by Tom Soule
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright 2015 by Tom Soule & Ricardo Taylor - All rights reserved.
All rights Reserved. No part of this publication or the information in it may be quoted from or reproduced in any form by means such as printing, scanning, photocopying or otherwise without prior written permission of the copyright holder.
Disclaimer and Terms of Use: Effort has been made to ensure that the information in this book is accurate and complete, however, the author and the publisher do not warrant the accuracy of the information, text and graphics contained within the book due to the rapidly changing nature of science, research, known and unknown facts and internet. The Author and the publisher do not hold any responsibility for errors, omissions or contrary interpretation of the subject matter herein. This book is presented solely for motivational and informational purposes only.
Table of Content
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Table of Content
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
ChapterSix
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter One
The clock struck twelve and the store was already crammed with hungry desperate customers rubbing shoulder to shoulder, itching for a sweet treat during the lunch session. They poured in droves to the newest trendy pastry shop in town, “Cream Fusion.”
The cozy pastry shop had high ceilings, with modern art work hanging at each corner of the walls, creating the perfect atmosphere for a modern contemporary eatery.
“Cream Fusion” baked fresh the finest gourmet cakes, muffins and cupcakes in Huntington. It also served hot or cold beverages at the customer’s request.
Samuel Hamilton, wearing a dark gray suit that hugged his chiseled body, stood several feet away from “Cream Fusion,” just enough to glimpse inside without being detected. His beloved ex-fiancée Kimberly Johnson was working the best hours of her new store. Each time the door swung open, he lifted his chin and stretched his neck, hoping to glimpse her even once. Instead, he saw Mrs. Bellman and her broad straw braid hat blocking his view.
A disappointed Sam shook his head. “I know she is going to get the carrot cake, the new customer special,” he thought. “She always orders the same thing.” He wondered why she couldn’t shake things up for a change. “I mean, I love carrot cake too, but every day?” Deep down, his issues weren’t really the carrot cake; it was that he couldn’t hang out with Kim, the love of his life, but it was easier to blame Mrs. Bellman.
He refocused his attention on his failed relationship and his fruitless attempts to see his ex-fiancée. After 15 minutes outside, he abandoned his hopes when the impenetrable crowd stood like a brick wall, blocking his view of the large glass counter full of pastries.
He made his slow journey back to City Hall. “At least I can get Jerry to pick up my favorite cupcake, aaaaah the moist fudge flavored one. Ooh man, I miss that girl.” Sam smiled as he reminisced about his lost love and her baked goodies.
Sam finally reached his destination: Huntington’s Town Hall Legislative House. He pushed through the revolving doors and instantly was harassed by the town clerk who desperately sought his approval.
“Sir, please,” the town clerk asked eagerly. “Can I please get your signature on the new zoning audits?”
“No, not right now.” Sam said. “Bring it to Lisa. She will put it on my timetable.” Sam's stern dismissive attitude was not like him. The toll of his failed engagement had started to affect his professional life, diminishing his usually calm demeanor.
Sam was already bombarded and he hadn’t even reached his office yet. The Legislative House, a French Renaissance building, was bustling with council members, special interest groups, and advisors making new grand plans for the city of Huntington. Sam quickly rushed through the security checkpoint and made his way to the elevator before anyone else could steal his time.
Once Sam finally reached the Mayor’s Chambers, he found a group of six senior council members patiently waiting for the appointed interim mayor to confirm a new proposal. All eyes were fastened on Sam as he entered, took his seat and listened attentively to the council’s proposition.
A heavy-set man, 6'2, got up and spoke.
“You’re doing such a fine job as interim Mayor,” enthused Mr. Guttman. “The economy is coming back and new citizens are moving in. We had it rough last year, but like a phoenix, this town is rising out of the ash.” He continued to boast about the rising new Huntington. But as usual, Guttman went off onto a tangent. He looked intensely at Sam. “Back in my day, men had guts and hearts…a--”
Fuming with a desire to focus on the proposal, Harold, a toupee council member, intervened. “Cut to the fun stuff, Guttman,” he said contemptuously. “Sam, what Guttman is trying to say is that we want you to run for mayor on your own mandate, not just as interim mayor.”
Sam’s jaw dropped at the mention of the five-year job. Uneasily, he propped himself up, smoothed his jet-black hair, then moved his attention away from Guttman and Harold, to glare at the other members of the council.
“That was not my plan. I just wanted to bring the town back to recovery and step down once Huntington was in a good place,” he explained.
