “You’ve worked hard all afternoon. Let me pay you off with a rich dessert.”
Her lips formed a pout, which moved the memory of kissing her front and center. He couldn’t forget the kisses they’d shared at the cottage earlier. He kept playing and replaying them in his thoughts.
“I don’t remember the last time I ate a banana split,” she said.
“Now I’m hurt. Your last banana split was on Valentine’s Day right after the sweetheart dance.” He flashed a teasing glance. “Or have you had one since then with some other guy?”
A flush crept up her neck. “Nope, that was definitely my last banana split. The one I had with you after the sweetheart dance.”
“So will you meet me at Scoops Galore around eight?”
She shot him a confused glance—one of several he’d seen today. Was Meg having trouble making decisions or what? Finally, she nodded. “I’ll be there.”
He felt a jolt of pleasure, knowing he’d see her again today. “Great. We’ll just relax and talk.”
“And consume another nine hundred calories.”
“Since when do you count calories? With all the dancing you do, you burn them up fast. And I happen to know you love banana splits.”
“There’s a limit. But I suppose one more won’t hurt.”
Martin couldn’t keep his hands off Meg a moment longer. While he’d enjoyed working with her, he’d struggled to fully focus on the speech. He pulled her gently to her feet and drew her into his arms.
She felt like heaven as he held her close. And when he leaned in to kiss her, the scent of gardenias swirled around him. Her lips were warm, and soft, and far too appealing.
For just a moment, she stiffened in his arms. But as he deepened the kiss, she relaxed against him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and returned his kiss with interest!
No doubt about it! He was the luckiest man on the planet!
* * *
“Oh, Lancelot, I’m in so much trouble,” Liza told the pooch as she opened a can of gourmet dog food. “Martin kissed me today! Several times, in fact!” The memory of his earthshaking kisses both thrilled and horrified Liza. And she wasn’t sure which emotion took top priority.
Lancelot cocked his head, and his eyes filled with concern.
“And that’s not the worst of it,” she moaned. “I kissed him back.”
Lancelot barked once, with obvious disapproval.
Liza groaned at her total lack of self-discipline. Even though she’d trapped herself in an impossible situation, she wasn’t supposed to enjoy it. And becoming Meg for a while did not include kissing Meg’s boyfriend! What would her sister think if she knew? A wave of guilt washed over Liza at that disturbing thought.
“I know I should have stopped him, but what could I do? Martin thinks I’m Meg, and Meg would have kissed him back, right?”
Lancelot barked twice -- louder than before.
“Just look at my hands. They’re shaking. My hands never shake, not even in the courtroom. But Martin plied me with so much caffeine I can’t walk or even think straight. Meg craves caffeine but I can barely tolerate the stuff.”
Lancelot continued to stare up at her. His tail, which normally wagged furiously, didn’t move a smidgeon. The pup must have sensed her anxiety.
“And there’s more,” she added. “At eight o’clock tonight, I’m meeting Martin at Scoops Galore for banana splits. And I don’t even know where the place is.”
Lancelot, who’d heard more than he cared to, yipped impatiently. No doubt, he’d rather be eating dinner than listening to her tale of woe. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Here you are.” She placed the dish in front of the adorable dust mop and patted his head. Lancelot turned his attention to downing his meal as fast as possible.
Because Liza couldn’t stand wearing this shimmery blouse one more second, she headed for Meg’s closet to study its contents. Ouch! Every single top and dress was either a floral print, a glitzy fabric, or had beads or bangles hanging from it. Even her sister’s jeans were multi-colored.
Toward the back of the closet she spotted a pair of chocolate-brown slacks with light-pink stripes. They were probably at the back because they were too tame for Meg’s taste. Liza pulled them out and examined them closely. At least they weren’t fluorescent green and sprinkled with flowers.
She went to the dresser and pulled out a cream-colored woven top she’d brought along. After she dressed she checked her image in the mirror and chuckled. At least she was half herself tonight -- the top half. But she added some serious bangle earrings so Martin wouldn’t be suspicious.
She checked the phone book, and since Scoops Galore was close to Felicia’s, she decided to walk.
“I’m off, Lancelot. See you later, little man.” The pup, whose tummy was full, snoozed on the couch. He opened his eyes, wagged his tail then drifted off again.
