Falling for the Mum-to-Be. Lynne Marshall
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“That’s all I can ask.” For one quick moment, his everyday good looks stood out against the backdrop of the darkening sky and the deep river below; the fact that she noticed threw her for a second. She had absolutely no business enjoying his appearance, not in her condition.
His sharp whistle for the dogs snapped her out of the thoughts, and they headed back to the big lonely house on the hill that she could spot all the way across town from the memorial bench at Leif’s special park.
* * *
The next morning the town was buzzing with interest and maybe a little concern. What could merit a town meeting when they hadn’t had one since last year when their former mayor announced his early retirement? Leif considered that some of the businesspeople might wonder if the town was in debt or, worse yet, failing. He’d overheard another group whispering about the effects of the financial downturn on tourist towns such as theirs nationwide.
After introducing Marta to Lilly and Desi Rask, Gerda’s granddaughter, he planted her on the adjacent chair to Desi and headed to take his place on the podium with the rest of the committee. Marta was wearing the same black slacks and white blouse she’d worn the day she’d arrived. Looking at her from the podium, there was no way anyone could suspect she was pregnant. Both artists, Desi and Marta, appeared to chat easily while waiting for the event to begin. It made Leif happy to see her connect with new people. He worried he kept her locked up in his empty castle like Rapunzel or something.
Gerda, the mayor pro tem; Elke Norling, the town historian; Gunnar Norling, her brother and local police sergeant; Jarl Madsen from the Maritime Museum; Adamine Olsen, president of the Small Business Association; and Ben Cobowa, the only Native American of Chinook ancestry on the committee, all sat in a unifying row.
The interested crowd grew by the minute, and by ten o’clock, the appointed time for the meeting, the city college auditorium was packed to standing room only.
The mayor stepped to the microphone, her usual white bun twisted so tight, Leif wondered if it would give her a headache. She cleared her throat. “Thank you all for coming.” She waited for the chatter to die down, but it didn’t.
Gunnar, in his police uniform, stepped forward. “We’d like to get started,” he said loudly. “Let’s pipe down, okay?” He nudged Gerda back to the podium microphone as the auditorium grew quieter.
“We’ve called this town meeting to announce some rather startling news we’ve recently discovered.”
Her use of the word startling caused the few remaining talkers to go quiet.
“I know you’re all anxious to hear why we called everyone here today, so we’ll get right to the point. When we broke the ground for the college, Leif Andersen discovered an ancient trunk. The contents were priceless and we have spent the past several months making sure everything was authentic. Elke Norling has done a wonderful job, and we wanted to share the information with you.”
From there Gerda went on to tell the story of Captain Nathaniel Prince to the obvious disbelief of many in the crowd. Several times, Sgt. Norling had to ask the auditorium to pipe down again, and glancing around at the faces, Leif realized the magnitude of this disconcerting news about their beloved town roots.
Adamine Olsen then stood and explained how the local businesses could capitalize on this new information, that the allure of a one-time pirate outpost turned solid small town and sleepy little tourist attraction could be a boon for the local shops and restaurants.
Gerda stressed what mattered most was not how they’d begun but how they’d turned out, and there was nothing to be ashamed of.
Then came the questions of why they’d waited so long to come forth with this information. Gerda tried her best to explain that the committee had wanted to be completely sure about their findings before addressing the town. Leif was grateful she hadn’t included the fact he’d sat on his findings several months before bringing it to the town’s attention.
Everyone knew Gerda had only stepped in to the mayor position when the town needed a fill-in after their mayor had had a heart attack. She’d done so willingly. What they didn’t know was that almost immediately Gerda had gotten slapped with the crazy possibility of the pirate discovering what everyone knew as Heartlandia. The stress had made Gerda sick, but she’d struggled on and led the committee in an honorable way.
“We realize there must be hundreds of questions.” Gerda spoke over the grumbling. “And that’s why the Heartlandia Herald will be running a series of articles beginning this afternoon in a special edition and continuing through Saturday. We want to stress that it’s not how you begin that counts, but how you end up, and Heartlandia is still the wonderful place we’ve all known and loved all of our lives. None of that has changed. So please bear with us. This committee has worked hard to make the best of a troubling situation. If after the series of articles your questions are still unanswered, please feel free to submit any and all questions to the newspaper. We vow to answer each and every one personally as well as in the newspaper.
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