Page 9 of The Good Luck Cafe
Moira nodded. “Doug seemed a little upset that I asked why you didn’t answer your phone when he called today. I think he thought I was suggesting he needed supervision.”
Gil let out a sigh. “Doug has accused my parents of being overprotective of him lately. Me, too, I guess. He’s probably right. It’s not because he has Down syndrome. Doug is also the youngest kid—my mom’s baby and my younger brother.”
“Nothing wrong with being independent,” Moira said. “In fact, I admire that quality.”
Gil watched her. “I’ve always considered you to be fairly independent yourself.” He thought he saw offense settle on her features. “In a good way. You like to do things by yourself and in your own way.” And at times, Gil had noted that she resented someone trying to step in and offer her a hand. Or maybe it was just him she resented.
“Is that why you hired Doug to be your campaign manager? To give him more independence?”
Gil shook his head quickly. “No way. Doug could have had any number of jobs about here. Your mom offered him one at Sweetie’s as a matter of fact.”
Moira’s lips parted. “She didn’t tell me that.”
Gil lifted a shoulder. “Well, I snagged him first. He’s a hard worker, and he understands what makes people smile. He’s not afraid to tell me what I’m doing wrong either. And he believes in me more than anyone. He was the best guy for the job. Still is.”
Something changed about the way Moira was looking at him. He wasn’t sure what she was thinking, but whatever it was, he didn’t think it was a bad thing. After a second, she looked away. “Well, thanks for stopping by. I need to get dinner started.”
“Dinner for one?” he asked, immediately wanting to kick himself. He was so hopeless.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Yeah. Me too. Well, one plus Goldie. Maybe Doug, too, if he doesn’t like what my mom is cooking.”
She nodded wordlessly, fidgeting with her hands in front of her. He thought she looked nervous and wondered if he was the reason.
“Well, have a good evening, Moira.”
“You too,” she said quietly, still looking at him in a way he’d never seen from her before. Her cheeks were flushed too.
Turning, he headed down her porch steps, hearing the door close behind him. Whatever had softened in Moira’s eyes would return to disdain once she found out how the town council had voted today. It was nine against three, and mayor or not, he couldn’t overrule the majority.
Gil got into his truck and drove home. When he unlocked and opened the door, he came face-to-face with Goldie, who seemed to be giving him the stink eye. He was getting home later than usual, but it couldn’t be helped.I’ll make it up to you, girl.Goldie was good-natured and upset for only a moment. Then she broke into happy tail wagging and charged forward to greet him, stopping short to sniff around his legs.
“You remember Moira, right?” he asked, feeling like he’d cheated on his dog somehow. “Don’t worry, Goldie. You’re the only girl I love.” After a full minute of petting his dog, he headed into the kitchen for a glass of water, his thoughts retracing today’s three run-ins with Moira. Even though she’d seemed to let her guard down around him on the last visit, he wouldn’t be winning any votes from her this coming election. Not after she got the news about her mother’s business being evicted from Hannigan Street.
His stomach clenched. He’d never been one for popularity contests, which is what running for office felt like. He wanted a second term though. He thought he’d done a lot of good for the town since he’d been elected to office, and there was still more he wanted to do. It was time to start making a concerted effort to secure votes for reelection this fall.
The doorbell rang, and Goldie took off in that direction. Gil set his glass of water down and walked over to open the door.
“Hi, Gilly.” Doug was wearing his usual ball cap that readVOTE GIL RYAN FOR MAYORin large block font.
“Hey, buddy.” Gil looked down at Doug’s foot. “How’s the ankle feeling?”
“All better. Mom wrapped it and gave me some ibuprofen.”
“Ah. I should have thought of that.”
Doug shrugged. “You’re not as smart as Mom is,” he teased.
Gil shook his head and chuckled. “True enough. Do you think the water will be good for a boat ride tonight?”
“The lake is calm,” Doug said with a nod.
“What do you say? Want to come out with me? An evening ride sounds like just what the doctor ordered.”
Doug adjusted his hat. “Sure. We need to discuss how to make other people like you.”
Gil grabbed his own ball cap from the hook by the door and put it on. “I suppose we can do that on the boat. You think there are folks out there who don’t like me?”
