37. Chapter 37
Chapter 37
Patrick
The next weeks passed in a frenzy of activity. I disclosed my parents’ attempted deal with Banner Entertainment in a statement to voters, and that I’d severed any further campaign support from my family.
The Ribben campaign pounced on that fact immediately. My fractured family and their attempted corruption apparently made me unfit for the mayor role. They went in even harder on how the Ribben family legacy meant stability for the community.
It was going to be a close race.
But I learned not to underestimate Bea Clark. She’d agreed to finish out the campaign, exceedingly confident she was headed for a settlement payout with my parents. She suggested we meet with Eric Ribben at a restaurant outside of Birchwood Hills, beyond prying eyes. After a bit of coaxing, he’d agreed.
If I lost the race, that casino deal would go through unless Eric stopped it. We believed he might.
We showed him a presentation on my laptop about how the casino deal would negatively impact the town, including data from similar deals. When we shared the environmental impact of disturbing the available land, Eric asked question after question. Turned out, he had a soft spot for those ducks covered in oil he learned about in fifth grade. As a result, he’d started his own campaign against oil drilling in the Great Lakes and won a junior environmental award for his activism. A cause he’d drifted away from over time but seemed newly energized on.
“Nobody at the campaign listens to me,” Eric told Bea and me after two-and-a-half hours of talking. “You two listened.”
“Do you want to be mayor, Eric?” Bea closed in on the real question of the day.
He shrugged. “I don’t like feeling like a puppet. I can’t believe the forested area behind the apartments isn’t protected land. But I don’t know if I can say no to my uncle. He’s really persuasive.”
“We have an offer for you,” Bea said. “To clarify, it’s legal.”
“Have you heard of a deputy mayor?” I asked. He shook his head no. “It’s an option in Birchwood Hills’ governance that’s been unused during your uncle’s tenure. If you win, you could offer a deputy slot and appoint me. We could work together. Or if I win, I can appoint you. We could possibly appease your family by keeping you in governance, and work on changing their mind from a position of power. Together.”
“Why would you do that? If you win, you don’t need me.”
I’d been thinking about this a lot. “I didn’t get where I am without the support of a village—my family yes, but also a family who I don’t have blood relation to, but who accepted me for who I am without question. I think it’s better to do things together. Your family knows this town. You feel overwhelmed and bullied. I have a passion to prevent this deal. Maybe we can help each other.”
I never would have expected to offer a partnership with my opponent, but then again, I wasn’t really suited for cutthroat politics.
Now it was election night. Marcy and everyone else who mattered were here with me at my duplex, including the young volunteers from my campaign and Carmen with several staff from the legal aid office. Pizza had been devoured and a few bottles of cheap champagne waited that could either be celebratory or to drown our sorrows (responsibly).
The county website offered our most up-to-date information, so we had that up on a second monitor attached to my laptop on the dining room table.
The numbers were close.
“Whatever happens, I’m proud of you,” my mother said.
We’d talked through our troubles further, and I’d accepted her apology. I didn’t want to cut her out of my life. My father was a different story. He wasn’t here tonight, but I had the feeling we’d be talking soon. I’d heard through Eric that his uncle refused to take my father’s support for the campaign.
“I won’t have us continue as a divided family,” my mother had promised. “You’re too important to lose. I’m going to work on him.”
I knew she’d give it her best effort, and honestly, I held out hope. Maybe that hope was wishful thinking. I’d still keep wishing.
Around nine p.m., all votes were reported in and a final tally would release within minutes. Robby had his electric guitar hooked up to a small amp in the living room and played The Star-Spangled Banner . He wasn’t too shabby, and it was a great distraction.
The local race tallies began unfolding on the screen with the words Final Outcome in red. I held my breath until Birchwood Hills appeared.
I…lost.
By twelve votes. Twelve .
“I would have voted if I lived in town limits.” Marcy stroked my arm. “I’m so sorry.”
Robby shook his head. “I should have moved in here so I could vote for you.”
Matteo clapped me on the back. “Sorry, buddy.”
My mother began apologizing all over again. Bea Clark looked insulted, but she’d more or less been working for pennies these last few weeks in exchange for my support with her case against my father.
I sighed. “Thanks, everyone.” I started clapping and gestured for others to join in. “Give yourselves a hand. I’m so grateful for all of you. Thank you for helping me do this. Even though we didn’t win, I know we can still make a difference.”
My cell phone lit up. I crossed into the kitchen and hit accept. “Congratulations, Mayor Eric Ribben.”
He laughed. “Sorry about beating you. So, about that deputy mayor position. You still interested?”
After everyone cleared out, that left my one and only favorite person. We headed out to my back porch where stars shone bright in a clear, dark sky.
I swept Marcy into my arms. “I don’t even feel like I lost.”
Her brow furrowed in the cutest worried expression. “But…you did. And by twelve measly votes! After all we did to get you electable. All the suffering with my family. And yours.”
I bent toward her, sealing my response with a kiss. We could talk about politics later. Or maybe never.
She shuddered in my arms.
“Are you cold?” She had on a sweater, but I removed my jacket and wrapped it around her .
“I think that was a happy chill.” She ran her hands up my arms to my shoulder where she rubbed the night’s tension out. “So, deputy mayor then?”
“We’re working out details. I was just an idea.”
“A smart one, if Eric goes for it. He’ll need your support to fend off his uncle.”
All of that felt like a problem for another day. “I love you, Marcy.”
She gasped as if this was new information. “I love you, too!” She pushed her fingers into my hair. I felt wild for her. Wild in love. Ready for anything.
I hadn’t lost at all. Nope, I had everything I needed right here.
She looked up at me. “What are we going to do with all this free time now that you’re not campaigning?”
“Easy. Set up your bakery.”
She bit her lip through a smile. She glowed with joy. “Did I tell you? I get the keys Friday.” She squealed.
“That’s amazing. I’m so proud of you.” I pushed a curly strand of hair behind her perfect ear.
“I’m not sure I would have gone through with this if it weren’t for you.”
“And Hudson. And your friends. And your grandparents’ inheritance money.”
“Sure. All those things. But you believed in me. Every time I doubted, you kept on believing.”
“You make it easy to believe.”
I must have scored with that one because she pulled me tight and pressed her lips to mine. She was everything I could have dreamed for and had dreamed for. Thankfully, we were no longer dreaming.