“Because someone else took her home before me.” Moira picked another piece of bagel off. “Is this what happened with you and River? Did you start contemplating getting a dog all of a sudden?”
Tess chuckled. “Actually, yes. But River’s dog is enough canine for me. I’m considering getting a cat for the bookshop though.”
“Oh, fun.” Moira finally popped the piece of bread into her mouth and chewed. “Maybe you can turn the bookshop into part cat café.”
Tess pulled back and held up her hands. “That sounds like way too much work. I sell books, not coffee, tea, and pastries.”
“Right. My mom is actually working on a new hangout for Sweetie’s customers. Turns out the diner down the street lost a lot of its morning customers to the bakery, so it quit serving breakfast during the week.”
“Things always work out the way they’re supposed to.” Tess pushed back from the table. “I’ve got to go open the store. Lara has a dentist appointment this morning. Talk to you later?”
Moira nodded. “I have to get home for dispatch.”
“Maybe you’ll save another life, Miss Small-Town Hero,” Tess teased.
“Maybe so.” But she would most likely sit at her desk and doodle Gil’s name like she’d done the last several shifts.
* * *
On Thursday night, Moira stood in front of the mirror debating the third outfit she’d tried on for tonight. For the first time since she’d had the flu three years ago, Moira was skipping book club. There was a town council meeting scheduled and, even though she wasn’t officially on the council, as someone running for mayor she had been invited to attend.
The doorbell rang and Moira hurried to answer it. Gil had offered to pick her up and ride together. Now that the cat was out of the bag about their relationship, this was awkward. But also wonderful.
She opened the door and beamed at him. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he said, his gaze dropping to what she was wearing. She’d chosen a pair of black pants and a sapphire blue blouse that was equal parts dressy and casual. “You look like mayor material.”
Moira tilted her head. “So do you,” she said, noting his dark gray pants and yellow polo shirt. She stepped out onto the porch and locked the door behind her, gaze snagging on the dent in her door. She doubted she’d ever get rid of that. Turning back to Gil, she asked, “Does Denise Berger go to these meetings?”
“She has in the past. It’s not usually her scene though. If she’s not in charge, she doesn’t want to be there. That’s my guess, at least.”
Moira nodded as they walked. “To be honest, I’m a little nervous. Some part of me feels like I don’t belong at one of these meetings.”
Gil opened her truck door for her. “That’s called impostor syndrome. I’ve been mayor for three years now, and I still have it sometimes.” He closed the door behind her.
Impostor syndrome. Moira had heard of that before. Was that what she was feeling? She pulled her seat belt across her and turned to Gil as he got behind the wheel. “You don’t have to be my boyfriend when we’re at the meeting, you know?”
This made Gil smile. “So I’m your boyfriend when we’re not at the meeting?” he asked, cranking the truck’s engine.
“No.” She shook her head. “No, I didn’t say that.” She rolled her lips together. “Are you…saying that?”
Gil chuckled and reversed the truck out of the driveway. “It feels like we’re in high school again. The whole are we, aren’t we thing. Do you remember that?”
Moira laughed quietly. “I wasn’t much for dating in high school, so I don’t really recall anything like that. Not for me, at least. I remember friends agonizing over stuff like that though.”
“Grade school dating was easier. You just asked a girl to be your girlfriend, and she said yes or no.”
Moira held her tongue for a moment, tuning in to the faint sound of music streaming through Gil’s radio. It was some kind of soft rock.
He slid his gaze over. “So?”
“So?” she repeated.
“Are we?”
Moira considered the question. “Tell me, what does being your girlfriend entail exactly?”
Gil pulled up to a stop sign and looked both ways. Then he looked at her for a long moment. “Hmm. Let’s see. It entails allowing me to call you, visit you, bring you flowers whenever I choose, and try to make you laugh as often as I can. Also accepting compliments from me, having me check on you, and bring you soup when you’re sick.”
Moira laughed a little louder now. “Gee. What’s in it for me?” she asked sarcastically.
Gil looked over with a serious expression. Then he continued driving. “Just my heart. That’s all.”
* * *
Doug was right. Town council meetings were typically pretty boring. Gil guessed that could be said about most meetings for anything. They had an agenda, and the same things were on it every time they met. That meant that they pretty much held the same conversations about the same items every time and kicked the topics they couldn’t agree on down the road to the next meeting.
That wasn’t true for the important stuff, of course. That stuff got handled right away. It was the menial stuff, like putting up an extra sign on the town green reminding folks to pick up after their pets. Or getting more volunteers for the school’s career day this spring.
“Well, if that’s all,” Gil said, bringing the meeting to a close the way he normally did.
“Actually…” Moira raised a hand. She’d been mostly quiet during tonight’s meeting. “I wanted to bring up a topic for the town to consider.”
“Okay.” Gil offered an encouraging smile. “Go ahead.”
“Well, this has to do with the rock throwers.” Moira looked around the long rectangular table where they were all seated. “I’m concerned that the culprits are a bunch of teenagers looking for a little fun. Frankly, if that’s the case, I can’t really blame them. There’s not a whole lot around here for the younger crowd to do.”
“There’s the lake,” another member, Bob Reynolds, said.
“Well, yes, but the kids would be waterlogged if they spent all their free time at Somerset Lake,” Moira shot back with equal parts directness and politeness.
“The youth center,” Denise Berger said. She’d shown up after all, and she’d done her best to control the narrative for every topic so far.
“Younger kids like the youth center, sure, but the older ones usually stop going. I mean, they’re so bored that they’re throwing rocks at doors. It sounds harmless, but someone could really get hurt. I think it would cut down on teens getting themselves into trouble if they had a place to go. We adults have our places, right? Sweetie’s is mine.” Moira looked down for a moment. Gil knew she was regretting that soon her place would be leveled and paved into a parking lot. Looking back up, she forced a smile. “So I wanted to suggest that we start considering creating a hangout for the teens.”
“What kind of place are you suggesting?” Denise asked, practically looking down her nose at Moira.