28. Chapter 28
Chapter 28
Patrick
“This doesn’t feel real,” I mumbled to Marcy. We sat on stiff plastic chairs in a waiting room with plush carpet that appeared new, but I suspected came at a steep discount given the odd shade of electric burgundy.
“The carpet is a real eyesore.” Marcy grimaced. “Anyway, yeah, this seems a little surreal. But the timing is perfect. You were already at court today being a lawyer and I ate a sandwich on the way over, thus having a productive lunch.”
I grinned. I wouldn’t admit to her I wore my nicest suit and my favorite tie, the dark blue one with a constellation print, knowing we had our date with a license to wed. A little bit of whimsy for a romantic, albeit administrative, task. “You look nice today.”
She crossed her feet at her ankles. “This is my favorite dress from the campaign shopping spree. It makes me feel like a future mayor’s wife.”
My stomach spun with butterflies. Even though this license was only intended to unlock Marcy’s trust, it still felt like a big step for us. Not real, but still important.
The whole ordeal didn’t take long. We provided our required identification and listened as the clerk gave us the necessary directions. An extra ten bucks would expedite the license to receive it today instead of waiting the few days for processing.
“I’m at the courthouse several days a week,” I said to Marcy. “If you want to save the fee.”
She made a face at me. “Pay the fee. I’m getting a lot more than ten dollars because of this license.” Marcy clapped a hand over her mouth. She eyed the clerk. “I’m not marrying for money, I swear. We actually really do love each other.”
The clerk behind the desk may have been forty or sixty. Her steely eyes told me she’d seen a thing or three. “Divorce is expensive,” she croaked. “Keep that in mind.”
Maybe my head fully existed in the clouds, but I would never keep divorce in mind with Marcy. I struck the thought from the record and took her hand. My actual bride-to-be, at least legally.
She looked up at me with pure joy as we exited the courthouse to a crisp, sunny fall day. I could only hope she was as happy about our future as she was about the money.
While summer had already rolled over to fall on the calendar, only this week had the heat finally fallen off for cooler days. Peak pumpkin spice days, as Marcy liked to call it.
While Marcy prepared her financing and business plan to make an offer on the bakery space, I kept my head down, working and doing the campaign grind. A weeknight forum at the public library, a coffee event at the diner with local retirees, and knocking on doors to talk to voters directly. On top of all that, my parents wanted to have dinner.
“Can’t. I have an event.” My calendar wasn’t anywhere near me at the moment, but every weekend was booked from now through election day. Besides, I saw my parents more now than I had in years. I was literally sitting beside my mother in her own dining room, eating leftover Pad Thai delivery. “After the campaign, we’ll go to a nice restaurant. You, me, Dad, and Marcy.”
“Patrick.” She had that tone that informed me I wasn’t skirting past this. “It’s an event related to the campaign. There’s been a slight shift in plans—a different event venue and your father and I will both be there. I’ll update the address and sync it to your calendar this week.”
Did I mind that my mother controlled my social calendar? Yes. Yes, I did. But this was what I’d signed up for when I…didn’t elect her as my campaign manager. When Bea Clark got the boot, this was what I’d ended up with. Honestly, I could have done worse.
Earlier this week she’d proven her worth running this campaign. “We’ve got it on good authority that Eric Ribben has been pulling out of campaign events. When he does show up, his uncle does all the talking. The public doesn’t like it. They don’t trust Eric. They see him as a puppet.”
That lined up with what I’d witnessed when Eric showed up at the pub the other night. I told her as much. “What do you think this means for us?”
“It means we let them keep doing what they’re doing. We go hard on the message that you’re running on your own merit. We’re already on top of the messaging. Look—we recorded this with your father.”
She pulled up a video on her phone of my father, sitting at his desk with the company logo behind him. “When my son told me he wanted to run for local mayor, I was ecstatic. Finally! Something I could help him with. But you know what happened? He said ‘No, Dad. I’m doing this on my own.’”
The video shifted to a montage of images featuring my work at the legal clinic. Then of me in a T-shirt and jeans digging at a community garden event. Another at a senior citizens brunch where I offered free legal advice.
The video switched back to my father, but now he was sitting lakeside on a dock wearing casual clothes. “My son didn’t need me to lead the way. He’s been doing that all on his own. For once, I had to learn to step back. And I couldn’t be more proud.”
The words Vote Strauss appeared at the end.
“It’s not posted yet, but we’re putting it up this week.” Excitement glinted in her eyes.
I took in my mother, her hair pulled back in a scrunchie, more like what I’d expect of Marcy. She wore a fleece jacket unzipped over a T-shirt and no make-up. I rarely saw my mother like this. I missed this, feeling at home here with her.
“Hey, Mom?”
It took her a good five seconds to look up from her phone. “Mmm?”
“Thanks for everything. You’ve really been watching out for me.”
She flitted a hand my direction. “You know we’d do anything for you.”
“Yeah, but you’re listening to me. You’re not pushing me to do what you want. I appreciate that.”
She held my gaze a few seconds before giving me a light kiss at my temple. “It’s taken us some time to figure that out, but we always have in mind what’s best for you. That has never changed.”
Maybe so, but I was finally starting to see that they had changed, which for me, meant everything.
By Saturday, Marcy made an offer on the bakery space. She’d enlisted a commercial real estate agent and texted me immediately after the offer had been submitted.
Marcy: Now we hold our breath.
Me: Let’s celebrate! How about drinks before the event tonight?
