Chapter 7 #2
A soft call from behind her broke the reverie. She turned in the open elevator doors to see the very same Damn Deryn Crowhart smirking at her.
“So, I’ll be coming up later—1326, was it, my love?”
The elevator closed on Reem Alami’s face, a picture of pure disappointment, while the sous-chefs reached for their phones, expressions full of glee.
Paloma could be miffed at the gossiping kitchen staff, but she could not fault their leader.
Deryn was a notorious womanizer. Chef Alami had implied as much just moments ago.
And now she was apprised that her boss was involved with her.
A boss that she, by all signs, held in regard and respect.
Well, if Paloma had been dating Deryn truthfully, she’d have lost some of that respect for herself, too.
Upstairs, Lachlan was pacing the foyer of her office. She waved him in and waited for the door to close. He began speaking as soon as the lock snicked shut.
“I’m sorry! I swear I don’t know what came over me! Would you believe that madness runs in the family?”
Paloma sat down, putting the width of the desk between them, then leaned back, relaxing in the chair and crossing her legs.
Lachlan kept on talking.
“I can turn it all around, though. Deryn is a good sport. She’ll keep her mouth shut, and Roxanne will believe that I was joking… Or something. We can figure it out.”
“We?” Paloma lifted an eyebrow, enjoying watching him squirm. If nothing else, she’d get a show out of this entire catastrophe.
Lachlan went visibly pale.
“Me! Of course, I’ll figure it out. I said nothing to no one, and Roxanne left the island earlier, so—”
“Deryn told Chef Alami and her four sous-chefs. It’s done, Lachlan.”
As much as she liked seeing the six-foot-seven-inch brontosaurus work himself into a tizzy, there was no point in prolonging it.
“You called me Lachlan instead of Mr. Vesely—does that mean you’re not firing me? Oh my god, it means you are. Since I’ve always been Mr. Vesely while in your employ!” He sank onto the leather couch and gave her the most pitiful look. Puppies had competition.
“No, I’m not firing you. I was just thinking that we might as well be on a first-name basis since we are about to commit election fraud together.”
He gasped, clutched his nonexistent pearls, then lowered his massive hands.
“Is lying about your personal circumstances really fraud? And if it is, it’s a small one. Tiny. Basically microscopic.”
“Well, be that as it may, we are deliberately deceiving the public to influence their vote. So…”
“First-name basis it is! I love this so much.”
Paloma sighed. Of course, he would ignore the seriousness of the situation.
She took a deep breath. Perhaps she should be the one to ignore it.
Who she was or wasn’t dating shouldn’t be what the election was about.
It shouldn’t matter. And yet, it damn well did.
Hence why so many men running for office engaged in lavender marriages, since coming out was a bridge too far for them and their electorate.
“If we are going to go forward with this charade, let’s get some things straight.”
Lachlan’s shoulders drooped.
“I’m sorry, ma’am…erm, Paloma. I’m incapable.”
She tried to hide her smile, then allowed it to bloom. He was ridiculous.
“I’ll let Deryn in on the rules of this game.” She looked at the bank of windows and the forest-flanked road that wound its way into the small, sleepy town. Her heart did a silly little roll, the inexplicable desire to stay, to belong, returning with force once again. Well, she would do her best.
“Draft an agenda. Events, meetings, door-to-doors. A town hall? Debates?”
“He won’t debate you, ma’am. I don’t see him agreeing.”
She knew he might be right. What would John Moss have to gain from debating her? Why would he expose himself to the humiliation of having a woman wipe the floor with his ego? But there were ways…
“Moss might not have a choice. There are laws and procedures, and I have the right to face him. I’ll sue otherwise.
Judge Astor is a fair man and a rule-follower.
Draft me a timeline, events and make some concrete plans, including a debate.
Talk to whomever you talk to…” Then Paloma paused and speared him with her gaze. “Who do you talk to, Lachlan?”
She could see by his deer-in-headlights expression that she’d caught him off guard. Good. He was a smart guy. But was he this smart?
“Rhiannon. Victoria. Um…Magdalene Nox.”
Paloma smiled. She had been dead on the money. And he proved that he was smart enough not to deny anything.
“Of course. I assume they are heavily invested in my winning the mayoralty?”
“They hate Moss—or, more likely, what he represents—and would hate to see him, or the likes of him, become mayor. They love you and would love to see you become the first woman to lead this town. They asked me to help you—”
“And to keep them apprised of my campaign? Did Rhiannon and Victoria come up with the Deryn plan? Seems rather callous to sacrifice their sister and niece like that…”
Lachlan tilted his head, and his eyes widened.
“Sacrifice? On your altar? Please, she wishes—” Then he stopped abruptly and shook his head, clearly incredulous.
“They did suggest that I offer my services as a PA and campaign… handler. But this whole thing was my plan. And they don’t know about it.
” Before she could express her own incredulity, he waved his hands vigorously.
“No, no. I swear. They don’t know. It was that damn Caw article that gave me the idea, and as soon as I read it, I knew.
Also, I haven’t really been a good spy for them. ”
“Why do you like my shoes better?” She smiled, and he answered with his own goofy, open grin.
“I do love your shoes. And your mind. Still…” He seemed to struggle with whatever he wanted to say, perhaps afraid to offend, or maybe simply afraid of her. She didn’t particularly care for the former and wasn’t too fond of the latter either. But she needed him.
“Your luck is that I happen to like all three of the people who appear to be so interested in my success. Or maybe that’s my luck. Still, I won’t be their pawn. I want to win, I want to…”
Stay. She almost said it. She didn’t know it was that simple a wish.
And yet… Paloma shook her head. She’d have to think about it.
Shame she had no one to talk to about this strange impulse of hers, which she hadn’t been able to explain even to herself since she had set foot on this island and walked the streets of this town.
“I want to win,” she repeated, if only to finish this conversation.
If only to send him away and to be alone.
She liked being alone best. “For myself, Lachlan. But also for a few reasons that are bigger than me. Or the Crowharts, or even the indubitable Headmistress Nox. So, as long as my interests align with Rhiannon, Victoria and Magdalene, we can all play in this sandbox. Once they don’t, we will have to reconsider this arrangement. ”
Lachlan nodded and lumbered away as only an exceptionally tall and somewhat clumsy individual could.
The sound of the horn rang in the distance, splitting the ocean fog.
The eleven o’clock ferry was coming in. As soon as the thought popped into her mind, Paloma closed her eyes.
She knew the ferry schedule. All the arrivals and departures.
Wasn’t that a sign that she had to stay?
That she belonged? She pushed from the desk and stepped to the windows once again. She had a lot to think about.