Epilogue #2
“And I think I speak for all when I say that this is clearly a failure of our leadership. And for that reason, I move to recall Mayor Gabriel Harding.”
My gut plummeted. Recall Gabe? What the hell was going on?
Gabe’s eye twitched.
“On behalf of the citizens of this town, I have drafted a petition to recall the mayor.”
“Bitsy,” Gabe interjected.
“Too late,” she snapped. “Check the bylaws. We the citizens have a right to recall the mayor with a town-wide election thirty days after a petition is certified. We need one hundred signatures.”
She gestured to the back of the room where several Maplewood Mafia ladies stood behind a folding table. “You can line up to sign my petition in the back of the room after the meeting.”
There was no waiting until after the meeting. Folks all over the room stood, gathering their things, and shuffled toward the ladies and their clipboards.
“You can’t do this.” Aunt Suzie stood and put her hands on her hips. “This is absurd.”
“Yes we can.” Bitsy glared, though between one blink and the next, her expression morphed into a fake smile.
“Also, on behalf of the economic committee, I want you to know we are doing everything we can to fix this. We’ve hired a seasoned crisis manager to help us navigate the disaster caused by this complete failure of leadership. ”
She looked to the far corner of the room where a woman stood.
She wore high leather boots with an ice pick stiletto heel and a black trench coat. She looked like Carmen Sandiego if she had a side hustle as a hitwoman.
I squinted, surveying her. She looked vaguely familiar.
“Sabrina Monroe,” Bitsy said with dramatic flair. “Here to save the town.”
Heads turned and chatter erupted. The woman stood perfectly still, completely unfazed under the scrutiny of an entire town.
“I’m gonna go get the kids,” Celine said, standing up.
“I’ll come with you.” I needed a break from the chaos to wrap my mind around the last five minutes.
“No. You should go talk to Gabe.” She placed a hand on my shoulder. “He needs you.”
My cousin, the usually unflappable mayor, had never looked so shaken. He loved this town more than anyone I’d ever met. More than Bitsy Bramble and her judgmental bullshit. He prided himself on leading us in a way that served us all well.
I nodded. “I’ll meet you guys outside.” With that, I fought the exiting crowd, heading for Gabe.
His tie was crooked and his jaw was clenched tight. Gabe who’d talked us out of speeding tickets as kids, who could calm even the most irate old lady during a debate about parking permits.
“Mr. Mayor.”
Sabrina strode up at the same time I did. That was when her identity hit me. I hadn’t laid eye on her in probably twenty years, but it all came rushing back. Maplewood’s prodigal daughter, the one who bested Gabe on every test. Their debates and science fair showdowns were legendary.
This version of her was all dark lipstick and venom.
She tilted her head, feigning concern. “Looks like you’re having a bad night.”
“Last night was a lot worse,” he said, pinning her with a glare.
The two of them stood there, staring at one another, like bulls about to charge, for an uncomfortably long moment.
What the hell had happened last night?
“This isn’t a game, Monroe,” he said. “This is people’s lives. You don’t give a shit about this town.”
“Of course it’s not a game. This is a small town full of people who deserve better than a man who confuses being liked with being effective.”
She leaned in slightly, her expensive perfume wafting around us. “You’ve always been protected. By the teachers, your parents, the voters. Sweet Gabriel could never do wrong. That was always the narrative.”
She lifted her chin and arched a brow.
“And I’m so good at rewriting narratives.”
Her words land with a thud.
Gabe was nearly vibrating with anger. “You’ll only cause more damage.”
She laughed. “Seems to me like you’ve done enough of that already.
I came here for some rest and relaxation, yet now, because of your idiocy, this has become a working vacation.
But don’t worry, I’ll save the day. I always do.
And if it means getting to watch you suffer?
If it means your blinding mediocrity will finally be exposed?
” She clapped, her dark red nails gleaming in the fluorescent light. “Even better.”
With a humph, she turned.
Before she could walk away, Gabe snapped, “Nothing’s changed since high school, Monroe. You’re still a nasty, ruthless opportunist.”
She turned slowly, a smile spreading across her face. “And you still think I give a shit about your opinion.”
With that, she strutted to the door, stopping to hug and greet townspeople as if she wasn’t a viper in a Burberry coat.
“Take a breath,” I said.
Gabe looked like his brain had been deprived of oxygen for several minutes.
“We’ll get through this. The town will be okay.”
He shook his head. “It’s too late. I let everyone down.”
I gripped his shoulder. “You did not. And we’ll figure it out.”
With a slap on his back I guided him out the door, where the bonfire was starting up and townspeople were grouped together, nervously chatting. Logan rushed over, took one look at Gabe’s face, and handed him his beer.
After downing it in a few sips, Gabe pasted his usual smile on his face and smoothed his hair down. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen,” he admitted. “But I hate her.”
I frowned at him, surprised. My cousin didn’t hate anyone. He wasn’t capable. We’d shared a crib. I’d known him every day of my life. He was one of the good ones. He believed in people past the point of reason. He was a helper. A fixer.
“You don’t hate anyone,” I said carefully, shaken by this change in him.
He glowered as Sabrina walked by in the distance.
“Maybe she’s the exception.”