Drop Dead Chocolate (2 page)

The mayor shook his head. “If you’ve got a problem with that, blame it on Blake and his catchy headline.”

“I’m not kidding, Mr. Mayor,” Momma said, managing to put a great deal of scorn into her words, especially his title.

“You put her up to this, didn’t you?” Cam asked me as he looked at me, acknowledging me for the first time since I’d walked in.

“Don’t try to blame me. I’m just along for the ride,” I said, trying my best to smile brightly.

“I’ll bet,” he said.

“Mr. Mayor, I’m perfectly capable of acting on my own,” Momma said. “I will ask you only once more. Will you walk away from this right here and now?”

“No, ma’am, respectfully, I won’t. You can’t tell me what to do, and I won’t be bullied by a … citizen in my own office.” I had a feeling he wanted to use a different word than “citizen,” but even he wasn’t that foolhardy.

Momma nodded curtly. “Then I’m going downstairs and filing my name as a candidate for mayor.”

Cam didn’t look happy about the news, but something must have suddenly occurred to him. He smiled broadly as he said, “Sorry, but you can’t.”

“What do you mean, she can’t?” I asked. “Do you honestly think that you can stop her?”

The mayor drummed his fingers on the desktop. “The town charter clearly states that she needs a hundred signatures before she can file, and I doubt she can get them by tomorrow.”

“I’d be glad to wager that you’re wrong there,” my mother said as she pivoted and headed for the door.

“Dorothy, you’re biting off more than you can chew this time,” Cam said as Momma reached the door.

She turned and gave him a withering stare. “Is that a threat, Cam?”

“It’s Mr. Mayor, remember?”

Momma smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “For now,” she said, and then I followed her out, carefully leaving the door open behind us.

Polly was standing just beside it, and it wouldn’t have surprised me a bit to learn that she’d been eavesdropping on our conversation. She silently clapped a few times and smiled, but then Cam yelled for her, and she disappeared inside.

“What now?” I asked. “If the donut shop were open, I could get you the signatures you need in a heartbeat, but where are you going to find a hundred people right now? Are we going door-to-door begging for them?”

Momma shook her head. “We won’t have to. We’re going to start at the Boxcar Grill and move on from there until we’ve made our quota.”

As soon as we walked into the diner, we told Trish Granger, the owner and one of my best friends, what we were up to. When she heard the news, she whooped with great joy. “Well, all I can say is that it’s about time.”

“I think so, too,” I said.

Momma asked, “Do you mind helping us, Trish?”

“Are you kidding? I want to be the first one to sign it.”

I looked at Momma and said, “We forgot to make up a sheet. Some campaign chair I turned out to be.”

“Who said you could run my election?”

“Come on, I’m the logical choice,” I said. “Who in the world believes in you more than I do?”

She softened for a just a moment, then said matter-of-factly, “Very well, but that means you need to take orders from me without resistance.”

I wasn’t sure I could abide by that. “I’ll try.”

Momma looked at me a second longer and then nodded. “I suppose that will have to do.”

Trish reached into a drawer behind the register and brought out ten sheets of blank paper. She stapled them together, and then wrote in big letters on the front page: “Petition to Put Dorothy Hart on the Ballot for Mayor of April Springs.”

She showed us and then asked, “How’s that?”

“It’s perfect,” Momma said.

“Good.” Trish signed her name bigger than John Hancock’s, and then announced, “Let’s go, folks. Dorothy Hart for mayor: Be one of the lucky ones who gets to sign the petition.”

There was a rush up front, whether for my mother or against Cam Hamilton, but it really didn’t matter what their motivation was. We needed signatures, and we needed them quickly.

As people signed, more came into the diner, and I found Trish working her telephone. When she hung up, I asked, “Where are they all coming from?”

“I dialed the ladies on the Disaster Alert call list, and they’re phoning everyone in town. We’ll have those signatures before the clerk’s office closes.”

“Should you be doing that?” I asked.

“Why shouldn’t I? The list is strictly done on a volunteer basis, and it’s not associated with any government agency at all.”

I still wasn’t sure this was the best way to start our campaign. “But it’s not really a disaster, is it?”

