Weaving the Strands

by Barbara Hinske

  We did it! M accepted job. Thnx for your help. M and town better off.

  She passed the phone to John, who did the same. He turned to her, grabbed her arm and led her into the lobby, telling her to leave the soda and popcorn behind.

  ***

  They sat on a bench along the wall of the movie theater. “This is Frank Haynes’ phone,” Maggie said quietly, turning to John. “I ran into him—literally—on the steps to Town Hall when I was leaving today. I dropped my purse and scattered my stuff everywhere. He helped me retrieve it. I must have picked up his phone by mistake.”

  She handed the cell phone to John. “Do you recognize the phone number that sent the text?” he asked.

  Maggie slowly shook her head, then stopped abruptly. “It’s a Chicago area code. And the only person I’ve told was Don Upton. I sent him an email accepting the job.”

  “Do you have his number in your contacts?”

  Maggie was already digging her phone out of her purse. She scrolled through her contacts and held her phone next to Haynes’. The numbers on the screens matched.

  “What in the world?” Maggie exclaimed.

  “This means that Upton and Haynes were in on this together. To get you to resign.”

  “But the expert witness job is legitimate,” Maggie said, shaking her head.

  “Maybe Upton’s participation in this is innocent,” John said.

  Maggie considered his statement. “I don’t think so,” she said slowly. “They never let on that they were friendly. I thought they’d only met once, briefly, at a finance committee meeting.”

  Maggie turned to John. “Come on. Upton has Frank’s cell phone number? Something’s fishy. They’ve been covering up their relationship, whatever it may be.”

  “It looks that way.”

  “I trusted Don. I’m the one who brought him in to assist us. And he’s given the town wonderful advice on our finances. I just don’t understand this,” she cried, raking her fingers through her hair.

  She dropped her head into her hands while John silently stroked her back.

  “God,” she spat, looking up at John abruptly. “I’m an idiot. I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming. I’ve played right into their hands.”

  “Don’t berate yourself, honey. Nobody would have suspected Upton of conspiring with Haynes. And you’re not sure that’s what’s going on. Those text messages aren’t enough to prove anything.”

  “What should I do, John?”

  John looked at her steadily and held her gaze. “I suspect you know what you want to do.”

  “Part of me wants to say, ‘Hell no, you don’t! You’re not getting rid of me that easily.’ But another part of me wants to just take this consulting job, so I can keep my promises to you and my kids. So we can take that trip we were going to plan tomorrow. I’m tired of disappointing everyone.”

  “We can take a trip another time. And I’m not going anywhere. I told you I’d support you when you took this job, but the minute I had my knee surgery and you weren’t there at my beck and call, I got pouty and selfish. I went back on my promise. Our breakup wasn’t all your fault, and I’m sorry I let you think so.” John took both her hands in his. “Sweetheart, whatever this is, it’s not right. We can’t let them get away with it. I won’t stand by and let that happen.”

  “It’s done,” Maggie cried. “No going back now.”

  “You didn’t really want to resign, and you know it,” John said. “I’ve been selfish, wanting more time with you. But,” he stood and pulled her to her feet, checking his watch, “we’ve got twenty minutes before Town Hall closes. Let’s go get that resignation letter.”

  “Yes,” she said with a nod after consideration. “We’ll burn it in the fireplace at midnight. I’m not going to let those bastards win.”

  ***

  Later that night, John slipped out of bed, carefully extricating his arm from under Maggie’s neck, and crept downstairs. He started a fire, opened a bottle of champagne and set two flutes on the mantel. He roused Eve and Roman; after all, they needed to be part of this historic moment. When the fire was blazing, he ascended the stairs.

  “Sweetheart,” he whispered as he gently shook her shoulders.

  Maggie rolled over and brushed the hair off her face. “Sorry; I fell asleep. Is it past midnight?”

  “Not yet. You’ve got fifteen minutes to get downstairs and ring in the New Year with me.”

  “Good,” she said, getting out of bed and putting on the robe he held for her. “I want to burn that damned resignation letter.”

  “It’s waiting by the fireplace, right where you left it.”

  Maggie took John’s hand and together they slowly descended the stairs. At the fireplace, she glanced at John and he nodded. Maggie tossed the letter over the hearth, and they watched as the flames touched—and then consumed—the paper that would have spelled a different future for them both.

  Maggie inhaled. “It’s done. Thank you for building the fire.”

  “One more thing.” John stepped to the mantel and poured them each a glass of champagne. “To the most courageous woman I know, with the biggest heart and most generous spirit.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Maggie began.

  “I do,” John insisted. “Now drink.”

  Maggie took a sip as John guided her into a wingback chair by the hearth.

  “What in the world are you doing?” she asked as John gingerly placed one knee on the floor. “You’re not supposed to be on your knees after your surgery.”

  “There’s one exception to that bit of medical advice.”

  He took both of her hands in his. “Maggie. You are the light of my life; the woman I’ve been searching for, always. You are my first thought in the morning and the last at night. I am never going to let you go. No matter what is ahead for us, I want us to meet it together. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

  Maggie slipped out of the chair to her knees, flinging her arms around his neck. “Yes. For God’s sake, yes!”

