Chapter 18 Deryn, Debates & Spilled Whiskey
DERYN, DEBATES & SPILLED WHISKEY
MAYORAL DEBATE TODAY!
The town hall welcomes the frontrunners of the election, John Moss and Paloma Allende, to debate their platforms, their promises, and their plans for Crow’s Nest should either of them be elected the next mayor.
Mr. Moss is running on the promise of lowering property taxes, cutting off “pork barrel” spending, and glorifying Crow’s Nest history via the building of a new museum.
The project would be funded entirely by donations and would showcase the island and town through, as well as their contribution to the Commonwealth’s prosperity.
Ms. Allende is running on the promise to increase spending on education and welfare, ensuring equality and inclusion across the board, and focusing on the most vulnerable by building a center for survivors of abuse in Crow’s Nest.
Watch this space and watch the town hall.
—Crow’s Caw
“I don’t know how anyone could look at the summary of both platforms and have any kind of doubt about who to vote for.” Deryn pocketed her phone and looked at Paloma, who stood in front of the mirror, applying the finishing touches to her makeup.
“Men.” Deryn turned to the sound of the voice and watched as Magdalene Nox entered the little dressing room.
“Men is the answer to your question, Ms. Crowhart. I don’t believe we have actually met, but I am a big fan of your talents.
My wife watches every season of Bake Your Heart Out and has been rooting for you for years.
Though she was wondering why you’re still doing the show when you’ve clearly outgrown it. ”
Deryn shook the extended hand, a little starstruck. And a little struck by her forwardness.
“Ma’am, charmed” was all she could murmur, and the Headmistress smiled.
“Oh, you’re trouble. Ms. Allende, watch out for this one.”
The Headmistress reached out and straightened a line on the deep burgundy dress Paloma was wearing. Deryn’s eyes widened at the familiarity of the gesture. Nox winked at her.
“Oh, don’t fret, Ms. Crowhart. I’m also a big fan of your girlfriend, that’s all.”
It was Paloma’s turn to smile.
“Are you here to wish me luck?”
Nox nodded, then reached into a small briefcase.
“Luck, yes, but also to show you these.”
Deryn came closer as Nox spread several folders full of documents over the makeup table.
She caught a few words here and there as Paloma perused the papers.
Iraq, Afghanistan, Rathcross Foundation.
And to her surprise, Crowhart. There were also pictures of some kind of artifacts, tablets.
Deryn lifted her eyes to look at Paloma, whose face was drawn, eyes moving quickly over the documents, wide and shocked.
When she finally looked up, she was pale.
“Rathcross? My god…”
“Apt. Well, their God, to be more precise.” The Headmistress took the papers back from Paloma’s now-shaking hands. “None of this is confirmed. And none of these are legally obtained. So, while you and I and Ms. Crowhart are now aware, nobody else can be, for now.”
“I have no idea what any of this means, but since my family name is so prominent in the papers, I must insist on my sisters being looped in. Well, my aunt too. You would probably not be able to keep it a secret from her anyway.” Deryn winced a little and caught an approving nod from the Headmistress.
“Of course. I do apologize for the hit-and-run, so to speak, but I just received these, and as I said, with no confirmation for the moment, I am being extra cautious. But, Ms. Allende, I had to bring these to you before you go out there in a few minutes and debate this man.”
Paloma nodded as well. Then took one last look at herself in the mirror.
“Thank you, Headmistress. I think we should convene tonight at the resort and discuss. Deryn will make sure her family is present. We are missing Rhiannon and Prudence, but we will include them once they are back on the island.”
Nox nodded and exited the dressing room, leaving Deryn and Paloma alone.
“Ah… Did what I think just happened, really happened?” Deryn sat down heavily, her head spinning.
Paloma touched her temple, then handed her a glass of water from the pitcher.
“I wish I knew. Are you familiar with the Rathcross Foundation?”
Deryn shook her head, the room spinning faster for some reason just at the sound of those words. Of the name. She felt nauseous.
“They’re massive political donors. Not the ones you want donating to your causes. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah. I do. Why would an organization like that have anything to do with Dragons, Crow’s Nest, or, you know, the Crowharts?”
Paloma’s fingers played in her hair. Deryn was almost certain that she was so deep in thought that she wasn’t even aware of what she was doing, but the feeling was so overwhelmingly sweet that Deryn could feel it in her back teeth, the peace of it, the comfort of it, the cooling touch.
