The Christmas Campaign. Patricia Bradley

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his attention back to Clint. “I thought you were the director of the Boys and Girls Club in Memphis.”

      He shook his head. “I’ve taken over the farm since Dad decided to retire, and he and Mom hit the open road.”

      “You’re kidding.” Why had he not heard about this before now? “Will you still be in town this afternoon? I’d like to pick your brain about something.”

      “I have an appointment, but I’m free later in the week.”

      “Sounds good. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Peter paid for the drinks and took them to the table where Betty waited.

      She scooped a spoonful of foam off the top, tasted it and closed her eyes. “Now, that’s good.” Then she looked at him. “So, what do you want to put on the schedule?”

      “I’m not sure. I’d like to hold a dance for teens New Year’s Eve. What do I need to do?”

      “Apply for a permit tonight at the city council meeting. Where do you plan to have it?”

      “In a building my grandfather owned. It’s part of the estate now.”

      Betty sipped her latte. “Is it the same building Jake plans to use for a senior center?”

      Peter nodded. So Jake had finished his proposal, and he would have left a copy of it with Betty. “Any chance I can look over his paperwork?”

      She eyed him over her glasses, her green eyes boring into him.

      “I’ll wait until tonight.”

      “I think that’d be a good idea. So, do you want me to put your request for a permit on the docket?”

      “Yeah, and I want to submit a proposal for a teen recreational center.”

      “Got it.” She took another sip of her latte. “Don’t you two ever get tired of competing against each other?”

      He’d like to explain that this time, it wasn’t his idea. Instead he said, “My grandfather always said iron sharpens iron.”

      “Just don’t get the mayor all wrangled up in your deal—he hasn’t been feeling that well.” She hesitated, pressing her lips together. “That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

      Peter resisted checking his watch while he waited for her to continue.

      “I don’t think Hugh is going to run for office when the election rolls around.”

      “Oh?” He didn’t know what that had to do with him.

      “In fact, I know he wouldn’t if you would agree to run.”

      “Me?”

      “Yes, you. You’d make an excellent mayor.”

      Him, mayor? He’d never considered the possibility before.

      “I see I’ve taken you by surprise, but I wish you would think about it. I really don’t want Hugh to run, but he will unless someone he admires steps forward.”

      “You’re serious. But why me?”

      “You have all the qualifications. First of all, you’re electable. Everyone knows the Elliott name. And with a master’s degree, you’re well qualified, and your work in Washington, DC, speaks for itself. And here—you’ve done an excellent job with Social Services and getting the children’s shelter set up here. And then there’s your council seat. In fact, I’m surprised you haven’t thought about it yourself.”

      Now that the shock had worn off, he had to admit the job appealed to him. “I’ll think about it.”

      She squeezed his arm. “Good. Now go get Hugh’s coffee. I have to get back to work.”

      Peter saluted and did as he was told.

      A few minutes later, he handed the mayor his coffee. “Sorry it isn’t what you ordered, but I was with Betty.”

      Hugh Gordon sighed. “That woman will be the death of me. It isn’t enough that she runs this office, now she’s telling me what I can drink.”

      “She’s worried about you.” Judging by his pallor, Betty had good reason to be worried. And the mayor could stand to lose a few pounds. Peter considered telling Hugh about their conversation regarding the election, but in the end, he simply said, “It’s Kona-blend.”

      “That’s a plus.” Hugh took the top off and sipped the still-steaming coffee. “Now, what can I do for you?”

      Peter hesitated, remembering Betty’s admonition. Better that he be prepared for tonight. “I want to start a youth recreational center in a building my grandfather owned.”

      “I suppose it’s the same building your cousin wants to put a senior center in.”

      Jake was going to give him a run for his money. Peter nodded. “Can I count on your vote?”

      “Same thing he asked.”

      “What’d you tell him?”

      “At the time, I didn’t know you were going to be submitting a proposal in opposition to him, so I said yes, and I’ll give you my support, as well. But if you’re looking for funding, only one of you might receive it. Money’s tight, and there’s no guarantee either of the projects will be funded, though both do seem worthwhile.”

      Peter should have realized Jake was on his way to see the mayor when he left Betty’s office. “Thanks. I’ll see you tonight.”

      * * *

      AT THE LAST MINUTE, Nicole had to call her mother to cover for her at the office after an expected shipment of lumber failed to arrive before noon. She paused just outside the front door of Norma Jean’s to collect herself.

      If only she could lie. Really? But she couldn’t, not to her mother, anyway, not even little white lies about the person she was having lunch with. As soon as Joyce Montgomery discovered Nicole was meeting Jake for lunch, she would be off and running, practically planning an engagement party.

      Not even if South Missi— Nicole broke the thought off. That’s what got her into trouble in the first place. She’d had no intention of accepting Jake’s lunch offer, but when he used that phrase, her mouth said yes even as her brain said no.

      She straightened her shoulders and pushed the door open. Might as well get it over with. Besides, he’d only asked her in order to get her help. Keep that in mind. She scanned the room and spotted him in a corner booth, talking to one of the waitresses.

      Nicole walked toward the booth, dodging harried servers and catching snatches of conversation. Not even noon yet, and Norma Jean’s was booming. Yet their waitress had time to stand and talk to Jake with a dreamy look on her face.

      The man was too good-looking for his own good. When he came into the office this morning, she’d almost dropped the ornament in her hand. And then all that blarney about how she looked—he was probably

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