Page 18 of The Good Luck Cafe
Moira tried not to cry. “It’s true then? You’re kicking her out of the building she’s been in for nearly three decades? How can you do that?”
Gil held up a hand, his gaze darting around the room to see who was watching.
Moira didn’t care who was overhearing this. Maybe the people of this town should know what their beloved mayor was planning. “This is wrong, Gil.”
“Let’s sit down, okay?” His voice was low in contrast to hers. “I’ll explain.”
Moira shook her head. “I need to find my mom.” She stepped past him, feeling him turn and follow. “Stop following me, Gil,” she warned.
She felt him step out of the bakery and stop on the sidewalk behind her. “Moira?” he called after her.
She stopped walking and turned to look at him, hoping he wasn’t close enough to see the tears in her eyes. She waited for him to say whatever it was he thought would make this right.
He didn’t say anything though. Instead he looked at her before dropping his head.
Disappointment settled over her. Some part of her had hoped he’d have something that could make this all better. Her mother had to be devastated right now.
Moira turned and kept walking to her car parked alongside the road. She got inside and released a breath as tears clouded her vision. She blinked them away as she pulled out her phone and texted her mom.
Moira:Where are you? I need to see you.
She waited for her mom to respond, but she didn’t.
Moira:Mom? Are you okay?
No response.
Moira wiped at her eyes. When she was able to see clearly, she pulled onto the road and started driving. There were a handful of places her mom might be. She would check them all, one by one, until she found her. Then she’d make sure her mom knew that Moira wasn’t going to let this happen. Over her dead body would Sweetie’s Bakeshop be shut down.
Chapter Six
Gil crossed the lawn between his home and his parents’ house and headed up the porch steps of his childhood home. Even though he lived just next door, he didn’t walk over on a daily basis. He needed his mom’s clear head and her glass-half-full perspective on life this evening though.
He rang the doorbell and watched the lake while he waited. There was a sailboat out there, which made him long to put his own boat out on the water. The wind wasn’t ideal though for sailing. If anyone asked him, the pontoon was a better choice for evening boat rides.
The door opened, and his mom furrowed her brow. “I’ve told you a million times, this is your home. You don’t have to ring the doorbell.”
Gil tipped his head across the lawn. “My home is over there now. Idoneed to ring the doorbell.”
His mother shook her head and tugged him toward her in a huge hug. One might have thought Gil had been away for a year the way she seemed to struggle to let go of the embrace. “You’re staying for dinner?” she asked when she finally pulled away.
Gil had to roll his shoulders out after she’d squeezed the life out of him. “If you’ll have me.”
She nodded. “Of course. Your father is working late at the firm, so you can eat his portion.” She winked and turned to lead Gil into the kitchen.
“He’ll want some leftovers when he gets home,” Gil warned.
“Well, that’s what he gets for working long hours. I’ve been telling him it’s time to cut back.”
Gil chuckled as he took a seat at a stool along his mom’s counter. “He loves being in a courtroom. He’ll never do that.” Gil hadn’t loved practicing law though. He’d followed in his dad’s footsteps and had gotten his law degree, which he’d used for only a couple of years to work at his dad’s firm. He wasn’t a lawyer at heart though. He was a public servant, a mayor, and he wanted to remain in office.
“You’re here because of Denise Berger’s decision to run against you?” his mom asked, stepping up to the stove to stir a large pot of food. Whatever she had cooking, it smelled delicious.
“How’d you know about that already?” Gil asked.
She looked at him over her shoulder. “I have my sources.”
Gil’s mom was good friends with Reva. She always had been. They took walks around the lake together and were part of a women’s bunco group. Sometimes Gil wished he were a fly on the wall for those meetings. At other times, he thought the less gossip he heard, the better off he was.