Ignoring Sam’s plea, Guttman walked over to a wine/liquor cabinet in one corner of the room, poured a 70-year old Scotch into a glass, and slid it in front of Sam.
“You're the best man for the job! You have an excellent track record so far and you're the new face for the recovery. Huntington needs you a little longer.”
Guttman cleverly targeted Sam’s deep desire to help the people of Huntington, in order to carry out his own agenda. He neglected to tell Sam that new investors were interested in funding more construction sites, and they needed the mayor’s approval before the investors could start building the new commercial properties. Guttman wanted Sam to be the mayor who would approve these construction proposals.
“Conveniently,” Guttman continued, “I found an old bylaw that allows an incumbent mayor to run unopposed in a state of emergency. We have already decided, Sam. It's still premature for us to change leadership, so all six members of the council voted for an unopposed election in September, due to a state of economic emergency.”
Sam stared sternly at Guttman and Harold. He felt disingenuous about this so called “grand plan.” It placed his political beliefs in a tough spot.
“The people need their voice in a town election; that’s one thing I promised them when I took this position six months ago,” he proclaimed patriotically.
“You're still young, son,” Harold said, his dark eyes piercing the interim mayor.
“See, that’s why you are perfect for this position; you are a man of the people. You will safeguard their voice, but the next challenger might not…. Besides, you cann
ot fight us on this. Are you going to walk away from Huntington after working relentlessly for months to bring it to this point?”
Sam scratched his head indecisively.
Obviously these older men are wise and brilliant. They have guided me so far, and they do have a point. I took a failing town with a broken treasury and a failing economy and created a functional town with a growing business. Maybe this is not the time to walk away.
Speechless, Sam wrapped his head around the possibility of holding the mayor gig for five years. He quickly grabbed the glass of expensive Scotch.
“I'm in!” he said, gulping the drink. Guttman and Harold smiled in a satisfied manner.
After the meeting, Sam could not shake the feeling that he was being a deceitful politician. He felt like he had signed a deal with the devil. He sat alone in the Mayor's Chambers and reflected. I honestly don't know if I could do this. I am so overwhelmed.
“Ring, Ring.” His phone disturbed his thoughts on his current dilemma.
“Hello--- Ma, I am at work; this is not a good time,” Sam said with concern.
“I am just so proud of my baby boy the mayor,” she said gleefully.
“Ma, I'm actually really busy.”
“Shucks, my son cannot even spare two seconds,” Marie said, using her motherly guilt trip. “I'm planning a special dinner for the entire family in June; I even got Pete and Portia from New Orleans.”
“Ma, I don’t think I will be available,” Sam muttered. He planned to be busy that day.
“Nonsense; I already checked with Lisa and your schedule is wide open.” Sam shook his head in horror at the thought of visiting his overbearing mother. He knew full well her intention to flaunt him in front of her country club lady friends and boast to Uncle Pete. Moreover, she disapproved of his beloved Kim.
“Ma, what is this party really about, and be honest!” Sam said sternly.
“You have to ruin the surprise,” sighed Marie. “I just wanted some time with the family to celebrate your success. The last time I was in Huntington, police investigations and curfews were the talking points. Now, I hear about summer festivals and the Huntington Parade. You guys haven’t done one of those in a while, but you somehow pulled that all back together.”
“Ma, it was a lot of team effort; I cannot take all the credit.”
“You were always so generous, ever since you were a little boy.”
To squash her walk down memory lane, he said, “Ma ….okay, okay, I will make your dinner.” But in the back of his mind, he already regretted it.
“Great! I'm going to make all your favorite steaks and mashed potatoes…”
“Ma, sure, but I have to go.”
“Samuel!” Marie called out tearfully, “I am so proud of you!”
"Yeah, I know. I've gotta go."
Marie clutched the phone a little longer as the dial tone beeped in her ear, thinking how her little Samuel was all grown up to be the mayor of a thriving town.
On the other end of the phone line, Sam was very dissatisfied with his secretary Lisa.
“How could you give sensitive information out?” he scolded.
“I am so sorry, Sir; she told me it would be a meaningful surprise, I didn’t know….”
“In the future, don’t let my mother know my schedule.” Sam controlled his anger as he explained to Lisa about past attempts by his mother to control his life.
At first, Lisa was scared by Sam’s anger: she had never seen him this upset before. Once Sam explained, however, she understood why he was so guarded with his mother. Her disapproval of Kim was a big contributing factor in Sam’s coldness towards her. Sadly, he still was not ready to deal with it.
Chapter Two
One of Sam’s first mayoral duties was to drop the hammer on the old sheriff and hire a new one. It was a tough decision, but Sam felt a change was needed in order for the citizens to feel safe again.
