Life of the Party

by Kris Fletcher

  “Which was?”

  “To help people.” He laughed. “I know. Corny, but true.”

  “You are such a Boy Scout.”

  The kiss she applied to his nose told him that she didn’t have any problems with that.

  “I wasn’t going to help anyone except the partners by staying where I was. I sat down and figured out what I had to do, and then I spent the next night talking to Meredith about it.”

  “I assume Meredith was the fiancée.”

  “Right.”

  “You didn’t think that she should have been part of those initial plans?”

  “I had to figure it out for myself before I could talk to her. None of it was carved in stone except the part about changing jobs. The rest was open to negotiation.”

  “I take it she didn’t see things the same way.”

  “There was a strong difference of opinion as to what I should be doing with my life.”

  “Is that lawyer-speak for you had a huge fight and she threw the ring in your face?”

  “I means, she was fine with helping people as long as it meant staying in New York. City, not state.”

  “That’s a pretty far cry from mayor of Calypso Falls, Sparky.”

  “Tell me about it.” Frankly, he couldn’t have been happier about that. “She suggested working with some philanthropic organizations, something like that, and I did look into them. Most of them were doing some excellent work and I definitely could have made a difference working with them. But as I went on the interviews and did my research, it became clearer and clearer to me that I needed something different. More hands-on.”

  “Allow me to say that I am a huge fan of the hands-on part.”

  Damn, this woman was good for his ego. “Stop interrupting. I’ll never get back to the office.”

  She clamped that alluring mouth closed, but the way she curled against him, her hand tightening at his waist, told him that she would be totally fine with him sticking around for a bit longer.

  If only he had more time

  “Anyway, there I was, hunting for something that felt right for me in the city, starting to get the eye at work because I wasn’t putting in my usual sixty-plus hours each week, and then my grandmother died. I came home for the funeral. The plan was to come down, stay a day or two, and then go back. But I got here, and it was like . . . I don’t know. Like I was seeing everything with new eyes. I saw people I’d grown up with who were buying houses and getting married and having kids, and they all seemed . . . I don’t know. Exhausted and busy, yeah, but in a different way. Like they were okay with it because they knew they were doing it for a good reason.”

  “Like they had a purpose?”

  “Exactly. Then my mom asked me to stay a couple of days longer to help her go through Grandma’s house, and I got in there and remembered that way back when I was a kid, my grandfather had set up the front part as his office—he was a lawyer, too—and I walked through and thought, damn. This would make a great legal office. And from there, everything fell into place.”

  “Except Meredith.”

  “Yeah. She tried. She did. I hoped that if we were here, where things would be a little slower-paced . . . But in the end, it turned out that she couldn’t see herself being happy here, even with me. And I couldn’t see myself being happy there, even with her.”

  “Well that sucks. But trust me, it’s better to end an engagement than to go through a divorce.”

  “It did suck.” But probably not as much as it should have. “As it turned out, she ended up meeting someone else pretty fast and got married within a year, so for her, it definitely worked out okay.”

  “I’m glad.”

  He laughed. “You were worried about a woman you never met?”

  “Only in the theoretical sense. But if she hadn’t ended up in a better place, you wouldn’t have been able to really move on. So I’m glad she’s happy for your sake.”

  Well, hell. He had never really thought about it that way, but as her words sank in, they felt so right that he knew she’d hit on the truth. Come to think of it, he hadn’t even started dating again until he heard that Meredith was engaged. He hadn’t made any connection—after all, moving and starting a new practice and renovating the house had taken a huge chunk of time—but now that Jenna mentioned it, he was pretty sure there had been something else at play there.

  “How did you get to be so smart about that stuff?” he asked.

  He felt, rather than saw, her smile against his chest. “Years of experience.”

  Most of it hard-won, he was pretty sure.

  He lifted his head to check the time, groaned, and kissed her forehead. “I really need to get back.”

  “I know. Kyrie will be home soon anyway. But better something than nothing, right?”

  He could have believed that a lot more easily if her smile hadn’t lacked its usual brightness.

  “About the weekend . . .” He debated for a second. “I can’t guarantee it, okay? But you’re right. It would be good to get away.” He clarified. “It would be great to get away with you. So let me look at the schedule and see what I can and can’t move. If I can make this happen, I will.”

  “Sounds more than good.”

  On that, he couldn’t have agreed more.

  ***

  Jenna wasn’t supposed to be at the debate. Not as a member of Cole’s team, anyway. But Allison’s kids had the flu and Ram had his hands full handling the information table and Tim was out of town and Aubrey called Jenna in a panic to say that she had a migraine coming on and she had to leave immediately while she could still drive home. So with twenty minutes to go before the debate, Jenna pulled into the parking lot at Town Hall. Ram was waiting by the door.

  “Thanks for coming.,” he said. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but your job is to sit in the back, take notes on the debate and what you hear people saying about Cole and Tadeson, and try to avoid anyone seeing that you’re one of us.”

  “Understood.”

  He shoved a notebook into her hand and squeezed her arm. “Sorry if that sounded harsh. You know it’s not you.”

