Chapter Nine
Coffee at Sweetie’s Bakeshop was usually Gil’s first stop when he went to Hannigan Street. Today he was procrastinating though because he hadn’t seen Darla since breaking the news to her about the council’s decision. He wouldn’t blame her if she was furious with him. In her shoes, he probably would be.
He got out of his truck and headed toward Sweetie’s. Hopefully Darla would have another employee with her today so he could pull her aside and talk to her again. He wanted to make sure she knew how sorry he was about the situation. He also wanted to offer to help her find the perfect spot to relocate.
Opening the door, Gil glanced around, subconsciously looking for Moira.
“Mayor Gil!” Darla said with her usual cheerfulness—no trace of resentment about what he’d told her the other day.
“Hey, Darla. How are you?”
“Great. Your usual?” she asked with a ready smile.
“Actually, I was hoping you had time for another chat. Do you have help here this morning?” he asked, glancing past Darla toward the back room.
Darla’s smile wilted slightly. “I sure do. I’ll get Bailey to work the counter for me. We can talk in the back room for privacy.”
“That would be great. Thanks,” Gil said.
Darla held up a finger. “But first, I’ll make you a coffee. Knowing you, you haven’t had a cup just yet.”
“That would be correct.” Darla was so considerate of others. That was one of many reasons why closing her bakery would be an unthinkable wrong. She didn’t deserve this. He watched as she prepared a coffee just the way he’d always ordered it for the last decade. Then she called Bailey to handle the customers while she led Gil to a table in the back room.
“Please have a seat, Mayor.” She pulled out her own chair.
Gil cupped his coffee between his hands, soaking in its warmth. “Darla, I want you to know that I did everything I could to turn this decision around. I never wanted to see this bakery of yours be relocated. This is its rightful spot. If there was any other way—”
Darla held up a hand. “Stop right there. It’s okay, Gil. I’m not upset with you.”
“You’re not?”
Darla smiled calmly. “As mayor, your priority is the town. Not just one person. I know that.” She leaned in toward him and lowered her voice. “Everything in life can be compared to a good card game. Regardless of who you’re playing, you have to put down the best card for you. Not for your opponent. That’s how you play the game.”
He’d never compared his life or his job to a card game, but it made sense. “At what cost though?”
Darla shrugged and leaned back, folding her arms over her chest. “You can’t see my hand, Mayor Gil. You use your best cards, and I’ll use mine. It’s not personal. I know that.”
Since Gil had become mayor, everyone had bombarded him with demands and wishes. Everyone had their own agenda, and it seemed like no one was ever satisfied. But here Darla was, sitting across from him just as carefree as ever, still smiling in the face of possibly losing her business location. “I see where Moira gets her heroic qualities.”
Darla chuckled. “My daughter is the spitting image of her father. Always has been.”
“Maybe on the outside,” Gil said, which was definitely true. Moira and Allen both had the same dark hair and hazel eyes. “But she has your heart.”
Darla’s gaze narrowed. “Gil, I know you’ve always liked my Moira.”
He looked away. His crush had never been much of a secret. His demeanor unconsciously shifted when he was around Moira. He could actively work to be “normal” around her and fail miserably every time. “Moira is a great person.”
“Yes, she is,” Darla agreed. “But she’s not without her flaws.”
“None of us are.”
“Mm. True enough. I don’t know why she stays single. She says she has no interest in dating, but no one wants to be alone. Her friends are all finding love. I want the same for her.”
Gil cleared his throat. He wasn’t sure why Darla was telling him this. “Some people really are happier single.”
“Are you?” Darla asked.
He cleared his throat again. He could use a bottle of water right now instead of a hot coffee. “I’m not unhappy. When the right person comes along though, I’ll be ready.”
Darla nodded. “Sometimes the right person just needs a little extra time to figure things out.”
Was she insinuating that Moira was the right person for him? If so, she didn’t have a good bead on her daughter. He was probably the last person Moira would ever want to begin a relationship with—even if he’d felt something different coming from Moira lately. Or maybe that was his imagination.
“I want you to know that turning Doug down for a job here had nothing to do with me being upset about the town’s plans.”
“A job here?” Gil asked.
Darla gave him a strange look. “He didn’t tell you? Doug has come in a few times asking about a part-time job. I tried to hire him a couple years ago, and he turned me down. After he came here last month inquiring, I was planning to hire him. Then you gave me the news. I’d love to have Doug work for me but, safe to say, it’s not the best time for me to be taking on new employees.”
“I understand,” Gil said, even though he didn’t. Doug worked for him. Was Doug planning to quit, or was he going to take on two jobs? Granted, Gil didn’t pay much more than minimum wage, and being a campaign manager for a small-town mayor wasn’t exactly a full-time position.
“Maybe after I relocate,” Darla said. “If I relocate.”
“If?” Gil blinked back at Darla. “You have to. Somerset Lake needs you.”
“Not as bad as they need a parking lot, apparently.”
* * *
At five o’clock, Moira signed off the dispatch and headed into her bedroom with intention. There was a town hall meeting tonight, and she planned to be there. Her mom should be attending as well. It was her bakery after all. Her livelihood.
Moira stepped into the bathroom and brushed her hair into place. She wasn’t one to wear a lot of makeup, but she was addressing a room full of people tonight. She wanted to look and feel her best. She also wanted her mom to come with her. When Moira had called to ask Darla earlier in the week, Darla had made excuses. That’s why Moira was heading over to her parents’ house right now to make a convincing argument that her mother couldn’t resist.
After a short drive, Moira pulled into the driveway of the home she’d grown up in. She’d spent half her childhood here in this ranch-style brick house and the other half in Sweetie’s. They were both a part of her. Even though she’d grown up here, Moira rang the doorbell like any other guest. After high school and moving into her own place, she’d learned her lesson about not stepping inside unannounced. Her parents took advantage of their empty nest in ways Moira wished she never knew about.
“Oh, Moira. This is a nice surprise,” Darla said as she opened the door wider. “I thought you had something else to do tonight.”