Chapter 18
“WHAT IS it, Dad?” Sterling asked into the phone.
Connor lifted his head off the pillow, peering at the clock next to the bed. Sterling must have gotten up already. He pushed back the covers and swung his feet to the floor. He needed to shower, dress, and get to the college. The list of things he needed to accomplish today was quite lengthy, and he had to get his mind cleared and ready for the mayoral town hall. Because of scheduling conflicts and a stonewalling opponent, the town hall meeting had been rescheduled twice, and each time Connor grew a little more nervous.
“Did he try to get out of it once more?” Connor asked.
Sterling came back into the room wearing a pair of ice-cream-print boxers that said Lick Me on them. The first time Connor had seen them, he had taken those words as a command. “No. It’s worse. The mayor is apparently stacking the room. His supporters, such as they are, have gotten together and are bringing people in so that he has a favorable audience.” Sterling put his hands on his hips, eyes burning with anger. “That man is a piece of work. Like a stunt like that is really going to help him.”
“True, but now my message will fall on deaf ears and I’ll get nothing out of them, while his people can get energized. And the reports will be all about how well he does and how the audience was unenthused about my message.” Connor was tired of this kind of dirty dealing. “What do I do?”
“You don’t do anything. You need to get ready for the town hall. Practice what you want to say for your opening remarks and tailor them to the current mayor’s base, without mentioning him at all. Tell them what you want to do, and as for the rest, leave it to Dad. He said he was already working on it.” Sterling sat on the side of the bed next to him.
“What would I do without you?”
Sterling took his hand. “The same as I would without you—try to figure out how to make it day to day.” He smiled. “You make getting up each and every morning special. If you win or lose, it doesn’t matter to me. It isn’t going to change a thing with me or for you. There will be another election, and you’re young. Mayor Randall decided to put off his retirement plans to run, so one way or another, he’s going to be out eventually.”
That was true, but another term of the current mayor was not what the borough needed. Under his leadership, things had been put off and weren’t changing to keep up with changing demands. It was stagnating, and that was not going to make the problems go away. They’d only get bigger. “I know. But….”
“Don’t get me wrong. I want you to win.” He squeezed his fingers. “Let’s go shower, and you can get to work. I have an appointment in an hour and calls to make.” Sterling grinned. “Remember that what’s good for the goose is good for the gander. If he’s going to try to pack the room, we’ll see if we can outflank him.” He stood and tugged Connor to his feet, and he followed Sterling to the bathroom. It had become a habit to take their morning showers together. Sterling’s old house wasn’t the most conducive, but it was important and an intimate way to start the day.
CONNOR’S DAY was nonstop from the moment he got to his office. His colleagues all wished him luck, and some said they planned to come to the town hall meeting. At least he knew he would have some friends in the audience. His department head as well as the academic dean stopped in to wish him luck as well. It seemed they were both ecstatic about the possibility of having the mayor on faculty. Those two ate and drank prestige for lunch.
As he was readying to leave, he called Sterling, who asked him to come to the house. “Lucille already got some fresh clothes for you and brought them over. I swear the woman can move heaven and earth when she wants to.”
“I know. I told her what to get. I’ll be there in ten, and then I can eat, change, and get this bloodbath over with.”
As the day went on, Connor had become more and more convinced that what had started out as a great idea was going to turn into the death of his campaign.
CONNOR KNEW it was early, but he wanted to get a feel for the setup, so they walked over and went inside. The council chamber had been adjusted slightly, with two podiums placed at the front of the dais so he and Randall each had a place to stand and could be seen. Chairs had been put out for the attendees. The mayor sat in his place in the center, looking like he was working, but Connor saw it as a way to try to control the room. Still, he went to his podium and looked out over the chamber as people began filing in.
The mayor looked up and stood, walked around the side, and began greeting people and shaking hands. Connor put his things down on the podium and did the same, pasting on a smile. He received frosty but polite replies as the attendees filled in the front rows. Damn, Connor had known about Randall’s plan, but it was disheartening to see.
Grant entered and motioned him off to the side. “The mayor’s relatives and friends,” he explained.
“What are we going to do?” Connor could imagine the disaster this was going to be, with the room packed with Mayor Randall’s supporters. The questions, the reactions. It was certain that the local paper would be there, and the reporting would be abysmal. No one was going to care about a word he said, and every thought he had would be torn apart and thrown back in his face. Connor had no intention of giving up, but he could feel his chances of winning slipping through his fingers. Maybe it had been a pipe dream to think that he would be able to get elected to anything.
“Don’t worry.” Grant snickered. “The cavalry is on the way.” He stepped to the side, and Connor tried to figure out what the hell that meant while he continued to circulate as more people arrived. The best he figured he could do was ensure the night wasn’t a complete disaster.