Marcy: Celebrate ? It’s not a done deal! So much can go wrong!
Me: You took the step. Look at all you’ve done already.
She relented, and we met at the pub by my house. She had on a T-shirt and ripped jeans. “Hey, babe.” She kissed me so naturally, like we did this every day. “I have my dress for tonight in my car. Figured I can change at your place once we’re done here.”
“Yeah, sure.” I had to ask. “Did you park by the bakery and look in the window again?”
She refused to meet my eyes. “Shut up.”
“It’s exciting!” I rubbed her back. “I’m so proud of you.”
She grinned. “Thanks. We’ll see what happens.”
We found seats at a high-top table by the bar. I ordered an appetizer—no brainer, the pretzel bits and cheesy dip was our go-to here—and put our drink orders in. Moments after the server left, a shadow crossed the table. “May I?”
“Eli Ribben.” I did a double take as the elder Ribben pulled up an empty chair from a nearby table and sat. Eli was dressed as casually as the man got, in a sport coat with no tie and a polo shirt beneath, with every button undone, exposing a light nest of chest hair. This had to be about the bakery space. That was incredibly fast. “What can we do for you?”
Marcy spoke before he managed a response. “The offer is fair, and my agent is prepared to negotiate.” She spoke with confidence. “It’s quite unusual for you to show up like this. How did you even know we were here?”
He blinked a moment before tipping his chin to Marcy. “Ma’am. My apologies for interrupting your meal, but I felt it imperative to address this situation as soon as possible. And in my town, I have eyes and ears everywhere.” He turned to me. “Just what do you think you’re doing with Banner Entertainment Group? You’ve gotten too deep for your britches, young man. That deal is mine and always has been.”
I was pretty sure the expression was too big for your britches, but that was the least confusing thing he’d said. “You know I oppose the casino deal. I haven’t wavered on that and I won’t.”
He folded his arms against the table and leaned toward me. “I don’t buy your innocent act. Not with that rich daddy behind you working his deals.”
Something tightened in my chest. “He’s helped me fund campaign activities, but he’s not part of my platform. Would you like to enlighten me on exactly what your problem is?”
Eli studied me a moment before sitting back. He switched his focus to Marcy. “You mentioned an agent and an offer. What’s that about?”
Marcy threw a look my way before answering. “The empty storefront. On Main Street.”
Eli stroked his clean-shaven jawline. “Huh.” He cast a sidelong glance my way. “When’s the last time you spoke to your dear old daddy?”
The air felt thinner somehow. I took a shallow breath. “I don’t know what you’re getting at. What’s going on?”
I could almost see puzzle pieces assembling in Eli’s mind. He shook his head in bewilderment. “You don’t know, do you?” He chuckled, and I tasted his sarcasm. “Well, I’ll admit, this comes as a surprise. Here I thought you were the slick one running this operation, but it’s all true, isn’t it? You’re as wholesome as they come. Your folks are behind you with the money bags and pulling all their own strings.”
“You’re being rude,” Marcy cut in. “You apologized for interrupting, but you’re being anything but polite. ”
He tossed his hands up in mock surrender. “Didn’t mean to be cryptic. Just caught off guard.”
The puzzle began connecting in my own head. “There’s a deal between my father and the Banner Entertainment Group, isn’t there?”
Please laugh and say this is a joke. Don’t confirm my worst fears—fears I didn’t consciously have because they weren’t even on my radar.
Eli shot a finger gun my direction. “Bingo. Your mother, she’s quite the shark on her own. She had me fooled, too. Met her down in Detroit the other week.”
“Patrick,” Marcy spoke gently. “We should go. We can figure out what’s happening at the house.”
My hands fisted. I hated to ask. “What are they promising? What’s the deal?”
Eli looked at me with pity. That’s when I knew this was bad, really bad. “They’re bankrolling your little campaign to get you into the mayoral seat. You’ll be the one signing off on that land when they get you in. They’re working a back-end deal that should go to me. Shame they didn’t let you in on their plan. Doubly low, since you’re their son.” He shook his head. “My Eric may be green when it comes to politics, but I’d never double cross my own nephew.”
Eli stood.
Marcy bolted to standing along with him. “And the storefront on Main? Are you blocking the sale?” She glanced at me. “Sorry, I’m just confused by all of this. I had to ask.”
Eli shrugged. “I have people to handle that. If your offer’s fair, I wish you all the best. The place is just sitting there empty. May as well get it off my hands.” He nodded to both of us before making his exit.
My parents. They’d betrayed me. “After everything…the talks we’ve had…I trusted them and they… ”
Marcy appeared at my side. “Let’s get out of here. Head out front. I’ll flag down the server and meet you there.”
I shook my head. “We’re celebrating.” I couldn’t focus as my mind raced. Whatever I said came out on autopilot. My body felt numb. My stomach twisted. How could they do this? How could they use me for the very thing I stood against?
All that talk of going on a family vacation. Dinners together, feeling like old times. All while doing their own dirty deals, using me as bait.
Somehow, I ended up outside on the street with Marcy’s steady touch guiding me. I’d walked here, so Marcy led me to her car and drove us the short distance to my place. Sickening despair rooted deeper. My parents had allowed me to believe I’d been calling the shots. They’d played me.
She parked beside my car. “Patrick, I’m so sorry.”
Marcy looked so beautiful in the fading daylight.
“There’s one good thing coming out of this. You’re getting your bakery.”