by Cat Johnson
“Good morning to you.” Agnes smiled. “You up and writing early today?” she asked, glancing at my outfit.
I guess it was obvious I wasn’t on my way out.
The question put me on the defense, even though I knew she wasn’t judging me. She was simply used to me hunkering down and not getting dressed, or leaving the house, for days at a time when I had a deadline and was deep into writing.
“I need to write, but actually, I was checking on my Facebook ads for the election. And then I checked my email. Then I ended up on the Mudville forum.”
It was the forum that had become the rabbit hole I’d fallen down for the past hour or more.
Lips pressed together, she nodded. “When is your book due?”
The subtext of that question was unspoken, but blaringly loud. I should be writing. Not on the internet.
I loved the old woman like my second mother—and right now she was acting like she was my mother.
Warm mug cradled in my hands, I said, “I have time. Besides, I work best under pressure.”
Graying brows rose. “Yes. So I’ve seen.”
I realized I wasn’t always nice to be around when I had a book due. “Thank you for putting up with me. Especially when I’m up against a deadline.”
Her lips twitched up in a smile. “It’s not a problem. I’ll just check on you every once in a while to make sure you’re still alive up there.”
I laughed because it was true. “I’ll get to the book. I promise. I just need a good plot. I’m hoping getting out and focusing on the election will maybe jog some ideas.”
“And how are things going with the election?” she asked.
“Good, I guess.” I lifted a shoulder. “I have nothing to judge by. This is the first thing I’ve ever run for—”
I didn’t get to finish my sentence as Red came flying through the back door and into the kitchen.
Her face was flushed as she looked from Agnes to me. “Did you take down your signs?”
“My Write-In Harper Lowinsky for Mudville Mayor signs? No. Why?” I frowned.
“They’re gone.”
“What?” I set my mug down and ran toward the front of the house.
Sure enough, when I made it across the foyer and to the windows that faced the front yard, the spot where my sign had been was empty. Nothing but dry fallen leaves decorated the lawn in its place.
I spun back to find Red and Agnes had followed me. “It’s gone.”
Red nodded. “Yours is gone and so is the one I had in front of my shop.”
Her cell phone dinged. She read the screen and glanced up at me, her face flushing deeper. “It’s from Cash. The one at the farm stand is gone as well.”
Muttering something I couldn’t hear, Agnes spun and stalked away toward the kitchen. What she was doing I didn’t know, nor did I ask.
I was too shocked. It felt like I’d been kicked in the gut. I felt violated. Betrayed. Hurt and angry at the same time.
Who would do such a thing?
Red’s cell rang. She glanced at the display and said, “It’s Bethany.”
Even as she swiped the screen and answered, I had a feeling I knew what the call was about.
That was confirmed when she shook her head and raised her gaze to me. “All three from that end of town are gone. The one in front of Honey Buns, the diner and Mudville House.”
My knees felt weak. I needed to sit down. But at the same time, I needed to move. To do something. Yell at someone. At whom, was the question.
“What kind of insecure, weak-minded, ball-less, low-life steals campaign signs? The mayor wouldn’t do this, would he? Is he that afraid he’ll lose that he’d do this?”
“It might not have been him personally. He does have supporters in this town,” Red pointed out.
I blew out a breath. “And all I have are critics.”
If Mayor Pickett and his supporters wanted a war, I’d give him a war.
I had the knowledge, experience and resources to do it. I’d been going all out promoting my books for years. Promoting myself for mayor would be easy.
“I’m sure you have lots of people who support you. Just Stone’s immediate family alone is like a dozen votes,” Red pointed out.
Meanwhile, my mind was racing a mile a minute. I was ready to drive to the nearest Staples or Kinkos, no matter how far that was, and have two hundred flyers printed up. I’d plaster this entire town with Vote for Harper hand-outs.
I’d show him—I’d show this whole town—what an intelligent, determined woman could do when she set her mind to it.
Agnes reappeared, saving Red from the responsibility of soothing my increasingly bad mood. “Open the door, sweetheart. Carson’s pulling up.”
“Did you call the sheriff? Over my signs?” I asked.
A bit of the bluster was taken out of me since I was standing in the foyer in flamingo-print pajama bottoms and a slightly stained oversized pink sweatshirt with fuzzy slippers.
“Of course, I called to report it. Harper, it’s illegal to tamper with campaign signs. Even for elections on the local level.”
I glanced out the window and saw Carson was indeed parking his deputy sheriff’s car along the curb in front of the house.
He’d be at the door any moment, leaving me no time to run upstairs and throw on some decent clothes.
“He sure got here fast.” Normally, that would be a good thing. Today, not so much.
I moved to the first set of doors, fighting both my embarrassment over my appearance and the old pain-in-the-butt door lock at the same time.
After I got the outer door unlocked, I stepped behind it to hide as much of myself as I could as I pulled it open.
I spotted him chugging from a to-go coffee cup before he stashed it back in the console and slammed the car door. The deputy’s speed to answer the call of duty made more sense now. He’d been right down the block at Bethany’s getting coffee.