He caught Sterling’s gaze more than once, and it buoyed his heart. Sterling was in his corner, and if this completely fell apart, he knew Sterling would still be there. That was what mattered. There would be other elections if he chose to run. Politics was a game of highs and lows, and he needed to remember that. He’d get through this, and at the end of the night, he’d go home with Sterling and he’d hold him.
Connor smiled. To hell with it. Maybe he could get Sterling to go home now, and they could get to the consoling and just skip the certain nuclear-level disaster that his fledgling political aspirations had become.
“Excuse me,” said a lady walking with a cane. She made her way to the front and spoke to a few people, and danged if they didn’t get up. Another lady with a cane joined her, and they sat down. Other ladies arrived, and they all headed to the front few rows. Slowly, people rearranged themselves, and some found new seats.
“Aunt Lucille,” Connor said as she entered from the back. “Thank you for being here. It’s good to see a friendly face.”
She patted his cheek. “There are lots of friendly faces here. I brought nearly the entire garden club.” His great-aunt leaned closer. “Who would deny a seat to an old lady? So I’ve packed the room with them. The mayor is going to look out and find his people farther back than he thought they would be and now separated because others were already seated.” She nodded, and Connor reminded himself never, ever to get on the bad side of the little old ladies—they were fierce.
“Is everything okay?” Sterling asked as more people filed in until all the seats were taken. Citizens stood toward the back, and additional chairs were brought in and placed around the sides of the room. It was definitely a full house.
Connor nodded. He was as good as possible.
“Who gets this started?”
Connor turned as his great-aunt walked down the aisle and stood up front. “I’m Lucille Hillyard, and Connor is my great-nephew. I was the one who proposed this little get-together, so I’m going to ask that we get started. We’ll flip a coin—loser speaks first. Mayor Randall, please call it.”
“Heads.”
She flipped the coin and showed it to the mayor. “Tails. You speak first. And good luck to both candidates.” She sat down, and Connor took his place behind his podium, waiting for the mayor.
“Good evening, fellow citizens. Most of you know me. I’m Mayor Phillip Randall, and I’m running for reelection. Originally I had decided to retire, but Carlisle deserves a better choice than what was offered. This town has a history going back over two hundred fifty years, and in all that time, our town has stood for decency, family values, and hard work. It should not be used to try to further the agenda of a certain section of our town.” He turned to Connor, who did his best to appear calm, even while gripping the podium hard enough he was lucky he didn’t rip it apart. “You all know what I stand for. I’ve been doing this job for the past twenty years—”
“Is that why our parks aren’t being cared for and play structures are in bad repair? Even dangerous?” one of the ladies from the front row asked forcefully.
“And what about the roads that shake you apart to drive on them? East Street is a minefield,” someone else asked. It clearly broke the mayor’s train of thought, because he hesitated.
“That’s exactly right. We need a mayor who is concerned with what’s best for the town. Our parks are beautiful but woefully cared for. That needs to change. Our streets and the trees that line them need attention. Our schools must have our support, as well as the fire and police departments,” Connor interjected and then motioned to the mayor. “I’m sorry. It’s still your time.” Damn, that felt good.
The mayor cleared his throat. “I have a plan to fix all that, but what can’t be fixed are the moral implications of someone like my opponent in the mayor’s office. We don’t need someone using the office to further the national gay agenda.” He leaned forward. “We all know what he’s done. My opponent and his friend have corrupted the garden club into producing a gay-themed calendar. I’m not sure, but it’s my impression that the only one making money on that calendar is him.”
There was the baseless, nebulous accusation that Connor had been expecting from him. Tout something false until people started to believe it.
A murmur went through the crowd, but Connor kept himself calm even though he wanted to rip the lying snake’s lips off.
“Is this the kind of leadership we want here? Is this the kind of example we want for our children?” He almost sounded like a preacher working up his sermon. “I don’t think so.”
Connor took a deep breath. “Good evening. I’m Connor Hillyard, and I have never held political office before. Currently I am an assistant professor of history at Dickinson College—and no, there will not be a quiz at the end of the evening.” A titter of laughter went through the crowd. “But there will be a test… and that test will show the character of the people of Carlisle. The results will be available on election night.” He took a deep breath. “I am running because I want to do what’s best for the people of Carlisle. I have a history of community service, as demonstrated by a number of factors, including the garden club calendar. All images and time spent producing the calendar were donated. No one in the calendar is getting anything other than a calendar for their time or the images—whatever the mayor might think .” He figured no more need be said. “It was strictly a service to a group who does a great deal for our community.”
“But the pictures are disgusting,” someone called.
Connor didn’t let it rattle him. “That’s your opinion, and as a citizen of this community, you are entitled to that, as we all are. But I have to ask, have you looked at the calendar? From what I understand, nearly ten thousand people have. At least that’s the number of orders that have been placed. And the proceeds from that will fund scholarships and the flower baskets that hang downtown, will help beautify our parks, and will light up the square at Christmas—things all of us will enjoy.” He stepped down from behind the podium to get closer to people.
“But you have no experience. You said so yourself,” a man commented from the center of the room.
