26. Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Six
Grady
I left Maggie’s house when she headed to the pharmacy for the day. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so at peace, so sure I was on the right path. As soon as I got home, I went straight to my keyboard. Creativity rushed out of me like a burst water main. By the time the clock struck noon, I’d written three songs, and I was loath to leave the house.
I was supposed to meet Kelvin for lunch in half an hour. Tearing myself from the songwriting process would take a monumental effort. Years had gone by without this blast of creative power, and I’d forgotten how addictive it was. When the words and melody flowed like this, a song wasn’t a puzzle or challenge to be solved; instead the rush was impossible to stop. I had to get the song out. Writing wasn’t a choice.
Kelvin texted me when I was fifteen minutes late. Probably a record in patience for him. Clearing the message from my screen, I opened the dental office door. The glaring whiteness made me pause for a moment to let my eyes adjust. Kelvin liked the simplicity and cleanliness of the all-white space. I found the shade boring and too cold.
On Thursdays, Kelvin ordered in lunch while we went over various town procedures and bylaws, so I didn’t look like a complete idiot in the election debates. Maggie hadn’t so much as hinted at a debate, but Kelvin was sure we’d have one.
After last night, I wasn’t sure I wanted to do any of this mayor malarkey. I wanted to sink into Maggie again and again and forget the rest of the world existed.
All the other employees were already gone for lunch. Kelvin ran a tight ship, and they were rarely behind schedule.
“You lock the front door?” He shuffled some papers behind his desk.
“You bet.” I sank into the chair opposite Kelvin. There was a sandwich on the glossy white surface, and I unwrapped it to take a large bite. I’d been so busy writing I’d forgotten to eat.
“Rumor has it Maggie Sullivan’s SUV was parked overnight at your house last week. I wasn’t going to say anything, but someone called me this morning to say they’d seen your truck parked at her place last night… and this morning.”
I stopped chewing and eyed Kelvin across the desk. “So?” The whole town could mind their own damn business. Any gossip about me, I could handle, but the idea of people talking about her raised my hackles. This was the part of small towns I hated. Everyone thought everyone’s business was their own.
“Wondered if there was anything you wanted to tell your campaign manager?”
I wiped my mouth with a napkin and then took a long swig from the reusable water bottle Kelvin kept for me. “It’s none of my campaign manager’s business. But if my friend wants to ask, I might tell him.”
“I think I could probably guess.” With his hand, Kelvin made a circling gesture around me. “There’s some interesting energy coming off you today. Keyed up, but also weirdly relaxed. You finally forgive yourself for having the hots for your brother’s girl and tell her how you feel?”
Taking another bite of my sandwich, I contemplated Kelvin’s words. He might not have gotten what happened right, but he’d gotten pretty damn close. “I had it all wrong about her, about her and Trent. About a lot of things.”
Kelvin’s lips twitched. “You don’t say.”
“Yeah, yeah. You told me right from the get-go I was being a dick for no reason.”
“Can we agree I should run your life? Would have saved you a few months of wasted effort in the wrong place.”
“No,” I said, holding up a finger, “no, we cannot agree on that. You got this mayor campaign to run. Which, honestly, I’m thinking I should just abandon.”
“Seems about right.” He grabbed his own sandwich and unwrapped it. “You tell Maggie yet?”
A flush heated my cheeks. “Uh,” I said. “Not yet. I’ve been mulling it over.”
“Since when? This morning?”
“I spent all morning writing. No time for thinking about this mayor gig.” I flipped a coin across the back of my fingers, my sandwich done. My mind was divided in three: Maggie, a half-written song, and this conversation. “The last week or so, I guess I’ve been unsure of what I’m doing. I didn’t go into the election for the right reasons.”
Kelvin chewed and appeared to be considering something. I swigged my water and waited. What wisdom would Kelvin impart? Our friendship worked because we didn’t think alike in the slightest. It was good for getting a new perspective—at least it was good when I was ready for that conversation.
“What do you think Maggie will say when you admit that?”