Trish nodded. “You bet it is. Cam Hamilton has been mayor long enough. If getting your mother elected isn’t a number one priority for this community, I don’t know what is.”

More folks were signing, most likely more than we needed.

“On second thought, you should be the one running her campaign,” I said. “You’ve got a lot of ties to the community, and folks around here clearly respond to you.”

“They respond to you, too,” she replied.

“Maybe if they’re craving donuts,” I said. “But you’re a natural leader.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. I wouldn’t know how to run a mayoral campaign.” She looked around the crowded restaurant and added, “I wouldn’t mind being head of PR, though. I can spread the word like nobody’s business.”

I nodded. “As soon as I get my mother’s approval, you’ve got the job.”

Trish looked pleased by the honor when my best friend, Grace Gauge, walked into the diner. “Hey, why didn’t anyone call me? I didn’t know we were having a party.”

“It’s better than that,” I said. “Momma’s running for mayor.”

“It’s about time,” she said. “How can I help?”

“There’s a petition right over there,” I said, pointing to a crowd midway through the diner. “You’d better hurry, though. Slots are filling up fast.”

“Not without me,” she said as she pushed her way into the mess.

A few minutes later Momma rejoined us, with Grace close behind her. My mother looked a little surprised by the outpouring.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“We’ve already got one hundred twenty-seven signatures,” she said, clearly a little dumbfounded. “I kept telling them we had enough, but people kept insisting that the have the right to sign. It’s all a bit overwhelming.”

“You can be stunned tomorrow,” I said. “Right now, we need to get these signatures to the courthouse so we can get you registered.” I pulled her aside and asked softly, “Are you sure you want to do this? It’s still not too late to back out.”

She looked at me for a second before she answered. “Is that what you want, Suzanne?”

I laughed. “Are you kidding me? I’d love to see you wipe the floor up with that windbag.”

“Even if it makes life a little harder for you?”

“Momma, you need to be mayor of April Springs, and no one else. I’m voting for you twice if I can figure out how to get away with it.”

Grace said, “It’s not that tough. The first thing you need to do is—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Momma said. “Suzanne, let’s go to the courthouse before I change my mind.”

*   *   *

Grace stayed behind to grab a bite at Trish’s, but she promised to catch up with us later at the house.

As Momma and I walked back to the city hall building, I said, “I didn’t push you into this, did I? You’re sure you want to do this, right?”

Momma frowned a moment. “There is one thing I’m concerned about. I have my fingers in a great many pies around town,” she said. “It might not be appropriate for me to run for public office. After all, I just chastised Cam for something some might justifiably accuse me of doing myself.”

Even I didn’t have any idea what kind of businesses my mother owned a part of in and around April Springs, and I was her only child, not to mention her roommate, since my divorce from Max. She played her cards close to the vest, and I had a hunch she liked it that way. “The difference is, folks already know that about you. No one expects you to stop what you’re doing and sell all of your stakes, but your contacts could make life around here a lot easier for everyone involved. Are you planning on bidding on any jobs that involve city or county government while you’re in office?”

“Of course not,” she said.

“Then I don’t see a problem.”

“There’s something else to consider as well. The job comes with a great many headaches, I’m sure,” Momma said, though I could see that she was beginning to like the idea of being mayor.

“But just think: you’ll be Grand Marshal of the Pageant Parade, and you get to give away keys to the city whenever you feel like it, too.”

She laughed shortly. “Leave it to you to name those two functions of the position. If I were to do this, I would be intent on allowing folks a voice in how they are governed, instead of just bullying them the way Cam does.”

I met her smile with one of my own. “I agree, but just picture his expression when we walk in and he sees how fast you got those signatures,” I said. “It’s nearly worth it just to watch his face.”

“I shouldn’t admit it, but you’re right,” she said, waving the sheets filled with signatures in the air. As though she couldn’t believe it herself, Momma said, “I’m running for mayor!”

“I couldn’t be happier about it. I’m backing you a thousand percent. You’ve got a campaign manager, and Trish has already volunteered to run your PR, which is huge,” I said, getting into the spirit of her declaration.