  “I know.”

  Town Hall was housed in a former elementary school. Jenna had vague memories of attending first grade here, but then everyone had been moved to the new school, which was on the (then) edge of the town and offered more room for a playground and soccer fields. All those former classrooms had been repurposed into offices and meeting spaces. The building housed the police station, the library, the senior center, and the town offices. All it needed was a doctor’s office and it could have been a real cradle-to-grave facility.

  The debate was being held in the former auditorium/gymnasium. The pros? Lots of space to set up folding chairs. Good, because the room was filled close to capacity. The bad? There was no such thing as a dark corner. There wasn’t even a post to hide behind. Jenna felt like there was a spotlight on her as she made her way to the back corner opposite the door.

  Head down, mouth shut, no eye contact . . . Jeez. Was she taking notes for a political campaign, or was she doing the walk of shame?

  Given her name and history, it was probably a little of both.

  There were two older women sitting in the prime chairs already. Jenna squinted and was pretty sure that she had seen at least one of them in Margie’s shop before. Probably best not to sit near them. She would get tugged into conversation and be unable to concentrate. Besides which, if she needed to escape, it would be difficult to do so if she was trapped in the middle of the row.

  She eyed the bit of the floor in the corner, sighed, and gave silent thanks that she had pulled on her most comfortable shoes.

  Once settled in the corner, she flipped open her notepad and bent over it, keeping her head down and her ears open. Right now it was hard to hear anything in particular. The crowd mutter
ed. Chairs squeaked. Fans clicked on. Jenna did a cursory estimate of attendance and scanned the room in search of any potential donors or event hosts. She spotted a couple of possibilities and was writing down names when there was a new energy to the modified din surrounding her.

  Time to start? Probably. She finished making her note, raised her head from her pad, and spotted a gut-sinkingly familiar face marching toward the back of the room.

  Dear God in Heaven, what was her father doing here?

  Rob’s face was the definition of blank as he hunted for an empty seat. The din shifted into a constant sibilant whisper: “Elias . . . Elias . . . Elias.”

  Jenna looked down again, fast, praying that Rob hadn’t spotted her. She didn’t think he had. But as she monitored him from the corner of her eye, holding her breath as he continued toward the back of the room, she had the terrifying feeling that he was headed straight for her. Why else would he be bypassing the few empty seats?

  Though maybe years in prison had left him with that same feeling that cops always had, that they needed to sit with their back to the wall and a clear view of everything around them.

  Head bowed, she waited.

  Nothing.

  At last, shielding her face with her notebook, she risked a glance. Rob was on the other side of the auditorium, standing against the wall about halfway between the back of the room and the stage. He had a clear view of the room, the stage, and her.

  Maybe she could move . . .

  But just then, the moderator—the teacher in charge of the high school’s debate team, how cute—stepped up to the microphone. The lights dimmed slightly. Jenna shrank back into the shadows, ordered her leg to behave, and prayed that she could get through this without screwing up anything.

  Breathe, Jenna. Concentrate. This is for Cole.

  She allowed herself a moment to drink in the sight of him behind his podium. Good man. He’d gone with the solid navy suit she had suggested, rather than the pinstripe one Allison had favored. The pinstripe went better with his eyes, but the deep blue looked richer and more substantial beneath the lights. When he was up against Tadeson’s slightly gray respectability, his whole aura of trustworthiness, Cole needed all the Solid and Knowledgeable points he could get.

  The moderator introduced Tadeson first, giving a brief rundown of his years in office and notable achievements. Applause was hearty. He had a lot of fans in the town, no doubt about it.

  Next came Cole. Jenna jotted down the key points of his bio as if she had never met the man. Did they really need to mention his years in corporate law? Good, remind folks he grew up in the area. Grandparents from Calypso Falls, lawyer, solid citizen . . . whoa. Eagle Scout?

  She shouldn’t have been surprised.

  “Mr. Tadeson, you’ll start us off tonight. Here’s the first question. Downtown Calypso Falls underwent a transformation a few years ago, but recently, the number of empty storefronts and office spaces has begun to increase once again. What is your plan for dealing with the exodus from downtown?”

  Tadeson launched into his answer, making sure to work in mentions of his years as a volunteer firefighter and his own days running a shoe store downtown. He was good. The crowd loved him.

  Damned crowd.

  Cole stepped up and let the applause for Tadeson fade away. He waited a beat before smiling at the crowd.

  He had a great smile.

  Jenna could feel the shift in the crowd. People sat up a little straighter. They stopped muttering. Jenna could almost feel the folks around her readjusting their glasses and cocking their heads and waiting eagerly to hear what he had to say.

  Tadeson was well liked, that was for certain. But if she had to pick one word to express how the audience felt about Cole, right at this moment, she would have to say that they were open.

  Maybe this wasn’t such a Don Quixote campaign after all.

  “It’s funny that you should mention your store, Paul,” Cole began, “because I remember my grandmother taking me there when I was a kid.”

