Page 38 of The Good Luck Cafe
“It” meaning a run for office. No, Moira was all for keeping things fresh, but she was a dispatcher. She had no experience in politics. She couldn’t just up and decide to run for mayor—against Gil.
***
After excusing herself and wishing the ladies a good day, Moira headed out of the bakery and toward her car. It was a long way to walk if there were no spots at the curb, like today. And when folks parked along the curb, it made driving down Hannigan Street a tight squeeze. Moira looked around for alternative locations for a parking lot—there was nothing—and thought about what the women had said, as she made the hike to her Hyundai.
Moira for Mayor? Vi and Reva had to be joking. Only, they’d seemed serious. She couldn’t run against Gil though. Could she?
The idea continued to percolate as she sat through her shift. There were five calls to the dispatch, which made it a busy day. Only two were actual emergencies, however. The first emergency involved a minor fender bender. The other one was a caller reporting that Mr. S was sunbathing in the nude down on the lakeshore outside the Somerset Rental Cottages again. Instead of calling the sheriff’s department, Moira dialed Trisha.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Trisha. It’s Moira calling from the dispatch.”
Trisha groaned. “Not again.”
“Afraid so,” Moira confirmed.
Trisha audibly sighed. “I’ll handle it.”
“Thanks. See you at book club tonight?” Moira asked.
“Looking forward to it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a tenant to throw a towel over and send home.”
Moira laughed. “I choose my job over yours.”
Trisha laughed as well. “Right about now, I’d choose your job too. I have an entire cottage to clean up today. Louise Herman lived there for twenty-plus years, and I don’t think spring cleaning was ever on her to-do list.”
“That sounds like a lot of work for you while you’re pregnant. Do you need help?” Moira asked. “I could come by after my shift one day.”
“No, but thanks. Della has already offered. I have the best friends ever.”
“Same here,” Moira said. “Good luck.”
“With the cleaning or Mr. S?” Trisha asked.
“Both.”
They said goodbye, and then Moira stood from her desk and stretched her arms up in the air. She hadn’t yet read Reva’s blog, so she hesitantly decided to take a peek. Moira tapped a finger over her screen and pulled it up, glancing at the first bullet point. Jana was having a fudge sale. Moira would have to stop in this week and get some. She kept reading.
Have you heard? Denise Berger is running against our very own Mayor Gil this year. Hearsay is an announcement is coming soon!
The news left Moira feeling a little disappointed. She could do better than Denise. Maybe Moira didn’t have any political experience, but she had years of experience in public service. She knew the sheriff’s and fire departments and the medical services, and she had connections with all the small businesses in Somerset Lake because of her mom’s bakery. Denise Berger was a local accountant. She probably had connections, but Moira doubted she had a servant’s heart, which was what a mayor needed. Gil had that. He wasn’t looking out for Sweetie’s though.
Moira refocused on the blog and read the last bullet point of the day.
This weekend is the Spring into Somerset Festival. Hearsay is Mayor Gil is presenting an award to one of our own. You know I can’t keep a secret. If I knew whoit was, I’d tellyou all. I sure hope it’s not someone from the Green family though—they might just toss that award right back at him.
Moira cringed. She didn’t plan to chuck the award at Gil. She was better than that. Even if he deserved it.
Chapter Twelve
Gil was wearing his smile like the worn jeans and loose T-shirt he had on tonight. The smile covered the fact that he wasn’t listening to a word the guys at the table were saying right now. When they laughed, he laughed. When they groaned, he groaned. Otherwise, his thoughts were on the crummy day he’d just had.
Days like this made him reconsider running for another term as mayor. In the last twelve hours, he’d gotten a half dozen emails complaining about the issue with Sweetie’s Bakeshop and another half dozen calls about it. Not to mention the folks he’d run into today who’d frowned at him while bringing up the town hall meeting last night. Yeah, those people made up a small percentage of folks in Somerset Lake, but it still weighed on him.
“What do you think, Gilbert?” Jake elbowed Gil, and everyone focused their attention on him.
“Oh, uh…” Gil scratched the new growth of hair on his chin. “I haven’t really thought much about it,” he said, wondering what they were discussing.