Liza had no more than stepped onto the front porch when Meg’s neighbor, Mrs. Vogel, called to her. “Oh, Meg? Would you like some homemade banana bread?”
“That’s awfully nice of you,” she said, not wanting to offend the woman.
“You wait there, honey. I’ll bring a loaf right over.”
Moments later, Mrs. Vogel came bearing banana bread, and the aroma was heavenly. “Did you just take this out of the oven? It’s still warm.”
“I did. It tastes the best when it’s fresh.”
“You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.”
“Tut, tut. I love to bake, and I can’t eat it all myself.”
The seventy-something woman didn’t look like she ever ate at all. She was rail-thin with a lithe body. She wore a light-pink sweat suit and had cut her silvery-gray hair in a becoming style.
“I really appreciate all your hard work,” Liza said.
Mrs. Vogel smiled. “I like to keep busy. Where are you off to this late?”
“‘Just going for a walk. The weather’s lovely.”
“Isn’t it? I’m sorry your trip to Liza’s didn’t work out. I know you were looking forward to being with your sister.”
“We’ll reschedule another visit soon. Thanks again for the banana bread. I’ll enjoy a piece later.”
“I bake it because it’s your favorite,” she said beaming. “Go take your walk, honey, while it’s still light. Bye, now.” She turned and headed for the cottage next door.
Liza glanced at the fresh loaf she held in her hands. Banana splits, banana bread? What was Meg anyway -- a banana addict? Normally, Liza counted carbohydrates with great care. But that proved impossible since she’d become Meg.
Still, she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had baked something just for her. Probably their mom when she and Meg were still in high school. And it felt lovely.
You don’t get it, do you? her conscience scoffed. The bread isn’t for you; it’s for your sister.
Liza sighed. There were moments when she actually thought she was Meg. Hopefully she’d be as convincing to the people of Meadow Springs as she was to herself.
She took the bread inside and placed it on the kitchen table. Then she left the cottage, locking the door behind her. She felt a spring in her step as she set out for the town square. She’d have some quiet time to ponder her predicament and, maybe, figure a way out of it.
As Liza walked along the tree-lined streets, she saw children playing outdoors as they had earlier. She approached one house where two little girls were turning
cartwheels in the front yard. Liza smiled as memories flooded back. She and Meg had spent hours turning cartwheels when they were kids.
“Oh, hi, Miss Meg,” one of the girls cried.
Liza’s stomach knotted when she saw Madeline—alias Raggedy Ann. She’d hoped for a peaceful stroll with time to gather her thoughts. But as long as she pretended to be Meg, peace wasn’t an option.
The girls rushed over to her. “This is my friend, Carly,” Madeline said. “She wants to take ballet lessons, too. Can she join our class, Miss Meg?”
“Well, um, we’ll see about that. Maybe Carly and her mom can drop by the studio and we’ll discuss it.”
“Can she come and watch us practice? Then she’ll get the idea of what we do.”
“Um, sure. Why not?”
“Oh, goodie. Where are you going, Miss Meg?”
“To get some ice cream.”
“I’ll bet you’re meeting Mr. Landsburg.” She turned to Carly. “Mr. Landsburg is Miss Meg’s boyfriend.” Both girls giggled as if having a boyfriend was the funniest thing imaginable.
Liza smiled. “I am meeting Mr. Landsburg.”
Madeline’s comment caused Liza’s stomach to clench even tighter and major guilt to kick in. After all, she wasn’t meeting her boyfriend; she was meeting Meg’s. The nightmare of the situation she’d created hit with renewed force.
“Are you and Mr. Landsburg going to get married?” Madeline quizzed. Carly leaned forward to hear the answer to that question.
Liza suddenly felt dizzy. She wished with all her heart that she could board the next plane home and end this charade. “We haven’t decided for sure. Now I’ve got to run, or I’ll be late. It’s nice to meet you, Carly.”
“‘Nice to meet you, Miss Meg.” The girls turned and scurried off.
The rest of Liza’s walk was an agonizing trek. How had she gotten herself into such a dilemma? And how could she get out?
When she arrived at Scoops Galore, Martin waited for her at one of the small round tables.
“Hi, honey,” he said, and she wished her pulse didn’t pick up speed each time she heard his voice. And that she didn’t feel infinite pleasure just looking at him.
She forced a smile. “Hello, Martin. How was your meeting?”
Bride by Chance Page 4
