See You Again

Chapter 1-2

“Agnes Crockett is complaining about that stoplight at Market and Spring Street again.”

Mayor Sandra Crawford resisted the urge to bang her head against the desk. That defective stoplight had been the object of more contention…

“What do you want to do about it?” Avery asked.

“Put it on the agenda for the next City Council meeting.” It wasn’t the first time it had been on there and probably wouldn’t be the last. Their town was in considerably better shape financially than it had been, but they had other priorities. Like recovering from the $124,000 their previous city planner had embezzled from city coffers. Sandy still hadn’t gotten over the fact that had happened on her watch.

“What’s next?”

Her administrative assistant consulted the list in her hands. “You’ve got a meeting with the Christmas parade planning committee next week to discuss in-case-of-rain plans. And at three o’clock you’re meeting with Linda Odom and Beulah Cartwright.”

“Why?”

“Well, it seems the Singing Christmas Tree has become the Battle of the Baptists. There isn’t enough room for everyone in the stands, so someone has to decide who actually gets that honor—the choir from First Baptist or from St. Paul Baptist.”

“How did that someone get to be me? I’m no music expert.”

“No, but you’re the boss.”

Sandy loved her job—most of the time. Her town meant everything to her. But some days, she felt less like the mayor and more like an over-extended kindergarten teacher. Today was clearly going to be one of those days. “I guess I can’t fake food poisoning, can I?”

“Not unless you want to get on Mama Pearl’s bad side for impugning the diner’s meatloaf.”

She’d rather face her ex-husband than insult the Goddess of Gossip herself. That would be the shortest route to historic low approval ratings. “Then I guess I’m putting on my mediator hat. Where are we on reports of damage from last night’s storms?”

“A lot of roof stuff. Some downed power lines that Light and Water is already handling. All in all, not nearly as bad as it could’ve been. Those straight-line winds were killer.”

“Let’s all be grateful. Is that everything?”

“Just one more for now. Mamie Landon wanted to schedule a time with you to discuss fundraiser options for the Coleman family. They lost everything in the fire last week. The area churches have taken care of the necessities, but there’s still the issue of where they’re going to live.”

That right there was why Sandy loved what she did. Because her town cared about their own. “See if you can schedule that for tomorrow. And while you’re at it, check with Brody Jensen and see if you can’t get him in as well.” Brody was one of her son Cam’s best friends. He’d returned to town a year ago and opened his own construction firm. It could be he’d have some ideas about rebuilding and could give them a cost estimate for reconstruction.

“I’m on it.”

As Avery rose from the chair across the desk, a knock sounded on the open door. Sandy looked up to find Cam standing in the hall. Her quick spurt of pleasure shifted to a Momdar alert as she caught sight of his face.

“Got a minute?” he asked.

“For you, always.”

He murmured a hello to Avery as she passed, then shut the door.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“A tree took out the church.”

Sandy blinked at him. “I’m sorry, what?”

“That big old oak got uprooted in the storm and fell on the church. I just came from there. The damage is pretty extensive.”

“But…how? The storm wasn’t that bad…was it?”

“With all the rain we’ve had the past few weeks, the ground was loose. With those winds…it just went straight on over.” Her tall, broad-shouldered son scooped a hand through his blond hair. “Norah cried. She never cries.”

Sandy knew that gutted Cam. His fiancée had been a beacon of hope during the darkest hours for their town. If she was shaken, the situation must be worse than dire.

“We’ve been planning this for months. It took nearly a year to pin her down for a date in the first place. How the hell are we going to have a wedding with no venue?”

Her mind was already spinning, considering options. “We’ll find a way. I promise.” She didn’t know what that way was, but she’d find it if only to take that look of dejection off her baby’s face.

“I’ve gotta get back to the nursery—we’re rotating some stock for a Thanksgiving sale and Violet wants me to do up some more planters—but I just wanted to swing by and let you know, so you could put your thinking cap on.”

