“Out in the cold.” Bitsy cradled her tea mug with both hands.
“We should brainstorm a list of single men, I suppose,” Mims said.
A big truck drove past. Tom Bodine sat behind the wheel.
“Didn’t someone mention we match widowers?” Edith was super pleased with her idea. “What about Tom Bodine? His teenage boys could use the calming influence of a mother.”
And bonus: Tom was the wealthiest man in Sunshine. Mary Margaret could use an influx of cash.
* * *
“Ms. Sneed, don’t you like Christmas?” Elizabeth Franklin skipped alongside Mary Margaret toward the office after school.
“Who doesn’t like Christmas?” Mary Margaret attempted a jovial laugh.
“You don’t wear Christmas sweaters.” Elizabeth eyed Mary Margaret as critically as her mother had done during their Halloween party when Mary Margaret hadn’t dressed up. Elizabeth was the opposite of her cousin Louise in every way, including her tendency toward bossiness. “Ms. Birchswallow wears Christmas sweaters every day.” Linnie Birchswallow was her older brother’s sixth grade teacher.
“I haven’t dug out my holiday sweaters yet, honey.” Did she really have to this year?
“But you will?” Elizabeth’s tone mirrored her mother’s in self-importance. Her mom was one of Barbara’s close friends. “Promise?”
“I promise.” Mary Margaret answered begrudgingly, then opened the rear office door and led Elizabeth inside where Wendy, the school secretary, was decorating a small Christmas tree. “Look, there’s your mom.”
Sandy Franklin was pinning an announcement for the Parent-Teacher holiday party on the bulletin board.
Elizabeth ran around the front counter to her mother. “You don’t have to worry about Ms. Sneed’s holiday spirit, Mommy. She just has to unpack it.”
Mary Margaret feigned hearing loss and checked the papers in her box as the Franklins left.
Tom Bodine walked into the school office and directed his twin teenage boys to sit in the chairs normally reserved for sick or misbehaving elementary children. “Mrs. Sneed, I hear you’re available for tutoring.” Tom didn’t look at Mary Margaret as if she came highly recommended.
The Bodine twins slouched in the blue burlap chairs behind their father, backpacks at their big feet.
“I…Did the mayor put you up to this?” Mary Margaret stayed behind the school counter, hands folded primly on the green Formica.
Kevin wasn’t just dangerously handsome. He was meddlesome and overstepping his slim-fitting khakis. Mary Margaret was in no mood for referrals or charity, even though she’d been forced to buy two new tires because of Laurel and Hardy’s tire slashing.
“Nobody forces me to do anything.” Tom sized up Mary Margaret the way she imagined he sized up a steer for sale. He owned the largest ranch in Sunshine County. He was a hard man, from his scuffed black boots to the sharp angles of his face to his absolute determination to live his life by his rules. “Two different parties recommended you. I’ll pay five hundred dollars if my boys pass all their classes in two weeks.”
Tempting, but Derek wouldn’t approve of the odds. The Bodine boys had a reputation as slackers. And they hadn’t shown up for work the day she’d been fired by Iggy.
Still, Mary Margaret was always up for a haggle. “Two weeks left in the term for them to pass every class? Five hundred seems low.”
Tom smirked. “You’ve got a leg up. One of their classes is PE, and their basketball coach assures me they’ll pass if they show up.”
The twins stared at Mary Margaret with teenage detachment. They had no desire to pass anything but time.
Mary Margaret decided to toss them a bone, pricing herself out of the running. “My tutoring fee in this situation is two hundred per class.”
“Two hundred?” Tom sputtered, tipping his black hat back.
“Per student,” Mary Margaret clarified, ignoring the breathy, “Wowzer. That’s ballsy,” from Wendy.
Linnie Birchswallow opened the rear office door, spotted Tom’s red face, and immediately closed it again.
“Mr. Bodine, the success of tutoring requires the student to want to learn. And…” Mary Margaret encompassed his sons with a sweep of her arm. “Sometimes it’s best to let children fail. What harm would be done in the long run by making them repeat their senior year?”