Just my luck.
I ran my hand through my hair, as if that mattered given the state of the rest of my appearance. I was very happy dating Stone, but that didn’t mean I wanted to look like crud in front of the deputy who was one of the town’s most eligible bachelors.
Carson was as handsome as he was humble. And now he was here to take my statement—while I was in my pajamas.
Maybe I’d better take a page out of Aunt Agnes’s book and start getting dressed first thing in the morning.
Nah. Who was I kidding. If I hadn’t made a habit of doing that yet at my age, I wasn’t going to now.
“Carson. Thank you for coming. Come in.” Agnes, thank goodness, played hostess and greeted our guest as I continued to half hide, first behind the door, and then behind Red.
“What are you doing?” she asked when I physically bumped into the back of her.
“Hiding that I’m in pajamas,” I hissed.
She laughed. “He’s seen worse, I’m sure. Besides, you’re wearing a sweatshirt. You’re fine.”
Easy for her to say, in her favorite wool tailored blazer worn open over some vintage concert T-shirt from her vast collection, jeans and Converse. Red was absolutely adorable, as usual, flaunting her own unique quirky style that always seemed to work for her.
I scowled, not agreeing with her at all that I looked fine. But I didn’t have time to worry more as Carson turned to me.
“How many signs exactly were taken?”
Time to get down to business. I moved enough I could talk to him past Red’s shoulder as we all stood in Agnes's sweeping foyer.
“Five.” I ticked off the locations of where they had been located before they were taken.
He nodded and took notes in his tiny notebook. I mentally took notes myself to try and remember to have any characters in law enforcement that I wrote into my book also use tiny notebooks.
Carson glanced up. “Okay. I’ll head over to Morgan's after I go back to Bethany’s and get an official statement from her. And I’ll check at the diner and Mudvill
e house to see if they have surveillance cameras. Any chance you have one here?” he asked Agnes.
“Sorry. Never needed one.”
It seemed to me we did need one. And the moment Carson left, I was getting on Amazon and ordering one.
“Can you check your cameras in the store?” Carson asked Red.
“They’re all located inside. But I’ll check if any of them might catch a view of the front out a window.”
“That’d be great. Thanks.” He flipped his notebook closed and looked at me. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
He moved to the door, and I noticed he had no problem opening the complicated catch that I always struggled with. He turned back to say, “I’ll call if I find anything.”
“Thank you,” Agnes and I said in unison as he pulled the door closed behind him.
“Well, I guess that’s all we can do for now. Come. Both of you. Let’s sit down and have a cup of coffee. It’s already been a busy morning.”
“No kidding.” Red followed Agnes and I brought up the rear.
“I do hope this doesn’t discourage you, Harper,” Agnes said as she walked. “It was nice to see a new resident of town take an interest in local politics when so many of the locals don’t. I would hate to see you give up.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to give up. I have lots of plans.”
As we entered the kitchen, Agnes turned to me. “Oh, before I forget, Laney told me to tell you that as a write-in candidate—let me get that piece of paper I wrote it on—"
Agnes plucked a paper from beneath a magnet on the side of the fridge.
"Laney said that in New York State under Section 15 for Village Elections when you win, you’ll need to file an oath within ten days of getting elected otherwise it can be deemed that you declined the position.”
“If I win, not when, but thank you for the vote of confidence. I guess I’ll figure out how to do all this before the deadline.” I took the paper from her. “And, I guess I should register to vote here too.”
“You’re not registered?” Red’s eyes widened.
“No. I mean, of course, I’m registered to vote. I vote every year, but not up here. I’m registered downstate where I used to live.”
Agnes donned a twin expression of concern to Red’s. “But you officially transferred other things up here, right? Like the address on your driver’s license.”
“No. It doesn’t expire for a couple of more years. I figured I’d do it then.”
“Your car registration address?” Agnes asked.
“That’s up next month. I’ll definitely make sure to change the address when I renew so they mail the new registration here.”
“What about the address on your income taxes?” Red asked.
“Actually, I use my parents’ address for that. The family accountant has been doing my taxes forever.”
“But your mail is at least forwarded here from your old address, right?” Red asked.
I frowned. “Actually, I don’t really get any mail. I view and pay all my bills online."
“And I assume you don’t have any utilities here in your name,” Red continued.
“Well, no. Everything is in Agnes’s name since it’s her house. I give her money—”
“Which I told you is not necessary,” Agnes cut in.
“Yes, Aunt Agnes, it is necessary. I asked you to upgrade to high speed WiFi. I should at least pay for it.”
“Harper.” Red had paled when I looked at her. “I’m not sure you can run for mayor.”
“What are you talking about?” I glanced at Agnes and saw the pained expression on her face too.
“I’m afraid Red might be right, sweetheart. I don’t think you’ve officially established residency here. And you have to be an official resident to run for mayor.”
My heart rate picked up speed. “So I’ll do it now. I’ll log into the DMV website and renew my registration with your address and change the address on my driver’s license. I’ll log into my credit card and car insurance and . . . and my cell phone account to stop paperless billing and start getting paper bills in the mail here. Then I'll register to vote here."