“True. But I’m a student of history, and that means I’m an expert at studying what has been done right and wrong so we can learn from it.” He continued on to detail his plans for the town and what his priorities were. Connor loved the interaction and answered question after question.
“What about the mayor’s moral accusations?” a gray-haired gentleman asked. He had come in with the mayor’s group of folks, and his gaze was intense.
“Morals are about right and wrong. Let me put it to you. Was I wrong to do the calendar and help my great-aunt and keep her ninety-year-old garden club from folding? Was it wrong to support scholarship programs and the rest of their work? If not, then what’s the morality issue? Other than the mayor doesn’t like it. He’s entitled to his opinion, just like everyone else, but when he guides the town by those opinions, it shuts some people out and marginalizes others. That isn’t what we should be doing. This town needs everyone. If we want to make it better, then we have to work together, not tear each other apart.” He glared at the mayor for a moment and then turned his gaze back to the room.
“There had to be other ways. There was no need for you to corrupt the old people of the garden club,” the mayor spat.
“Now you see here,” Judy from the garden club said. “I’m a garden club member, and I thought Lucille had lost her mind when she proposed this. I honestly did. I didn’t think this sort of thing was good for the club, and I wondered if it was even proper. But….” She wagged her finger at the mayor. “How dare you insinuate that we can’t think for ourselves and can be ‘corrupted’?” She made air quotes, and her tone rang with disdain. “I am more than capable of making my own decisions, and so is everyone else in the club.” Twenty ladies, mostly from the front, stood up. “As I said, I thought we were crazy. But I was wrong. Those images are beautiful. They are expressions of love and gorgeous flowers, period.” She was a small, frail woman, but in that moment, she might as well have been a knight in shining armor. “Now let’s get back to what’s really important—the business of figuring out who our next mayor is going to be.” She picked up her cane and began moving back through the room, stepping slowly toward the door.
“Judy…,” Connor said.
She stopped and turned around. “I don’t need to stay any longer. I know who will do his best for our community and who I’ll vote for.” She turned and left the room, the door closing behind her.
Connor blinked, and it took a few seconds for him to get his thoughts together. “I don’t think I can follow that,” he commented. A snicker went through the room, and he glanced at the mayor and then turned back to the assembled group to answer more of their questions.
“YOU WERE amazing,” Sterling said as soon as they left the town hall. “I don’t think the mayor knew what hit him.”
Connor nodded. “I have to agree. He came prepared with his argument and positions, and we turned them back at him. Once that happened, he had nothing else left and looked like an intolerant fool. I still have some work to do in a number of areas. I can speak to people, but I need to determine the budgetary impact of what I want to do and figure out how that can be accomplished. I know that what I want is possible, but I’m not going to promise something I can’t deliver. There are things that are critical to handle right away.”
“Connor,” the deputy mayor called as he hurried up behind them. “You spoke about the critical defects at some of the play areas. Do you have a list? The council members want to make sure those repairs are made immediately.” He stopped.
“Of course. I’ll email you the list as soon as I get home.” Connor introduced Weston and Sterling.
“You slayed it,” Weston said. “Maybe now we can get some real leadership.” He thanked him and turned back toward Borough Hall, and Sterling and Connor continued on their way home. It was still a while before the election, and there was a lot to do, but it seemed he was already having an impact.
“You’re doing great already.” Sterling took his hand. “The calendar is a success, and you’re well on your way to being elected mayor. It seems the things we set out to do are coming to fruition.”
“Yes.” Connor didn’t mention that Sterling needed to find another project that he was excited about. Sterling went to work each day, but Connor didn’t see any of the spark, the creative energy that he’d had when they had been shooting the calendar. He smiled and seemed content, even happy when they were together, but Connor sensed there was something missing, and he didn’t know what to do. Connor wanted Sterling to have the success that he was enjoying right now. But he knew that had to come from Sterling. As much as he wanted to, Connor couldn’t do it for him. “It does seem that way.”
Sterling tugged him closer, and they walked together to the back gate and into the yard. “We’ll go through the studio. I need to check on something before I go in for the night.” He unlocked the door, and Connor followed Sterling inside.
Connor wandered the space while Sterling did what he needed to do.
“I thought you decided that this wasn’t working for you.” He looked down at a table and water pitcher near a window. He picked up the jug. The setup looked like one of Vermeer’s paintings. None of this had been there the last time he’d been in the studio.
“I decided to give it another try.” Sterling seemed more resigned than excited. “I’ve gotten some interest based on others I’ve done.” He stood beside him, and Connor set the pitcher exactly where it had been.
Connor didn’t say anything, but the lack of enthusiasm in Sterling’s voice was telling. “Are you all set?”
“Yes.” Sterling led them through the studio to the house. They got a snack and something to drink before heading to bed. Maybe Connor was looking for trouble, but he couldn’t get past the idea that Sterling needed something exciting to do. Either that or excitement was going to find him.