The twins exchanged wide, reality-laden glances, as if they hadn’t considered the ramifications of failing.
“They’re not children,” Tom roared. “They’re Bodines! If they don’t pass their classes by year’s end, I’m taking them out of school. No sports. No dances. They’ll work for the roof over their heads, just like I did.”
If Mary Margaret hadn’t been raised by a blustering father, she might have been cowed.
“Geez, Dad,” said one identical twin, scratching his head beneath an unruly dark curl. “Tone it down.”
“Yeah, Dad,” said the other, scratching a similar itch. “This is the elementary school, not the ranch.”
“Besides,” said the first twin, “we’ll take Ms. Sneed as a tutor.”
“Yeah,” echoed his brother. “She’s cool.”
Tom made a sound like a trapped, wounded lion and stalked out. The heavy door closed behind him with a thud.
“Wait!” Mary Margaret called after him. She hadn’t wanted the job.
“It’s okay, Ms. Sneed,” said Twin One, shrugging. “We know how to get our grades up.”
“Yeah,” said Twin Two. “We just waited a little too long to start catching up this term.”
They gathered their backpacks and headed for the door.
“Boys,” Mary Margaret warned. “Come back here.”
They ignored her.
“I promised Jami I’d take her to the winter formal next month,” said Twin One.
“Boys!” Mary Margaret said, louder this time but to the same effect.
“There’s no way I’m sitting out the basketball game against Highland High,” said Twin Two.
They left the office.
“I don’t get it.” Wendy fluffed her short hair. “Are you their tutor or not?”
Tom had referenced two recommendations. Kevin and…? “I have no clue.” But what she did know was that tutoring those boys wasn’t a sure thing.
She picked up her cell phone. The date of her next payment of Derek’s online debt loomed. She was going to have to call Ned and accept the job.
A sure thing involved a mask, a wig, and the Hanky Panky.
* * *
“Thanks for making time for me today.” Cray McDonald sat down across from Kevin. He’d played center at Western Colorado University to Kevin’s quarterback, but had traded football pads for fine wool business suits. Cray had slimmed down since then but he was still a presence to be reckoned with, blocking for shot-callers. “My boss is wondering why you haven’t forced a vote on the distribution center yet.”
“Funny you should mention forcing a vote.” Kevin paged Everett to his office and then picked up one of Tad’s cars that had fallen from the ficus. The car made him think of Tad, which made him think of Mary Margaret, which made him want to smile. She thinks I’m dangerous. “I believe we’ve garnered support from all but one town councilman.”
“That’s great.” Cray rubbed his big hands together. “Vote already. We can break ground at spring thaw.”
“Not so fast.” Kevin instructed Everett to enter and close the door behind him. “The problem is with our residents. They’re resistant to change. We were wondering what you could do to sweeten the pot for the community.”
Cray frowned.
Everett sat next to Cray and placed a sheet of paper in front of him. “These are our ideas.”
“Fund the remodeling of the high school football stadium snack bar,” Cray read. “Pay for a war memorial bench at the cemetery. Sponsor a float in the Christmas parade.” His frown deepened as he tossed the paper back toward Everett, several line items still unread
. “I don’t have the budget for this.”
“Do you want to win the community over?” Kevin picked up the list.
“We’re offering jobs. Shouldn’t that be enough?” Cray sat back in his chair and gave them a disparaging look. “If you rezone the property, they’ll see the impact like that.” He snapped his big fingers. “Demolition crews. Construction workers. Staff to run operations.”
“We’re a close-knit community.” Everett took a moment to adjust his glasses, as if he wanted to see Cray more clearly. “We don’t want to be a town divided.”
Cray huffed. “You mean if people are upset, Kevin might not be re-elected, and you might get fired by the new administration.”
“It’s not beyond the realm of possibility,” Kevin allowed, unshaken. “But so is the risk that residents will organize a social media campaign against you. Is that what your boss would want? Bad press?” He handed the list back to Cray. “We aren’t suggesting you support everything on this list. But we are suggesting you make an effort to say you’re willing to become part of our community.”
