Moira got into her car and pulled out her phone to check any messages she might have missed while she was inside with Beth. There were three. One from Tess.
Tess: Anything I can do for you?
Moira assumed she was talking about the campaign. She tapped out a quick reply.
Moira: Not right now. But thank you!
The second text was from Lucy.
Lucy: The nerve! Are you okay? Do you need me to come over and bring ice cream?
Moira furrowed her brow and reread that text before tapping out a response.
Moira: Why do I need ice cream therapy?
Moira didn’t wait for a response. She was ready to get home. She put her car into drive and pulled onto the road, hearing more text messages ping from her phone in the passenger seat. What was going on? Perhaps she should take Lucy up on the ice cream. That sounded nice, but not nearly as enticing as inviting Gil over. She’d prefer not to be covered in dog hair when she saw him—so a shower was in order—but she also couldn’t wait to see him and tell him all about her day with Beth and the dogs. And to kiss him. Dog kisses were great, but Gil kisses were preferable.
* * *
Gil glanced around the Somerset cottage that was available to rent, scrutinizing it for safety. It was a one-bedroom cottage with a bathroom, kitchen, and living area.
“Fully furnished,” his mom said, looking pleased. “That’s good. You won’t have to buy furniture.”
Doug had been quiet since stepping inside the tiny quarters.
Gil stepped up to him. “You okay? Having second thoughts?”
“No.” Doug smiled now. “I’m just shocked that this is happening. I’m going to move out and be on my own.”
“We’re just around the corner,” Gil reminded him. “A golf cart ride away.” Almost everyone here had golf carts and used them regularly to navigate around the lake.
Doug nodded. “I know. This is great. This place is perfect.”
Someone knocked on the door, and they all turned to see Trisha Fletcher standing on the porch. Trisha not only was the rental manager but also lived with Jake a couple of cottages down.
Gil gestured her in. “Hey, Trisha. Please don’t tell us this place has already been rented, because Doug just told us it’s perfect.”
Trisha clapped excitedly. “Oh, yay. I’m so glad to hear that. I think you’ll love living here, Doug. I know I do. Petey always loved to walk the dogs with Louise. He’s hoping you won’t mind if he goes along with you sometimes.” Petey was Trisha’s young son from a previous marriage.
“I won’t mind,” Doug said. “I like Petey.”
“Good. Anything I can help you with? Want me to give you a tour?”
His mom laughed. “Well, the place is fairly small. You can give us the tour without moving a foot.”
“Which is perfect for a single guy moving out for the first time,” Gil said, catching his mom’s eye. She was still having a hard time letting go, but he knew she was doing her best.
Gil’s cell phone pinged with a text message. He ignored it and continued looking around the cottage. Whoever was calling could wait. This time with Doug was important. As soon as the phone stopped buzzing, a message pinged. Then another.
“Aren’t you going to check it?” Doug asked, looking concerned.
His cell phone alerted him of a third message. “Fine. Let me see who it is.” Gil pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped on a message from Jake.
Jake: There’s an article you need to see. Sooner than later.
Gil: I’ll pass. I don’t care what anyone says about me in the media.
Jake: It’s not about you. It’s about Moira.
Gil stared at the text, wondering if Jake thought he should see it because it was bad for Gil because it shone a positive light on Moira. Or bad because it shone a negative light on Moira.
Another text came through. This one from Miles.
Miles: Why are politics so ruthless?
“Gil? You okay?” Doug asked.
Gil shook his head. “I’m not sure. I need to go though. Mom, can you finish touring the place with Doug?”
“Of course I can.” She wrapped her arm around Doug’s shoulders. “And I promise I won’t try to talk him out of this.”
“Thanks,” Gil said, stepping out of the cottage and onto the porch. He dialed Jake’s number as he hurried down the steps.
“I thought you’d be calling me,” Jake said as soon as he answered. “Have you seen it yet?”
“No. Where is it?”
“The Daily Gazette.”
The Daily Gazette was one of the bigger newspapers that served the western side of the state. Gil got into his truck. Before cranking the engine, he typed “the Daily Gazette” into a browser on his phone. “How bad is it?” he asked Jake, who was now on the speakerphone.
“For you, not bad at all. For Moira? Not great.”
Gil sighed. The article loaded onto the front page of the digital newspaper with the headline MAYORAL CANDIDATE WITH A PAST MIGHT NOT BE GOOD FOR SOMERSET’S FUTURE. Gil really didn’t want to read any further, but his eyes lowered just enough to see Felix’s name. “Thanks for alerting me to this, buddy. I need to go,” he said, turning the key and cranking the engine.
“I assume you’re heading to Moira’s house.”
“As fast as I can,” he said before disconnecting the call. Then he texted Moira.
Gil: I’m on my way. Be there in 10.
He waited a minute to see if she’d respond. When she didn’t, he put the truck in drive. Gil had been on the receiving end of bad press a few times in his career, for something stupid he’d said or done in his past. The past had a way of rearing its ugly head. Something told him this would devastate Moira though. She was a private person, just dipping her toe into the public spotlight. This was too much. How had this information been leaked?
Gil pulled up to a stop sign and glanced at his cell phone in his center console. She hadn’t responded to him. Maybe she hadn’t seen the article yet. That would be the best-case scenario. He didn’t want her to be alone when she saw it. If he could be by her side to support her and assure her that this would pass, maybe it wouldn’t sting as much.
He looked both ways. Seeing that the road was clear, he kept driving, pressing the gas pedal a little heavier than he probably should and going a few miles over the speed limit to get to Moira.
When he pulled into her driveway, her car was parked, and she was still sitting in the driver’s seat. Her forehead was lowered to the steering wheel and her body shook softly.
Oh no.
He was too late. Gil’s gut tied itself into knots. She’d already seen what was written about her, and by the looks of it, she was devastated.
* * *
Moira couldn’t move. She wasn’t even sure she was breathing right now. Or maybe she was breathing too much. Her head was spinning, and the world seemed to be falling away from underneath her.
She heard the vehicle pull in behind her, but she didn’t lift her head to see who it was. Maybe it was Lucy with the ice cream therapy she’d offered. Or Tess. Or Gil. She wasn’t sure whom she was hoping for. Maybe she just wanted to be alone or disappear, never to be seen again.