She sat very still, desperate to have the movement continue, to make the feeling last.
She was so gone over this woman. It would’ve been funny if it weren’t tragic. And while she had known from the start that Paloma had been…well, had been something…something, someone important, really…it was sobering to realize that she was actually everything.
In the face of this new danger, Deryn tried to hold on to the moment, to the emotion of it, to the touch of Paloma’s fingertips in her hair.
You… You… Just you…
Paloma gave Deryn’s hair one last tug before cracking her knuckles.
“We need to study those documents closely. I only read a few pages. Seems to be a very intricate scheme, but also one that goes back centuries, all the way to—”
“Gwendolyn Crowhart,” murmured Deryn.
“Yes.” Paloma’s voice was quiet, matching Deryn’s tone for tone.
“And now you’re involved.” Deryn looked up into an open face, wide eyes, honest and warm in the rays of sunshine beaming in through the half-closed blinds.
“I don’t regret it, if that’s what you want to ask me. And I have a feeling I was always involved.”
Deryn gulped, the lump in her throat growing to the size of a baseball.
Could it be? Could it be that I am not the only one in this?
Paloma said nothing else as she moved to the door. When her hand was on the doorknob, she turned back, and Deryn felt her gaze like a fist to the sternum.
“There’s right, and there’s wrong, Deryn. There are times when everything is murky, but then there is now. Nothing about now is in doubt.”
Deryn bit her lip and just listened as Paloma sent her one last glance.
The Q&A was deceptively simple and moving along fast. Judge Astor had been chosen to moderate, with questions submitted by the residents via a collection box posted in the town hall for weeks before the debate.
People wanted to know everything: basic things, like the candidates’ education—Yale and Harvard for Paloma and Crow’s Nest High for Moss—and specific things, like their plans for the renovation of the pier.
“The revision of the spending of the fisherman’s permit fees and an application to the State Department of Fish and Wildlife grant system, a grant for which Crow’s Nest qualifies implicitly, should be considered to be the main sources of renovation,” said Paloma, compared with, “Well, the taxes are too high and we need to lower them and figure out the pier after that,” from Moss.
Judge Astor was careful not to give preference to either candidate, but Deryn, standing in the wings, watching the two podiums and the two people behind them, couldn’t comprehend how the applause for Moss was as loud as it occasionally got.
He was as dumb as a bag of hammers. Deryn really had no other way of characterizing him.
He was vague, he was silly, and completely dismissive of most of the issues thrown at him.
He made a joke of the concerns he was asked about—the difficult expansion of the town’s elementary school, the nursing home’s need for new nurses, and the lack of service industry workers on the island.
“Haha, well, we just need more women to move to Dragons. Am I right, fellas?”
The audience laughed, and Deryn cringed.
In her hand, her phone vibrated with an incoming text.
It was the family chat, which Victoria was blowing up with commentary from the middle of the auditorium, where she sat between Marsha and Greg.
Rhiannon, was getting angrier on the chain with every new text from Victoria, Seren and Ceridwen chiming in occasionally to underscore their agreement that the son of bitch was just so damn dumb.
Aunty Vicky: WHY ARE THEY LAUGHING???? He literally called nursing, educating, and hospitality women-only professions! I can’t stand the motherfucker!
Queen Rhy: HIS WIFE IS AN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL TEACHER!
Seren aka First Twin: Clearly, someone needs to perform a wellness check on that woman.
Queen Rhy: Nah, she chose him and clearly stands by him if she is not charging that podium with a skillet to bash his brains in. I’m so sorry I’m missing this. Please keep sending updates.
Deryn did not participate in the texting, too busy watching every expression cross Paloma’s face. Concentration, thoughtfulness, concern, empathy, anger. There was a flash of the latter after Moss’s latest comment about women.
“Ms. Allende, your rebuttal?” Judge Astor looked particularly uncomfortable as he redirected his attention from Moss to Paloma. Well, everyone should be uncomfortable. Deryn sure as fuck was. She was raging because, somehow, despite everything, this damn man was running neck and neck with Paloma.
The audience’s whispering, giggles, and applause for the tasteless jokes Moss made stopped, and Deryn saw Paloma grip the podium tighter.
“I think—sexist humor aside—the underlying issue of the lack of workforce resources on Dragons at large alongside the price of housing and the fact that women are paid much less for their labor and cannot afford the steep rents that are only going up every year—”