Sandy came around her desk and hugged him tight, wondering when he’d started towering over her since he was twelve years old yesterday. “I’ll do that. And I’ll call Mom. She’ll call everybody else. Between the lot of us, we’ll figure something out. We’ve got nearly two weeks.”

“It’ll take a miracle.”

It might take more than that. But Sandy kept the thought to herself as she ushered her son out. When he was gone, she paced a few restless laps in her office. Needing to move, she grabbed her phone and her purse and stepped out into the outer office. “Avery, I’m going for a quick walk. Can you forward my calls, please?”

“Sure thing, Sandra.”

She headed down the stairs, her sensible heels echoing off the walls. With a smile and a nod for old Jerry Noble, the security guard manning the front desk, Sandy stepped out of City Hall. She paused for a moment on the steps, soaking in the sight and sound of the town she loved. Courtesy of her future daughter-in-law, Wishful was enjoying its first economic growth in decades. The facelift Norah had arranged to give downtown was in evidence everywhere Sandy looked. Pedestrians strolled the sidewalks and cars lined the streets on all sides of the town green. Her town was not only still alive, it was thriving.

Looking both ways, Sandy crossed Main Street to the town green. Her destination lay at the far end. Fed by nearby Hope Springs, the fountain dated back to just after the Civil War. And according to local legend, it granted wishes. Norah had rebranded the entire town around it. Banners with their slogan hung from every street lamp that marched the length of Main Street. Welcome to Wishful, Where Hope Springs Eternal. She wasn’t sure if she really believed. It had been years since she’d made a wish herself and that one hadn’t panned out. But because they desperately needed some of that hope if they were going to save Cam and Norah’s wedding, Sandy strode purposefully to the fountain.

The happy burble of water was soothing and nice to hear after years of nothing. The temperamental old fountain hadn’t run properly since Cam was little, but over the past couple of years, it had slowly been coming back to life. Digging a quarter out of her purse, Sandy held it tight. I wish for a miracle to save Cam and Norah’s wedding.

She tossed it in, listening to the thunk as it hit the water.

Well, that was that. Maybe she should run by Brides and Belles and talk to Babette Wofford. She might have some ideas for alternative, last-minute venues. As she hit the far side of the green and prepared to cross over Spring Street, her phone rang.

“What is it, Avery?” Sandy prayed it wasn’t another disaster from the storm.

“You’ve got a call from Louis Harker over at The Babylon.”

She’d seen the name often enough over the past year and a half as the city had begun doing more business with Peyton Consolidated, but generally Norah handled all the liaising. Then again, Norah was supposed to be out for meetings with the Chamber of Commerce this afternoon. “Patch him through.”

A moment later, the call connected.

“This is Sandra.”

“Mayor Crawford, this is Louis Harker. I’m Gerald Peyton’s executive assistant. I’m calling to inquire whether you’d be free for dinner this evening.”

It was the last thing she’d expected him to say. “I beg your pardon?”

“With Mr. Peyton,” he added. “He has some business he’d like to discuss with you.”

Sandy’s curiosity piqued. Her town had been doing business with Peyton Consolidated for eighteen months, but she’d never actually met the mysterious Gerald Peyton, III. He was rarely in town, and when he was, he tended to keep to his hotel. According to the local gossip mill, he worked long hours, usually ordering in meals, and rarely actually leaving his offices at The Babylon. All his direct interactions with the city had been handled through Norah, as she was the one who’d convinced him to invest.

“Does Norah need to be in attendance as well?”

“No ma’am. Mr. Peyton was clear this was a meeting specifically for you. Are you available?”

Curiouser and curiouser. “I can be. What time?”

“Seven o’clock. The Spring House.”

“I’ll be there.”

She hung up and her imagination fired. What on Earth could Gerald Peyton want to discuss with her over an after-hours dinner meeting? Especially one without Norah. Did he have some problem with her future daughter-in-law? Was he going to try to hire her away again? Sandy had no idea. But as she prepared for her next meeting, her brain turned to a far more important question.

What did one wear to a business dinner with a billionaire?