“To buy our membership,” Cray grumbled.
“It’ll be worth it in the long run,” Kevin promised, hoping that was true.
Cray got to his feet. “Gentlemen, I can’t say it’s been fun…but it has been real.” He folded the list, stuffed it into his jacket pocket, and left.
Kevin and Everett listened to him walk down the stairs.
Everett stood. “What are the odds they’ll take our suggestions?”
Seventy-thirty. Against.
Kevin knew Everett didn’t want to hear the truth so he said, “Fifty-fifty.”
“I was thinking it was more like seventy-thirty.” Everett stood, looking grim. “Against, that is.”
Even his right hand man thought they were on the ropes? “We may have council votes but we don’t have popular support.”
“Given that,” Everett said matter-of-factly, “I don’t like your odds for re-election.”
Kevin didn’t like them either. Once Everett left, he called his contact at the state political party’s office and set up a time to meet.
He couldn’t wait to see how the distribution center shook out. Every career politician had to have an exit strategy.
* * *
“Ladies, this is your new choreographer and dance instructor.” Ned introduced Mary Margaret to the rest of his dancers.
The seven women lounged around the stage at the Hanky Panky. None seemed happy to see her. Mary Margaret wasn’t all that happy to be there, so she supposed they were even.
“Why do we need a dance lesson?” Crystal sported black acrylic nails nearly as long as Mary Margaret’s thumb. “You wouldn’t have hired us if we didn’t already know how to dance.”
Doubt pressed against Mary Margaret’s chest, propped up by the balance owed to the online casino.
“You see what I’m dealing with?” Ned straddled a chair and shook his fist at his dance crew. “If you want to earn better tips and keep this place open, you’ll listen to what Roxy has to say.”
“I’m in.” Didi pushed her thick glasses up her nose. “The place went wild for her on Saturday.”
“How much did you earn in tips?” Crystal was going to be a hard sell.
Mary Margaret didn’t like to talk money with anyone but she shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Around five hundred.”
The dancers gaped at her.
Validation made.
Mary Margaret knew she didn’t look like an exotic dancer. She was dressed like an FBI operative in the field. Her hair was in a low bun beneath a black knit cap. After the tutoring incident, she’d changed into black leggings, black boots, and a black turtleneck. She shrugged out of her jacket. “Ned, you should leave.”
Ned protested.
“Go.” Mary Margaret waited a beat before adding, “Or I will.” More than four years as a kindergarten teacher had helped her learn a lot about how to deal with doubters and rebels. She waited to say anything more until she heard his office door close, and then she looked at the women. “Crystal is right. You’re all good dancers. I can’t teach you how to groove any better than you already do.”
“I told you,” Crystal said but with less ire than before. The dollar figure Mary Margaret had mentioned was obviously still on her mind.
Mary Margaret went to the sound system tucked in the far corner of the stage. “But that’s not what I’m here for.” She turned on the stereo. Christmas music filled the room. She quickly punched up some classic George Michael and faced her dance team. “I’m here to put together a burlesque revue that people get excited about. I’m here to make sure we all walk out of here every night with a wad of cash. But mostly, I’m here to dance because I love it.”
Mary Margaret did a slow bend, back arching, followed by a quick spin and snap. “If you don’t love to dance…If you’re just here because you need the money…the audience knows.”
The women shifted but said nothing, watching Mary Margaret work.
Except it wasn’t work. It never had been.
Dancing was joy. Dancing was power, a way to take back that bit of herself that her father’s strict upbringing had tried to squelch. She and her mother used to dance in the kitchen while making dinner. The day they were caught, a light had gone out in her mother, one that was never rekindled.
“My grandmother and I dance in the kitchen like this.” Mary Margaret turned up the music and did a rendition of the Mom Dance.
The women laughed.
The tension inside Mary Margaret eased. Dancing always loosened up the stress, shook it off, made her feel free, moved her beyond her worries and fears. How could this be wrong?
