“And? Do you feel better?”
Moira nodded. “A little, I guess. Maybe someone came along and helped her before things got too bad, the way you did for me.”
“I hope so,” Gil said quietly. “I guess we’ll never know.”
Moira frowned. “That’s the hardest part of what I do. Sometimes there’s no closure. Sometimes I can’t help a person the way I want to.”
Gil reached for her hand and squeezed. “But sometimes you can.”
“And that keeps me going, call after call.” Moira smiled, but it wasn’t quite reaching her eyes. “This has been a great date. Sorry for having a little bit of an ulterior motive.”
Gil chuckled. “I don’t mind. Thanks for telling me though. I’m glad you feel comfortable talking to me about it.”
Moira picked up another truffle. “You can’t tell anyone. Keeping the number of a caller in my phone is about the equivalent of leaving the dispatch to go to a caller’s house. Ronnie definitely wouldn’t be giving me any awards this time. I’d most likely be looking for a new job.”
“Well, you’re already gunning for my job. I guess you’d just have to up the ante.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That assumes that I’m not already going in full ante for the mayor’s position.”
Gil shook his head. “I’m not assuming anything. I want you to go after this with everything you have, if this is truly what you want.”
Moira gave him a strange look. “I wouldn’t run if it wasn’t.”
Gil hesitated. This date was going well to this point. He didn’t want to mess it up. “I wanted to be a mayor for years before I actually decided to run, you know. There were baby steps I took that led me to taking the office. You said you didn’t make rash decisions.” He licked his bottom lip, tasting the chocolate there. “I think that’s a good thing in some cases, like running for public office.”
“What are you trying to say?” she asked.
“You should just know what you’re getting into.”
“I do.” Moira averted her gaze.
Gil could feel an invisible wall going up. “Great. How about this? No more talking about jobs or politics or running against each other for the rest of this date. Let’s just focus on us.”
Moira turned her attention back to him, a small smile growing at the corners of her lips. “I think that’s a great suggestion. Deal.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
After breakfast with Tess and Lucy, Moira headed up to the counter to tell her mom goodbye and get a refill on her coffee.
“Can I see you in the back?” Darla asked. She looked serious this morning, like there was something weighing on her mind.
“Sure.” Moira headed around the counter and followed Darla into the back room. It was the weekend, so Darla had Bailey working the counter. “Is something wrong, Mom?”
Darla sat down at the little table that she had set up and waited for Moira to do the same. Once Moira was seated, Darla took a breath and narrowed her gaze on Moira. “I need to be honest with you, and I need you to hear me.”
“I’m listening.” Moira’s heart was thudding in her chest. Her mom was usually so cheerful and laid-back. She didn’t often get so serious or look so troubled. Whatever her mom was about to say was important.
“Moira, I opened this bakery nearly thirty years ago. You were just a little baby at the time. It was hard, and I am so proud of this place.”
“As you should be, Mom,” Moira said.
“Some part of me always thought you’d take over one day, but it’s not your path, and I would never force my dream on you. You have a life, and I am so amazed by who you’ve become. Who you’re still becoming. You save lives, Moira.”
Moira shifted uncomfortably in the small metal chair. “Not exactly, but thank you for understanding, Mom.” Moira had never wanted to work at her mom’s business. She didn’t even enjoy baking.
“Moira, I’ve broached this with you a couple of times, but I don’t think you’ve heard me. I know this bakery is like a second home to you. You said your first word in this building. You learned to crawl and then walk here. And don’t think I’m not keen on the fact that this place is where you had your first kiss when you were fourteen.”
Moira’s mouth fell open.
“Peter Blake,” Darla said with the faintest hint of a smile. “I had a talk with that boy at this very table the next day.”
Moira gasped. “You didn’t.”
Darla laughed quietly. “I did. What I’m trying to say is, this bakery is special. It harbors memories that I hold dear.”
Moira reached for her mom’s hand. “Mom, I’m not giving up on saving this place. That’s why I’m running for mayor.”
Darla’s smile dropped. “I was worried that was the case.”
Moira shook her head. “What do you mean by that?”
“Moira, this bakery can’t be your why for running for town mayor. Helping me can’t be your why. Moira, the truth is, I don’t want to save this bakery.”
“What?” Moira sat up straighter. “Of course you do. Like you just said, this place is special. It’s home.”
“I’m ready to retire, Moira. I don’t wake up eager to get to this place anymore. I watch the clock when I’m here because I want to be home where your father is. He almost died a few years ago. We have a second chance, and I don’t want to waste it working behind a counter. I want to do the things we always said we would.” She forced a smile.
Moira’s dad was enjoying his retirement so much. Moira knew that. “You could hire more staff and work less hours.”
“I could, and I’ve considered that option. But part of me feels like, when the doors are open, I need to be here interacting with the customers. I honestly think Sweetie’s Bakeshop will go downhill if I delegate what I’ve always done to staff who aren’t as invested in this place. I don’t really want to see that happen. Sometimes it’s best to go out on top.”
“Mom, you don’t really believe that.”
Darla gave her a pointed, serious look. She didn’t blink, didn’t shift or fidget. “I do, and I want you to hear this. Really hear it, Moira. The parking lot is necessary, and it should be here. I’m ready to move on to something new, like your father. If your why for running for mayor is this bakery, then it’s misplaced.”
* * *
Gil walked outside onto his back deck and sat in one of the wooden Adirondack chairs. Goldie quickly joined him, pushing her head beneath his hand to force him to pet her. Gil absently obliged while his mind retraced his evening with Moira the other night.
“Hey, Gilly.”
Gil blinked the blurry image of the lake back into view and turned toward Doug, who was heading across the lawn. He was wearing a VOTE GIL RYAN FOR MAYOR T-shirt in a dark gray color this time. “Hey, buddy. How are you?”
“You made Reva’s blog again.”
Gil chuckled. “I know. I’m dating the competition. That’s big news.”