Momma looked at me warily. “Are you sure you’ll be able to take orders from me?”

“About the campaign, sure,” I conceded. “Everything else is off-limits, though.”

Momma nodded, bit her lower lip, took a deep breath, and then said, “I suppose that makes it official. I’m running.”

“Let me get out my jogging shoes, because I’m going to be right beside you.”

CHAPTER 2

To my delight, Cam was downstairs in the clerk’s office at the Board of Elections when we walked in. He didn’t look all that pleased to see us. “You’ve made your point, Dorothy. There’s no need to keep hammering it home. I get it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Momma said. She turned to the clerk, a woman named Hillary Mast, who loved my donuts. “Hillary,” my mother said, “I’d like to file my papers for the mayoral election.”

If Hillary was surprised by the announcement, she didn’t show it. “Good, you’ve come to the right place. I need just two things from you: the signatures of one hundred registered voters, and a fifty-dollar fee. I can vouch for your proof of residency myself.”

“Here are the names,” Momma said, “and I have the money in my purse.”

“Let me see those,” Cam said, not being particularly nice about it at all. He tried to grab them as they changed hands, but Hillary was much too quick for him.

“If you touch those papers, I will go directly to the police station and swear out a warrant for your arrest for tampering with an election,” Hillary said.

“You’ve got to be joking,” Cam replied.

To my delight, Hillary didn’t bat an eye. “If you think I’m bluffing, try it. Truth be told, there would be nothing that would give me greater pleasure.”

“Are you on her side, too?” he asked her, clearly incredulous. “Do you think that’s wise, given the fact that I’m your boss?”

“You don’t scare me. I’m an elected official, too,” Hillary said. “I work for the people of the town of April Springs in the state of North Carolina, and there’s nothing in my job description that says you’re my employer. Now, if you don’t have any more official business here, I’ll ask you to leave.”

Cam stared wickedly at Hillary, at me, and then longer at my mother before he finally left the room and walked up the stairs.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for three years,” Hillary said with a smile after he was gone.

“You didn’t get into trouble on my account, did you?” Momma asked.

“Trust me, I meant what I said. He can’t touch me.”

Hillary scanned the signatures and then said, “I’ll have to check these against our voter registration logs, but they look good for me. All I need from you now is your fee and I’ll enter your name on the rolls.”

Momma looked inside her purse, growing more and more frantic, and said, “I can’t believe this. My wallet must be at home.”

Hillary looked upset as she said, “I’m really sorry, but without a fee, you can’t file. I can’t bend the rules for anyone, Dorothy, not even you.”

“Hang on a second. I’ve got it,” I said. I suddenly remembered the two twenties and a ten I’d put in my pants pocket that afternoon. I’d been planning to spend it on something completely unnecessary, but I was delighted to use it for this opportunity. As I unfolded the bills and handed them to Hillary, I said to Momma, “This is on me.”

“Nonsense, I’ll pay you back as soon as we get home.”

I wasn’t about to argue with her. “It’s your call, but I want you to know that I’m supporting you with everything I’ve got.”

“I should certainly hope so,” Momma said.

Hillary looked around to make sure no one was close enough to hear her, and then said, “You’ve got my vote as well, though I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t tell anyone. I don’t want a whisper of voting irregularities, if you know what I mean.”

Momma looked touched by the declarations. “Thank you both for your support.”

Hillary wrote out a receipt and handed it to Momma. “Good luck.”

“Thank you.”

As we left the courthouse, Polly was waiting outside for us. “What exactly did you do to that man?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Momma asked.

“He came up to his office, stayed less than a minute, and then stormed out of here as though he were on fire.”

“If I had to guess, I suppose he was displeased when he found out that I was serious about running for mayor,” Momma said, as though she were trying the words out for the first time.

Polly laughed. “You’ve got my vote, and if you need any campaign workers, let me know.”

I knew Polly didn’t have Hillary’s protected status. “Hang on a second. Won’t he fire you?”

“He can’t,” Polly said with a grin. “I just decided to quit. I took the job as a volunteer to fill some empty hours, but I’m good at what I do. Dorothy, I’d like to formally ask you for my old job back the day you take over the mayor’s office.”