Patricia Bradley

The Christmas Campaign


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seemed to click into place. “And you need my help.”

      “No! I mean, yes.” If he’d known what a pretty woman she’d blossomed into, he’d have been there a long time ago.

      She checked her watch, and he quickly did the same and groaned. Nine thirty. He had an appointment with the mayor in thirty minutes. He’d wasted what little time he’d allotted for talking to her. “Would you have lunch with me today?”

      “No.”

      Jake regrouped. He hadn’t made a very good impression. He held up his hand. “Hang on for a minute.”

      He hurried out the door, turned around and came back in. “Hi, Nicole. I can’t believe we haven’t seen each other since high school. But I’d truly like to rectify that. Is there a snowball’s chance in South Mississippi that you’ll have lunch with me at Norma Jean’s?” He held out his hand.

      A strange look crossed her face, and then she swallowed and slipped her palm in his. “I, ah, well, since you put it that way, I guess so. Noon?”

      “How about eleven thirty? Would you like me to pick you up?”

      “No! I’ll meet you there.”

      “Great.” He started to leave and turned around. “You look really—”

      “Don’t mess it up O’Neil.”

      He grinned. “Well, you do.”

      Jake whistled as he drove across town to city hall. Getting Nicole Montgomery’s vote was going to be much more interesting than he’d thought. But something about her name didn’t seem right.

      He remembered now...it was G. Nicole Montgomery in the yearbook. He couldn’t remember what the G stood for, but given time, he’d find out.

      Jake pulled into a parking space in front of city hall, and grabbed the packet that contained copies of the senior center proposal for each city council member. He would leave them with Betty Atkins, the city clerk, when he added his name to the agenda for tonight’s meeting.

      Betty looked up as he entered her office and closed the door.

      “What can I do for you, Jake?”

      He handed her the envelope. “I’d like to appear before the city council tonight to request a permit for renovating a building on Washington Street and to submit a proposal for a senior center. I’ll also be asking for funding.”

      “I see. How much?” she asked.

      “Twenty-five thousand.”

      “You can’t run a center on twenty-five thousand dollars.”

      “That will just be the city’s part. I’ll come up with the rest. I’m going up to see Hugh now, and get his support.”

      “I’ll put you down.”

      “Thanks.” He turned to leave and she followed him.

      “I’m going after coffee. Care to join me?”

      “No, I told him I’d be there at ten, and it’s almost that time now.”

      * * *

      A CONFERENCE CALL about the children’s shelter kept Peter from getting to city hall when he wanted to, but at least he had a better understanding of what the inspector would be looking for next week. It was now nine forty-five as he took the stairs to the city clerk’s office two at a time.

      He’d managed to get by the city inspector’s office before they closed yesterday, so his application for a renovation permit for the building was in process. Now he needed to get the youth center proposal and the New Year’s Eve teen dance he wanted to hold on tonight’s agenda.

      “Is Betty in?” he asked her secretary.

      Treva Fisher looked up from her typing. “She has someone with her right now. Do you want to wait?”

      “Do you think they’ll be long?” He wanted to catch the mayor before he got too busy.

      “It’s your cousin Jake. What do you think?”

      His heart sank. Surely Jake didn’t have his proposal ready for the council. Peter was almost finished with his own except for a volunteer director. The door to Betty’s office opened, and his cousin stepped out behind the city clerk. When he saw Peter, a smug grin spread across Jake’s face.

      “You’re just getting here?” Jake said.

      “Yeah, I heard it’s the early worm that gets eaten.”

      Jake laughed. “We’ll see, cuz. We’ll see.”

      Peter ignored him and turned to Betty. “I need to put something on the agenda for tonight.”

      “And, I need a cup of coffee. How about walking with me to Cups and More. We’ll discuss it there.”

      He checked his watch. “I wanted to see Hugh before it got much later.”

      “Whatever you want to see him about can wait. I want to talk to you.”

      “Let me give him a call and let him know I want time with him.” Peter dialed the mayor and Hugh gave him an eleven o’clock appointment. He’d changed his plans without hesitation because everyone at city hall knew that since the mayor’s heart attack, Betty Atkins ran the office. “He said I’m to bring him a white chocolate mocha.”

      “Don’t you dare. Do you know how many calories there are in that drink? Over three hundred, not to mention the fat.” She peered at him. “He doesn’t know you’re with me, does he?”

      “I didn’t actually mention your name.” Peter tried not to grin. She not only ran the office, she ran the mayor. The two had been an item for years now, and everyone wondered why they didn’t get married.

      “We’ll get him a plain coffee,” she said grimly.

      The aroma of fresh ground beans met them at the door. As usual the shop was full of customers, some already at tables with their coffees and others waiting in line.

      He spied a table by the window. “You stake out our table, and I’ll get your coffee.”

      “Sounds good to me. I’ll take a skinny caramel latte.”

      He wasn’t surprised the health-conscious city clerk ordered something low calorie. As he walked to the counter, several people greeted him, and he stopped to chat briefly with Mrs. Palmer about her health. The white-haired retired English teacher had been his favorite in school. When he turned to get in line, he bumped into another customer, making him almost spill his coffee.

      “I’m sorry,” he said, and then he recognized Allie Carson’s brother. Make that Allie Jefferies. He didn’t know why her new last name was so difficult to remember. Peter held out his hand. “Clint, what are you doing in town?”

      “I live here now,” Clint said with a smile. He transferred his cup and shook Peter’s hand, then nodded toward the counter. “I think she wants your order.”

      “Don’t leave, yet.” He turned to the barista. “I’ll take a small Kona-blend, black, and a large skinny caramel latte,” he said, then shifted 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