  He launched into a story about visiting the shoe store, stopping in for ice cream when the shoes were purchased, walking along the edge of the fountain that stood in the small green space in the heart of downtown. Jenna heard a few chuckles. She spotted a number of heads nodding, heard murmurs of agreement as Cole discussed previous efforts for revitalizing the area, praising Tadeson for what was already in place, then outlining his own plan that revolved around the creation of a pedestrian mall and better parking.

  A thrill of pride shot through her at the enthusiastic applause that greeted his proposal. The increased buzz of conversation also seemed to be in Cole’s favor. She had to stare at her notebook to hide the broad grin that she was pretty sure would proclaim to one and all that she was part of Team Dekker. All of a sudden she felt a lot more sympathy for obnoxious parents at school performances who made sure everyone within hearing knew that the prodigy performing up on stage was their kid.

  Not that Cole was her guy. They weren’t officially dating. They weren’t officially anything. But still, it was hard to stop the bubble of happy rising inside her when she heard that applause and thought, hey, that awesome guy standing up there, answering questions and energizing the crowd? Yeah. That awesome guy likes me.

  Talk about a heady sensation.

  Her joy continued through the debate. Cole never destroyed Tadeson, never wiped the floor with him, but as the night went on it became clear that the audience was impressed. They leaned forward when he spoke and listened more attentively. In fairness, this could simply be the novelty factor. They’d all known Tadeson for so long and heard him so many times that he was like a song you could sing in your sleep. Cole, though, was a fresh new voice. Of course he was going to generate interest. The fact that the fresh new voice was saying things they liked was a bonus.

  She finished recording notes about the audience response to his discussion of the fire station issue, wrote down a reminder that they needed to schedule another meeting with the fire chief, then stopped before she could add the next point. Her skin felt . . . prickly. Not tight, but like every cell on her skin had gathered itself up in preparation for running away.

  She was pretty sure of the cause even before she raised her head and spotted her father staring at her.

  If he was expecting a wave or a smile, he was SOL. She returned his gaze with all the calm disinterest she could fake, even while her feet twitched from the need to flee. When she felt certain she’d made her point, she faced forward again, eyes firmly on Cole while she sent out telepathic orders to Rob to behave, damn it.

  Somewhere out of the blue, a memory surfaced. One of Rob’s events. A parade, or a ribbon cutting, maybe. He loved to bring his girls along to those things. She remembered standing beside Bree, both of them in their poufy red plaid dresses—yes, it must have been Christmas—holding hands while a bunch of grown-ups cheered and clapped. But it had been too loud for her. Bree was okay, she was two years older, but Jenna vividly remembered going from happy and proud to scared and needy in the space of a breath. She let go of Bree’s hand, ready to turn and grab Daddy’s leg and cling to him, but before she could do that—before she could say anything or make any other move—Rob swept her up into his arms and cuddled her close. She could still smell his Old Spice as she buried her face into his shoulder. She could still feel his arms tight around her. She could still hear his voice, low against her ear, whispering that it was okay. She was okay. Daddy had her. And nothing had ever felt safer.

  A burst of laughter from the audience drew her back to the moment. She lifted her chin and pushed the memory deep into the brain-closet where it belonged. Rob Elias had nothing to do with safety or security. His very presence here had her apprehensive, and if anyone were to see him and her and figure out her association with Cole . . .

  This was why she had to get out of Calypso Falls. She needed to be
someplace where she wouldn’t have to always worry that her name and parentage would be—at best—a complication.

  Shit, but she wished she hadn’t been called in tonight.

  She spent the remainder of the debate with her head down and her eyes averted, save for occasional sideways glances to ensure that Rob hadn’t moved. She didn’t even allow herself to look up when Cole gave an answer that had the audience roaring with laughter—an answer that drew on a story she had told him just three days earlier.

  She would have loved to see his face as the crowd responded to her tale. She would have loved to be able to watch him grin as he approached the punch line, to see the faint blush that she knew would have crept across his face at the enthusiastic response. He was the most “aw shucks” guy she had ever met. Missing out on this chance was yet another in the long list of opportunities Rob Elias had stolen from her.

  At last the official portion of the debate was over. The moderator thanked both candidates and announced that they would each take three questions from the audience. As hands shot into the air, a voice that Jenna had dreaded boomed out from the side of the room.

  “I would like to know Mr. Dekker’s position on ways the town can support people who are starting over. Folks returning from deployment, folks who have managed to get clean and sober.” He paused slightly. “People who have been incarcerated.”

  What the hell? What was this, some power play to make her acknowledge him? Or had he— Oh, crap. Had Rob figured out there was something happening between her and Cole? Was he trying to find out if Cole might be an ally?

  She ducked her head and hunched her shoulders and stared at the white paper in her notebook so intently that she feared she might go snow-blind.

  “That’s an interesting question,” Cole said. “I’m not sure if it falls under the town’s jurisdiction. It seems to me you’re talking about an area that is better addressed with county or state resources. However, I certainly can see that it would be worth looking into the town’s hiring practices to ensure that we are doing all we can to assist those who need a new direction, while making sure that we are still maintaining a quality staff that can give the taxpayers the performance they deserve.”