  The End

  Thank you for reading!

  If you enjoyed Weaving the Strands, I’d be grateful if you wrote a review.

  Just a few lines would be great. Reviews are the best gift an author can receive. They encourage us when they’re good, help us improve our next book when they’re not, and help other readers make informed choices when purchasing books. Reviews keep the Amazon algorithms humming and are the most helpful aide in selling books! Thank you.

  To post a review on Amazon or for Kindle:

  1. Go to the product detail page for Weaving the Strands on Amazon.com.

  2. Click “Write a customer review” in the Customer Reviews section.

  3. Write your review and click Submit.

  In gratitude,

  Barbara Hinske

  Just for You!

  Wonder what Maggie was thinking when the book ended?

  Exclusively for readers who finished the book, take a look at Maggie’s Diary Entry.

  Acknowledgements

  I am deeply grateful to my incomparable husband, Brian Willis, my wise and creative editor, Linden Gross, my irrepressible coach Mat Boggs, the remarkable design team at MonkeyCMedia, and my friends Jeffrie, Donna, Georgia, Mark, and Norma, for their unfailing support, confidence, and enthusiasm. With you in my corner, how could I fail?

  Book Club Questions

  (If your club talks about anything other than family, jobs, and household projects!)

  1. We’ve all met someone like Frank Haynes, who refuses to be the better person that he shows us—on rare occasion—he can be. Have you ever convinced someone to be his or her best self? How did you do it?

  2. Do you enjoy entertaining, as Maggie does?

  3. Do you know your neighbors and is your neighborhood a friendly place? Would you welcome more interaction with your neighbors?

  4. Did the book engage you right away or did it take a while to get into?

  5. Have you ever
ended a relationship because the other person didn’t make you a priority? Should Maggie have handled her relationship with John differently?

  6. Have you ever been assigned to work on a big project with someone you didn’t like? In the course of working with them, have you learned to like them better?

  7. Did any of the passages or dialogue strike you as insightful or ring particularly true? Have you said or felt any of those things?

  8. Have you ever spent a major holiday away from home? How did you handle it? Would you do it again?

  9. What would you like to ask the author?

  10. What would you like to see happen in the third installment of the Rosemont series?

  About the Author

  Barbara Hinske is an attorney by day, bestselling novelist by night. She inherited the writing gene from her father who wrote mysteries when he retired and told her a story every night of her childhood. She and her husband share their own Rosemont with two adorable and spoiled dogs. The old house keeps her husband busy with repair projects and her happily decorating, entertaining, cooking, and gardening. Together they have four grown children and live in Phoenix, Arizona.

  Chapter 1

  Maggie Martin snapped her laptop shut and set it on the coffee table. She’d been reviewing spreadsheets for hours. The formidable financial problems facing Westbury would still be there tomorrow. It was New Year’s Day after all, and Westbury’s hard-working mayor deserved some time off. She’d worked every day since she’d taken office last spring. She stretched and slid over on the sofa to snuggle her fiancé of almost twenty-four hours, John Allen.

  John put his arm around her and hugged her, his eyes glued to the college bowl game on television. “Only two minutes left,” he mumbled. “Then we can …”

  Maggie interrupted him. “And there’s another game right after this one. Enjoy. I know you’re reliving your glory days on the gridiron. I’m going to let the dogs out and call Susan and Mike. I have big news, you know.”

  John smiled and patted her arm.

  Maggie summoned Eve and Roman, tucked her chestnut bob into the collar of her down jacket, and wound a scarf around her neck. She picked up her cell phone and headed to the back garden. The dogs raced ahead of her as she sought protection from the icy wind under a pine tree on the lawn and tightened the scarf around her neck. She’d lived in Southern California most of her adult life, and these Midwestern winters were not easy to get used to.

  She turned to study the edifice of Rosemont. The warm tones of its stone walls and the symmetry of the mullioned windows elicited the same visceral response in her as the first time she saw it. Rosemont embodied stability, order, and security—exactly what she was looking for when she moved here to restart her life after her husband Paul’s sudden death. And not at all what she’d found. Never in a million years would she have imagined she’d be elected to public office as a write-in candidate.

  Just yesterday, she’d been prepared to hand in her resignation as mayor. The constant criticism of the local press and a vocal segment of the community were demoralizing, and a lucrative assignment offered by her once trusted colleague, Professor Lyndon Upton, seemed too good to turn down. Uncovering collusion between Upton and local town councilman Frank Haynes had changed everything. They weren’t going to get rid of her that easily. She would stand her ground and do everything in her power to restore the town’s financial footing. She’d make sure those responsible for the fraud and embezzlement that left the general fund and the town workers’ pension plan on the brink of bankruptcy were brought to justice. So much had changed in the last day. She pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket and dialed Susan’s number.

  “Hey, Mom, Happy New Year!” Susan sounded cheery, as she almost always did these days now that Aaron Scanlon had come into her life.

  “Same to you. How did you two ring in the New Year?”

  “We went to dinner at this swanky hotel that had a ten-piece orchestra, and dancing afterward, like out of an old movie—so glamorous.”

