Moira stepped into the living room and turned to face her mom. “I do. I’m going to the town hall meeting, and I still want you to come with me. That’s why I’m here.”
Darla frowned and started walking toward the kitchen, where Moira could smell Italian herbs in the air. “I already told you, I have no interest in going to tonight’s meeting. I’ve never had any interest in politics, you know that. That was always you.”
Moira had dabbled in student government in high school. She’d never been the student body president or anything, but she’d been treasurer and she’d loved being involved during that time in her life. Growing up, she’d also taken an interest in local events and causes like saving the old oak tree on the lake when the town had wanted to chop it down. Moira had joined all the protests organized by her school, and she’d been part of the journalism club as well.
“Mom, this is about more than just being involved in politics. This is your business. Your livelihood. You need to speak up while there’s still time to change things. Bringing up this issue at tonight’s meeting will mean more coming from you.”
Darla kept her back to Moira and talked over her shoulder, tending to a pot on the stove. “Why? Nothing I say will change anyone’s mind. If the town thinks a parking lot would better serve Hannigan Street, who am I to argue?”
“You’re the business owner who’s going to be put out of business, that’s who!” Moira practically yelled.
Her mom finally turned to her. Her cheeks were a rosier shade of red, thanks to the heat from cooking. She sighed wearily as she wiped her hands on the apron tied at her waist. “Well, perhaps that’s for the best. Then I can join your father in retirement.”
Moira wanted to scream. Why was her mom just lying down and taking this? “Dad is ten years older than you, Mom. You’d be miserable if you retired, and you know it. What are you going to do, take up knitting?”
Her mom put her hands on her hips. “What’s wrong with knitting? Your grandmother loved knitting. Maybe I would too.”
Moira threw her hands up in the air. “Fine, if you won’t fight for Sweetie’s, I will.”
“Mo, do you really think that’s a good idea?”
“Yes, I do. And you should too.”
Her father walked into the room, skidding to a stop when he realized the tension in the room. He looked between Darla and Moira. “What’s going on?”
Moira gestured toward her mother. “I want Mom to come to the town hall meeting with me tonight and fight for Sweetie’s, and she’d rather spend the rest of her days knitting,” she said with exasperation.
“Knitting?” Her father furrowed his brows. “You don’t even like knitting,” he said to Darla.
“My point exactly.” Moira turned, talking to her mom over her shoulder as she walked out of the kitchen. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mom. I have somewhere important to be right now.”
Chapter Ten
“What’s wrong, Gilly?”
Gil looked up as Doug approached. Gil was sitting on his back deck watching the lake. This was one of his favorite views in all the world. At least the parts of the world he’d seen. The lake sparkled in different shades of blue depending on where the sun or moon sat in the sky. Tonight, the lake was a deep hue reflecting the moon’s beams.
Gil looked over at his little brother and shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong.”
Doug put his hands on his waist. “I can tell.”
Gil released a breath. “It’s just not always easy being mayor. That’s all.”
“Still running?” Doug asked.
“Yeah, I’m still running.” Gil watched Doug sit in the seat beside his.
“If you’re still running, I’m still your manager,” Doug said proudly.
Gil smiled gratefully. “Glad to hear it. I couldn’t do this without you, you know.”
“Yes, you could,” Doug said, his smile faltering for a moment.
“Well, maybe, but I wouldn’t want to.” Gil cleared his throat. “Doug, Darla mentioned to me that you were applying for a job at Sweetie’s.”
Doug glanced over. “Yes.”
“Why? You just said you wanted to stay on as my manager.”
“I can do both, Gilly,” Doug said without missing a beat. “I want to earn a living and move out.”
Gil wasn’t sure right now was the best time to get back into this conversation. “You sure you’re ready for that? Living on your own isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
Doug frowned. “Neither is living with Mom and Dad. Joey has his own place.” Joey was one of Doug’s friends from high school. He didn’t have Down syndrome but he had been in a lot of the same classes Doug had attended.
“That’s great for Joey.” Gil chose his words carefully. “How would you work at Sweetie’s? You don’t have a driver’s license.”
“Not yet.”
Gil nodded. “I see.”
“No, you don’t. You’re just like Mom. You don’t think I can drive or live alone.”
Gil pressed his lips together. “What about the other day? When you had an insulin issue and fell down?”
“I called nine-one-one,” Doug said, lifting his chin a notch. “The same thing I would have done if I lived on my own. The same thing you would have done for yourself.”
Doug had a point. Gil scratched the side of his face where his five-o’clock shadow was filling in. “I’m your brother, not your mom. It doesn’t matter if I think you’re ready to live on your own.”
Disappointment settled in the deep divot between Doug’s brows. “It matters to me. I want you to believe in me the way I’ve always believed in you.”
Gil held Doug’s gaze. “I do. I just…” He trailed off because he didn’t know his reasons for anything he was thinking about this issue. He just knew that his mom had asked him to discourage any talk of this kind from Doug. Surely she knew what was best. Right? “I’m not sure what to say right now, if you want to know the truth.”
“Say you’ll talk to Mom for me,” Doug said. “Please. She’ll listen to you.”
Gil closed his eyes and nodded. This was a sticky situation that he didn’t like being in the middle of. One of many sticky situations weighing on him tonight. He’d love nothing more than to take his boat out and unwind, but the town hall meeting was in an hour, and he guessed Moira was planning to speak. She would be expecting him to publicly support her.
“Gilly?” Doug said, reminding Gil he wasn’t alone.
Gil opened his eyes and looked over. His brother peered back through his round glasses. “Yeah?”
“Can I come with you tonight?”
“To the town hall?” Usually Doug stayed home. He didn’t like what he referred to as “boring” meetings.
Doug nodded. “Yes.”
“I guess. If you want. It’s not exactly fun though.”
“I’m your campaign manager. I should be there. It doesn’t have to be fun.”
Once again, Gil thought Doug looked defensive. “You’re right. A lot of things aren’t fun, but we do them anyway. I just meant, you don’t have to go, whereas I have no choice in the matter.”