Mary Margaret hadn’t seen Laurel and Hardy today. They made her so afraid and at the same time so angry—Beyoncé move, Beyoncé move, Beyoncé move. She tossed her knit cap aside and let her hair down, claiming the pole for a free, unfettered spin.
The lightness in her limbs. There were no cares on her shoulders. No concern about what would happen tomorrow. No questions about making rent, being fired for dancing, or what Laurel and Hardy might do if she couldn’t put together a bigger payment than last week.
The chorus swelled, and Mary Margaret shifted into burlesque dance mode, sleep walking through the moves, teasing the crowd.
In this case, her hands ran down Didi’s back before she stutter-stepped away, at one with the beat, the highs and lows, the power of the electric guitar. She knew she’d been making eye contact with the other women. She knew she had their complete and utter attention when they joined in. Not because of promises of more tips.
But because of the love and power of dance.
* * *
“Your two o’clock is here.” Yolanda poked her head in Kevin’s office. Her shoulder-length gray hair swung forward around her dangly Christmas tree earrings. “I put them in the conference room downstairs.”
Kevin looked up from his potential list of honorees for Citizen of the Year.
“Boss.” Yolanda came in and closed the door behind her. “They didn’t give me their names or their business cards but I can tell political party muckety-mucks from inconsequential muckety-mucks. Are you going to do it? Are you going to run for higher office?”
Kevin grinned. How could he not? He’d only been working toward this opportunity since he’d first declared himself a candidate for mayor. And after Barb’s infidelity, this was a shot to his ego. “I plead the fifth.”
“My lips are sealed.” She gave him a once-over. “You should have worn your best suit.”
He shook his head. “The last time I wore a suit I found out my wife was cheating on me.” He’d made a conscious decision to lay it out honestly. He was a polo and khaki kind of politician now.
“I get it.” Yolanda hugged herself happily. “I can say I knew you when.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Kevin gathered a fresh notepad and a pen.
“I’ll be able to call for tou
rs of your state office? The state house? The White House?”
“Slow down. The starter pistol hasn’t gone off.” He headed toward the door. “No races have begun.”
“But if you leave…” Yolanda stood in his way, a frown marring her middle-aged face. “Do you remember when you found insurance so our farmers market wouldn’t close?”
“Yeah.” Without insurance, the town couldn’t allow one of their local traditions to continue.
“Without it, my mother would’ve given up her honey business. She supplements her social security because you were open to Sunshine taking the lead. That wasn’t popular at the time.”
“You don’t need to remind me of the good I’ve done as mayor.” Kevin edged closer to the door.
“Don’t I? I know Barb would say it’s a popularity contest. But I don’t want you to forget that it’s making a difference in people’s lives by degrees that’s important. No matter where you serve, you have to remember that communities are like marble and those in power need to delicately chip away at that marble to keep the heart of the stone intact. Sometimes I think folks around here would prefer their marble to stay a lump of clay.”
It was a bad metaphor. He hugged her anyway. “I’d give you a raise, if I hadn’t approved a raise for you come January first.”
Yolanda still didn’t move.
“What is it?”
“It’s just that…If you run for state office, you won’t be my boss anymore.” She looked mournful. “I started here working for your dad. It’ll be eons before Tad’s ready to run the show.”
“Yolanda.” He gently gripped her shoulders. “They may not like me. My timing might be all wrong.”
“Never.” She sniffed and escaped, mumbling something about Victor Yates running for office.
Victor wasn’t the successor Kevin would’ve chosen. His was the one holdout vote on the town council Kevin had been unable to earn.
Kevin descended the stairs, thinking about who would take the reins of Sunshine after he’d left rather than mentally organizing his past accomplishments in case anyone asked.
He paused outside the conference room door to wipe his palms on his slacks. This was it. His dream. Coming true. His father should have been there, acting as his wingman. His mother should have wished him luck. And they would have, if he hadn’t wanted to do this his way.
A Very Merry Match--Includes a Bonus Novella Page 10