  Maggie smiled. “What did you wear?”

  “That long, slinky midnight-blue dress with the slit. Remember? We found it on clearance, and you insisted I buy it. You promised I’d have a chance to wear it. You were right, Mom.”

  “What was that again? You’re breaking up—I can’t quite hear you.”

  “You heard me, Mom. But if you want to hear it again—you were so right.”

  Maggie laughed. “The words every mother loves to hear.”

  “How about you? Did you and John do anything special?”

  “It was quite a day.”

  “Did you turn in your resignation?”

  “Turned it in and went back and tore it up.”

  Maggie heard Susan take a sharp breath.

  “So you’re not going to take the expert witness gig that Professor Upton offered you? You won’t be traveling to California all the time and coming to visit us?” Maggie could hear the disappointment in her daughter’s voice.

  “No, honey, I’m sorry. It’s a long story. I suspect Frank Haynes and Don Upton have been working together to convince me to resign.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “I saw a text message from Don on Frank’s phone—congratulating him on my resignation.”

  “How?”

  “I ran into Frank—literally—on the steps of Town Hall after I turned in my resignation yesterday. I slipped on the ice, and my purse went flying down the steps. When Frank helped me pick everything up, I grabbed his phone by mistake.”

  “When did you see the text?”

  “Later that afternoon—when John and I were sitting in a movie. The phone started beeping. I scrambled through my purse to find it, and that’s when I saw the message.”

  “Why would Councilman Haynes and Professor Upton conspire against you? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “I agree. I don’t know, but there’s something more between the two of them.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “John and I sat in the lobby of the movie theater and talked it out. The more we talked, the madder I got. One thing is certain: I am not going to let them orchestrate my resignation.”

  “What does John think about all this?”

  “He’s in total agreement. He drove me to Town Hall, so I could take back my resignation letter. We burned it in the fireplace at Rosemont.”

  Susan was silent.

  “What are you thinking, honey?”

  “You did the only thing you could do, Mom. It all sounds very fishy. I’m disappointed you won’t be here on a regular basis, but I’m behind you one hundred percent, and Mike will be as well.”

  “Thank you, honey. I’m really sorry I won’t be seeing you guys more often. Plus the money would have been nice.”

  “You’ve got enough money, Mom. Sounds like your New Year’s Eve sucked. I’m sorry.”

  “It wasn’t all bad …” Maggie paused, unsure how her daughter would take the news of her engagement. Both of her children got along famously with John, but changing status from boyfriend to husband might be another matter entirely. “John proposed. And I accepted.”

  Susan squealed. “Mom! That’s fantastic news! Mike and I were both hoping the two of you would get married. I was devastated when you broke up last year. You belong together.”

  “Thank you, honey. Your blessing means the world to us.”

  “Mike will be thrilled.” Susan drew a deep breath. “We need to get going on the wedding.”

  “We haven’t made any firm plans yet. It’ll be a small affair, here at Rosemont. I’d like to get married in the garden,” Maggie said, looking over the now empty flowerbeds. “Maybe June? We wanted to check with you and Mike to see when it would be convenient for you.”

  “I’ve got a trial that ends in April, so June is fine with me. The whole town will want to be there, with you being mayor and John a hometown boy and the local vet.”

  “That’s why we’re going to keep this re
ally quiet. We don’t want a massive affair.”

  “It would be lovely …”

  “You can have a big wedding at Rosemont or anywhere you choose. John and I don’t want that.”

  “Come on, Mom. You love to throw a party. You and Dad got married at the courthouse, and you didn’t even have a new dress. This has to be a grand affair. The back garden would be lovely, but outdoor weddings can be tricky. Why not get married inside Rosemont? The place looks like a movie set from an English period drama. A gorgeous stone manor home—it’s a perfect wedding venue. You could be in front of the fireplace in the library, or in the living room. We could all sweep down that staircase.” Susan sighed. “And you have to wear a wedding gown.”

  “Honey, I’m too old for a wedding gown, don’t you think? Won’t I look ridiculous? I was thinking of getting a really nice evening suit. Then I could wear it again.”

  Susan snorted. “Get yourself an evening suit if you want one, but you’re not getting married in it.

  “I’m logging into Pinterest right now. I’ll create boards for your dress, the food, and the flowers. What does your ring look like?”

  “He didn’t give me a ring.”

  “What? You’ve got to have a ring, Mom. You love jewelry. I’m starting a board for your ring, too.”

  Maggie laughed. “Slow down, princess. All in good time.”

  “Check my Pinterest page tonight—I’ll have gobs of pins by then.”

  “I will. And I’m grateful for your enthusiasm. You get busy with Pinterest. I’m standing outside and am frozen stiff. I need to round up the dogs and head inside.”

  “Give John a big hug from me. Love you both.”

  Maggie opened the back door, and Eve darted inside to her warm basket in the corner of the kitchen.

  “Where’s Roman?” Maggie asked as her beloved terrier mix nestled into her blanket. Maggie leaned out the back door and whistled, pausing to listen for the familiar sound of Roman’s tags jingling on his collar as he ran up the hill. The only sound was the wind rustling through the branches.