I was mid-drink when the implication hit, and my water slid down the wrong spot. I coughed, almost choking on the realization. “She’ll think I’m an asshole.”
“You’ve caused her a lot of extra time, effort, and money to then throw up your hands and say, you win .”
I couldn’t help the smirk that rose to my lips. She’d won a few times last night, and she hadn’t complained.
“The mayor job might not matter to you, but I guarantee it matters to her,” Kelvin said, dousing my memories.
Whether or not Maggie realized it, I’d run for mayor to fuck with her, and that made me the shittiest person alive. “You think I should see the election through to the end.”
“You want to back off some campaign things, fine. But backing out? If I was her, I’d be pissed. It’s a hollow victory for her after the grief you’ve caused.”
Kelvin was right. She liked to win. So did I. But I’d never really wanted to win the mayor race. Maggie should hate me, but I was so fucking glad she didn’t.
Now, I had a bigger and better prize in mind than being mayor of Little Falls.
“Maybe I can float removing myself past her and see how she reacts,” I suggested.
“Be prepared for cannon fire to sink that ship.” He replied to a text on his phone and then sighed. “Trent okay with you and Maggie getting together?”
“As long as I don’t fuck things up, I think ‘okay’ is the right word there.”
“So, you’re sticking around here no matter what?”
“That’s the plan.” I nodded. “Write some songs, walk my dogs, organize fundraisers. A jack of all trades if you will.”
“That’ll be enough for you?”
The lure of the producer gigs my agent had dangled rose to the surface. The way I felt about songwriting today, I couldn’t imagine writing ever getting old. But I knew that the well could dry up or I might long for something different. Becoming a producer was the right career step for someone like me, who embraced variety.
The only constant in my life since leaving Little Falls almost eleven years ago had been change. I’d never stopped moving. In the last twenty-four hours, Maggie and I had worked out our differences, and I hadn’t had a chance to really dig into Kelvin’s question. Would being in Little Falls be enough for me? I’d meant what I’d said to her. Wherever she was, that’s where I wanted to be.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I want to try.”
Last night, after she’d fallen asleep draped across me, I’d wondered if I’d been running from my feelings for her the whole time. Perhaps I’d spent the last twelve years restless for her , not for places or experiences. Her absence had made me roam. All along what I’d been seeking had been in Little Falls; I just hadn’t known how to get her back, get this feeling back. Honestly, I’d never even considered it a possibility.
“Well,” Kelvin said, tossing his bunched-up sandwich wrapper toward the garbage can and missing. “Until you get whatever this is worked out with her, I say we keep the campaign running in a low-key mode. Status quo.”
“Yeah, okay. You got some shit for me to take home to read?”
Kelvin pointed to a stack on the edge of the desk. “You still going to do that? Low-key means we’re kinda giving up without giving up.”
With a shrug, I rose and grabbed the stapled stack from the corner of the desk. “I figure one way or another, I’m going to end up involved in mayor business. Maybe I can actually be helpful to Maggie going forward instead of the thorn in her side.”
“You’re growing up, man. Right before my eyes. Course, I always knew if anyone could make a guy strive for their potential, it was Maggie.” Kelvin walked me to the front door.
The truth of his statement struck me. Maggie’s influence had been tremendous for both me and Trent. She’d taught Trent to read and had inadvertently given him the confidence to build a business. An illegal one, sure, but it had been something Trent had felt proud of. Now, she was inspiring me to write again. She was the key to this flood of creativity. If I managed to string together enough songs, this album would be the opposite of my first one. Where the first had been a diatribe against her, this one would be a love letter.
God, I’d been such a fool.
As I walked toward her pharmacy, I was determined to deliver a coffee and gauge how she was feeling about last night. There was no doubt in my mind about how I felt.
My phone vibrated, yanking me back to the present. My agent. For once, I didn’t want to avoid his call. I hoped Jack would ask the dreaded question. Maybe I’d tell him I’d started writing for myself again. The dam had broken. Not that Jack knew there’d been a dam.
“Jack,” I said. “Got work for me?”