It was a lot to do, but I could get it done. I just needed my laptop and an hour and I’d have it all straightened out.
Agnes shook her head. “I think it’s too late.”
Red nodded. “I think so too. You probably would have had to do all that like ninety-days ago or something to establish residency to run. The election is only weeks away.”
If I thought having my signs stolen had been a kick to the gut, it was nothing compared to this blow.
I couldn’t run for mayor.
I’d lost the war before even going to battle.
This town had beaten me.
How could I ever hold my head high in Mudville again?
They already mocked me, calling me Ms. Naughty. My plan for revenge on the community forum was a failure. And now I was going to have to take down the adorable little library that Stone had built me when I’d first moved here.
I loved that thing. I didn’t want to take it down—
The back door swung open again and this time Stone came in, followed by Cash.
Stone came right to me, leaning low to wrap his arms around me where I slumped in the chair, beaten. “Hey. I heard they stole your signs. I’m sorry, baby.”
I stood and pressed closer against the wool of his jacket that smelled like the outdoors and him. “It’s okay. I don’t need signs anymore anyway.”
My voice cracked on the last word and he squeezed me closer. “Why not? You dropping out of the race?”
“No. I’m not allowed to run.” As the tears threatened to flow I kept my face hidden against Stone.
I thought I was too mad to be upset, but the tears and overwhelming feeling of defeat told a different story.
“She never established residency here. She can’t run,” Red explained.
“Damn. That sucks. I’m sorry, baby.” Stone hugged me closer.
“Hmm. If the only qualification to run for mayor is that the person is a resident, why don’t you run?” Cash asked.
“Who?” Red asked.
“Stone.” Cash tipped his chin toward his brother.
“What?” Stone dropped his hold on me to spin to face Cash.
Cash nodded. “Yeah. Why not? It’s perfect. You attend all the meetings anyway. You might as well get paid to do it. And have some power too.”
“I don’t—”
“That’s the perfect solution.” My mood brightened immediately at the idea. “The town might hate me, but they all love you.”
“Nobody hates you,” Stone argued.
“You’d definitely win,” I said, wrapping my arms around his waist again with a renewed sense of hope. “You have to do it. Please. For me.”
Stone drew in a big breath, inflating his already expansive chest. The chest I knew had mouth shaped bruises on it beneath his shirt from when I’d bit him when we were in bed together after the game.
His hazel eyes met mine before he glanced at the others in the room. Finally, he focused back on me and let out a breath. “Okay. I’ll run.”
I couldn’t help my smile. I’d lost one battle, but the war waged on. And this time our side was going to win.
EIGHT
Harper
“Okay, team, we’ve got a hundred things to do and not much time in which to do them.” I glanced around the room at the assembled group.
We weren’t many, but we were mighty. And our numbers would grow as soon as I got the word out, which is what this morning’s first impromptu meeting of the Stone Morgan for Mayor committee was all about.
I was still in my PJs. Only two of the Morgan clan were here. Agnes was more busy cooking breakfast for us than paying attention to what I was saying. Red was watching the clock because she was going to have to leave to open her store soon, but none of that was going to stop us.
We could do this. Stone could win. We just had to spread the word. And if there was one thing I was good at, it was that.
“Priority number one is—”
Stone raised his hand to stop me mid-sentence. Still riding an adrenaline high, brought on first from my anger over the stolen signs and now because of this new and promising development, I smiled. “Yes, Mr. Mayor?”
He rolled his eyes. “I’ve got to get back to the farm. Cash and I both do actually. I only stopped by to check on you after I heard about the signs.”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Cash scowl before he said, “Can’t we at least eat first?”
Stone glanced at Agnes and then nodded. “Okay. But then we have to go. We left halfway through morning chores. I thought we’d be back in a few minutes. I didn’t realize I’d be drafted for the election.”
“Recruited, not drafted,” I corrected. “And that’s fine. I only need a few minutes of your time. We can handle the business discussion quick, over breakfast, and you all can leave with a list of your action items to be completed today whenever you have time.”
Cash lifted his brows. “Damn. She’s like an Army general.”
Red snorted. “You have no idea.”
Ignoring the comments, I moved on. “As I was saying, priority number one is to get the word out to everyone that Stone is now the write-in candidate. I can edit the graphics on my computer and change the artwork on the signs to say his name instead of mine. I’ll email that to the printer and ask them to put a rush on fifty . . . maybe a hundred signs.”
“A hundred? Goodness. Where are you going to put them all?” Agnes asked, uncracked egg poised in one hand over the mixing bowl.
“Along the highway. In the corn field. On the rooftop. I don’t care. Anywhere and everywhere. And that’s what I need you guys for. To talk to everyone you see today and ask if they’d put a sign out for Stone at their home or business.”
The group nodded their agreement.
“Good. Then I’ll mock up a quick flyer and get a few hundred printed up. Red, can I drop off a stack of those for by the register in your shop?”