When Sam’s ten o’clock appointment approached Lisa’s desk, she cautiously crawled to the Mayor’s Chamber and gently knocked before poking her head in.
“Mr. Hamilton, your ten o'clock appointment is here.”
Sam smiled broadly. “Great! Send him in.”
Lisa was relieved that her handsome kind boss was more like himself again.
She had been concerned that he was still upset with her.
“Aah, Detective Mulling!” Sam said delightedly. Mulling, in his mid-30s, was a strongly-built rugged veteran detective, sporting a white button-down shirt and black pants. Doubtfully, he looked at the young mayor. Unknown to Mulling, what Sam lacked in age, he made up for with stern directness.
“I am so happy to see you!” Sam said, shaking the detective's hand firmly. Mulling smiled guardedly.
“Mayor Hamilton. I haven’t gotten used to calling you that yet,” he said playfully.
“Please call me Sam! After working that big case last year, we're on a first-name basis.”
“With all due respect, I don’t know why I am here,” Mulling said.
Sam chuckled with amusement. “Get comfortable; we have much to discuss.” A vein throbbed on Mulling’s neck as he contemplated why the mayor would want to speak with him. He sank down in a leather brown chair.
While Mulling got comfortable, Sam pulled out a large brown folder, glanced at a few details, then asked,
“So, how does 'Sheriff Mulling' sound?”
Mulling made a stern poker-face. “Are you serious!”
“Yes I am. I spoke to the town council members and they were very pleased with the operation you conducted last year. Your leadership stood out, and now the sheriff position is vacant. Right now, I just need a 'yes' and it is official,” Sam said proudly.
Stunned by Sam’s proposal, Detective Mulling sank into the brown leather chair and started to press his feet into the office carpet as a nervous coping habit. The more he thought, the deeper he sank. The chair seemed to swallow him whole.
“I….don’t know, I have no real managerial training… and besides, Sheriff King was my mentor. I just don’t feel comfortable taking my mentor’s old job.”
Mulling honestly bared his concerns. King, after all, had shepherded Mulling over a 12-year career, and personally taught him the ropes. Mulling owed everything to King. “Worst case scenario, King assumes I went after his job. For sure the entire department would resent me.”
Sam listened attentively, stretched out his hand and spoke confidently.
“Look Mulling, if you don’t even consider the job, you're going to be saddled with a new boss. Your department needs some shaking up, and I have to pick someone that I think can get the job done. I already got the managerial part covered. I got the chief deputy from Bayset who will work with you for four months to help you adjust to your new role.”
“Oh, it looks like you got this all figured out, huh… I need to sleep on it, this is a big move and I'm not ready. I don’t even dress the part, I wear polo shirts and jeans to work and ---.” Mulling shook his head “No” as he searched for all the reasons he shouldn’t be the new sheriff. Inwardly, he was quite impressed with the level of thought and strategic planning Sam had done regarding the new sheriff position.
How the hell had he gotten Bayset to assist Huntington? These two towns always compete for resources. Mulling, the cunning detective, filed away his A+ rating of the new mayor.
Sam looked intensely at Mulling. “Buck up! You said in your file that you wanted to make deputy. Now you have the chance. So what if you have to wear a few suits? You’re the best man for the position, and deep down you know it.”
Sam's words started to stir on Mulling’s mind. He continued his silent assessment of Sam. The more Sam spoke, the more inspired he became, and his confidence began to set in.
“Okay, I'll sleep on it.”
Sam frowned. Mulling had no idea of the kind of person he was dealing with.
The mayor was very persistent and accepted nothing but submission.
“I need a ‘yes’
today or the position is off the table. I have another council meeting later today and I intend on giving them an answer. So, what is it going to be?”
Backed into a corner, Mulling decided to be sheriff.
“Come take a drink with me,” Sam said, excitedly pouring whiskey to celebrate the new sheriff.
What have I gotten myself into? Mulling thought to himself. He didn't usually drink whiskey in the middle of the day. His unease still plagued him, and the whiskey didn’t make the decision any easier. Mulling's main problem was his old mentor’s feelings, but he also had a new one. He was out-schooled by the young intriguing mayor. I see why he sits in the mayor's chamber, Mulling thought. Age is truly just a number.
Chapter Three
It was 1:00 in the afternoon. Jerry, Sam’s personal assistant, rushed in with goodies from “Cream Fusion.” Jerry was a thin 20-ish college student with greasy dark blonde hair; he was a temp who frequently ran errands.