“I do.” His self-conscious laugh traveled the phone line. “Not sure how you’re going to feel about it. The label wants you to come to LA for a producing gig. It’ll be a trial of sorts. You prove yourself here, you’ll get more work, more opportunities.”
I stopped walking. The leaves on the trees had turned from green to shades of gold, red, and brown, and were falling around me. October was a pretty time of year to be in Little Falls, which was one of the things I’d missed on my travels. There was nothing quite like the fall colors. I’d pulled this seasonal vibe into a song this morning—the reddish-brown leaves reminded me of Maggie’s hair. “When do they want an answer?”
“As soon as possible. Don’t they always. You can take a week or so, if you want. I can hold them off that long. You’d probably need to be in LA for six months to a year, start to finish. You do well, maybe another stretch after.”
“Six months to a year,” I repeated as the wind whipped past, stirring the leaves at my feet. My gut reaction was to say ‘yes.’ I hadn’t been back to LA since my Center Stage days, and it’d be fun to explore the city again. For once in my life, I couldn’t think only of myself. “I’ll need the whole week. I gotta talk this through with a few people.”
“Putting down roots already?” There was surprise in his voice. “This about the mayor thing?”
“Something like that.” I ran my free hand through my hair and walked toward Maggie’s pharmacy. Before I said anything to her, I needed to know where I stood on this opportunity. Today didn’t feel like a good day for life-changing decisions.
If Maggie was as tired as I was, she’d appreciate a coffee and not the added complication. We were sorting out our differences, and whether I wanted this job wasn’t a discussion we needed to have today. Maybe not for a few days. We needed time before I sprung this on her. The job complicated everything, but I couldn’t deny that I wanted it.
“Look, Grady. I’m not trying to pressure you, but I want you to understand exactly what this offer means. You’ll have a lot more freedom and control down the road. More money, obviously. Your old label is the only one asking. If you turn this down, I can’t guarantee you’ll get this opportunity again anytime soon, maybe never.”
“Nothing in New York?” At least there, I’d be a few hours from Little Falls by car rather than across the country by plane.
“I asked. I knew you’d prefer it there. That’s not what they’re offering. Not right now.”
I sighed and looked up at the clear blue sky. The wind came up the street in a whoosh, rustling the leaves and reminding me that winter was coming. I hadn’t missed the deluge of New York snow. The changing weather also meant the election was coming to a close. At the start of November, the town would be headed to the polls. This offer would give me a better reason to withdraw.
“I’ll let you know as soon as I get my head wrapped around exactly what this means,” I said.
“No more than a week.”
After I ended the call, I leaned against the wall outside Kathy’s Café where I normally bought coffee. I was torn about whether to mention the offer to Maggie. If I didn’t take the job, it wouldn’t matter, anyway. Unless I decided I wanted to go, I didn’t need to tell her about the opportunity. What we had last night felt fragile, and I’d do anything to keep from breaking it.
I grabbed two coffees and wandered to her storefront. Inside, the pharmacy was bustling. I balanced the coffees on top of each other and opened the door. She looked up from the customer in front of her and grinned.
Relief rushed through me. No regrets. I hadn’t realized I’d been a little on edge after talking to Kelvin. She’d been in such a hurry this morning I hadn’t been able to assess her feelings, and my two conversations had thrown me off a bit.
I waded through the customers shopping and waiting for their prescriptions to reach her at the counter. I slid the steaming hot coffee across.
The memory of the night before seemed to play between us, thickening the air with things we wouldn’t say here. I couldn’t wait to get her alone. Just my luck, her place was busy today. I’d passed by lots of times when there had been hardly anyone around. As I’d written this morning, various scenarios had sprung to mind. Setting her on the high counter at the back, pushing up her skirt, and giving her a reminder of how good it was between us had been high on my list of priorities for today. I’d have to save that one for another day.
She picked up the coffee and smelled it, smiling across the top. “My favorite hazelnut. I could get used to this.”
I returned her smile, loving the ease between us. “Me too.”
All thoughts of going to LA vanished from my head.