“I want to go,” Doug said.
“Okay then.”
“I’ve got to shower and change clothes,” Doug told him, standing suddenly.
“Sure. Meet me back here in forty-five minutes?”
“Okay, Gilly.” Doug walked down the steps, taking them slowly. Gil wasn’t sure, but he thought Doug’s ankle injury from the other day was still bothering him. Goldie ran over to Doug’s side, matching his pace and following him next door.
Gil guessed he needed to get ready too. How did one dress when they were preparing to let down one of the people they admired most? He kind of felt like putting on his best funeral suit, because that’s how he felt walking into tonight’s meeting.
Standing, he walked into the house, opened the fridge, and reached for a cold bottled water. He twisted off the cap and drank half in one long gulp. Then he set the bottle on his kitchen island and continued walking toward his bedroom. Tonight wasn’t going to be pretty. He just wanted to get it over with. Or skip it altogether, but as the mayor, he couldn’t do that.
He changed into a short-sleeved shirt with a pair of jeans and brown leather boots. To give the jeans a more formal look, he pulled on a navy linen sports coat. He combed his hair, brushed his teeth, and then stepped back onto his deck to sit in his Adirondack chair and wait for Doug.
Goldie walked up to him and pressed her nose into his palm. He rubbed her head and scratched behind her ears, telling her, “At least I have one female in my life who’ll love me after tonight.”
* * *
The town hall was a full house. Great. Gil had hoped for scarce attendance tonight. He was also hoping somehow Moira wouldn’t actually show up. He should have known better though. Moira was strong-willed. Independent. If someone told her what to do, she dug her heels in harder to do the opposite.
He liked those qualities of Moira’s. Once, in third grade, their teacher had told Moira to take off her coat because it wasn’t cold in the building, and Moira had zipped her jacket up and told the teacher she didn’t want to. Even though it was hot, she’d kept it on all day just to prove a point—she couldn’t be forced. Being drugged by Felix must have hit Moira hard. Knowing what might have happened probably devastated her all those years ago.
Gil looked around the town hall from his seat onstage, spotting Moira in one of the middle rows. She waved when he looked in her direction. Gil waved back, stricken by mixed emotions. They’d made progress toward rebuilding their friendship the other night, and more than anything, he wanted to be friends with Moira. If he went against her tonight, that wouldn’t happen.
Gil swallowed hard.
“Hey, Gil.” Jake stepped onto the stage with him. Jake had joined the town council this past year. He followed Gil’s gaze. “Could you be any more obvious, man? I thought you were over Moira.”
“I am,” Gil said. “I was just waving at her.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.” Jake chuckled. “Looks like there’s a lot of interest in town talk tonight. I even see Reva here.”
Gil glanced toward the blogger. “She’s always here.”
“Moira doesn’t always attend though. I assume she’s here about her mom’s bakery?” Jake asked.
Gil nodded. “Yeah.”
“And I assume you’re going to back her up.”
Gil turned to look at Jake, dread hanging heavy in his gut. “No.”
* * *
Moira didn’t often find herself nervous, but right now, she kept having to remind herself to breathe. Her palms felt slick as she rubbed them against the thighs of her black pants. She knew everyone in this room, and as far as she was aware, everyone here loved Sweetie’s Bakeshop. They’d stand behind her. She’d be fine. All she had to do was speak what was in her heart. It didn’t hurt that Gil was the town’s mayor, and he was on her side. Wasn’t that what he’d said last night? That he wasn’t done looking for alternative locations for the parking lot?
Moira was barely listening as the first community member took their turn at the mic. The woman was saying something about a neighbor’s free-range chickens going into her yard and taunting her fenced-in dogs.
“I don’t let my shepherds run around free range in the neighborhood. Why does she get to keep her chickens loose?” Mary Edwards wanted to know.
The neighbor in question made loud comments from across the room.
Mary turned to her neighbor. “It’s rude and inconsiderate.”
“You’re rude and inconsiderate!” the neighbor yelled back.
Then they started arguing in front of everyone. Moira’s gaze slid over to Reva, who was tapping away on her laptop.
“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” Tess slid into the seat that Moira had saved for her best friend. “What’d I miss?”
Moira was so relieved that Tess had made it that she wanted to throw her arms around Tess and hug her. Moira wasn’t much of a hugger though. Instead, she fidgeted nervously with the strap of her purse. “Free-range chickens that poop all over Mary’s lawn. I haven’t gotten a chance to speak yet.”
Tess reached for her hand. “You can do this.”
Moira nodded. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Of course.” Tess glanced at the other seat beside Moira, where Darla was not sitting.
“Your mom didn’t come?”
Moira shook her head. “Long story that I don’t want to get into right now. I’ll tell you over coffee tomorrow.” Which they would have at Sweetie’s like they normally did. If there was a parking lot in Sweetie’s spot, where would they go?
“Thank you for those very valid concerns, Mary,” Gil said, speaking into his microphone. He and several town council members were seated behind a long table on the stage upfront. “Who would like to talk next?”
Tess elbowed Moira. “Go for it.”
Moira sucked in a breath, but it didn’t seem to calm her nerves. Standing on shaky legs, she walked up to the microphone that was set up at the end of the aisle between rows of chairs. “I would like to talk,” she said, pinning her gaze to Gil’s. Her heart fluttered around nervously, and this time, it wasn’t because of public speaking or the topic at hand. It was because of Gil. She swallowed past a tight throat.
“Go ahead, Miss Green,” Gil said, addressing her more formally than he usually would. The other night on his boat, he’d promised to do whatever he could to support her. If he was on her side, she couldn’t go wrong.
“Um, hi, everyone.” Moira licked her lips, moistening them. Her throat was dry, too, and she wished she’d had the forethought to bring a bottled water. “I’m here because of the town council’s proposal to demolish Sweetie’s Bakeshop and put a parking lot for Hannigan Street there instead.”
Several loud gasps filled the room. The decision wasn’t public knowledge among the townspeople yet. That was one reason Moira wanted to be here tonight. She wanted to get ahead of the decision and reverse it. “Sweetie’s Bakeshop is one of the staples of Hannigan Street. Small businesses are crucial to towns like ours, and while parking is an issue, I can’t envision Hannigan Street or Somerset Lake without my mother’s bakery. Not just because the business belongs to my family, but because that’s where I grew up going after school. That’s where I still go to meet up with people. Sweetie’s Bakeshop is like a family member or friend in and of itself, and we stand up for our family and friends. We need to stand up for Sweetie’s Bakeshop too. If we don’t, what’s next?” Moira looked at Gil, but he wasn’t watching her. Instead, he had his head lowered, and he was staring at his clasped hands. That’s weird.