31
S ettling Olivia’s former home onto its temporary foundations took hours. Not that she minded. Olivia drifted around the crowd’s perimeter, taking photographs of people and structures both. For the second evening in a row, the sky cleared as the sun descended. The light allowed Olivia to photograph the town’s structures with an odd mixture of clarity and compassion. The fire engines and emergency vehicles gleamed with a weary determination, or so it seemed. She pulled a chair from the fire station and settled at the point where the station’s cement yard met the street. A few minutes passed, then her presence melted into the background. She used an adjustable telephoto lens, which allowed her to take in the entire vista, or narrow her focus, draw in tight, and shoot faces.
All the while, her mind ranged far and wide, a happy tide of recollections and questions for which she had no answer. Nor in this one sweet moment did she need any.
An hour and a half later, Bailey found her still seated there. The light was a mere rosy hue above the western hills, and Olivia had drawn up her legs so her heels caught the chair’s edge. She propped the camera on her knees to keep it stable. Bailey waited as she photographed a family depositing a collection of yard ornaments. A young boy proudly handed a huge plastic reindeer to a woman who smiled through her weariness. The pile she managed was almost as tall as the station.
Bailey said, “We’re gathering for a meal at the diner. It might be a good idea if you join us.”
“Great. I’m starving.” She needed a minute to unlimber her legs. It felt better than good, having been so involved in taking photographs that she had ignored her growing discomfort. “Where’s Elena?”
“Playing unpaid assistant.” She waited as Olivia stowed her gear and shouldered the case. “Finding the others. Ordering them to drop everything and come now. Bossing adults is a job Elena was made for.”
“Others?”
“Everyone who matters. Porter. Charlie. Gleason. Berto. Emilia. Maud.” A minute hesitation, then, “Dillon.”
They did not speak again until they entered the police station’s parking area and Olivia deposited her camera case. As she closed the trunk, Bailey asked, “How has it been coming home?”
“Amazingly nice. I’ve found friends when I needed them most.” She fell into step beside Bailey. “Before you showed up, I was remembering something I hadn’t thought about in years.”
“Terrible things, memories,” Bailey said.
“Not this time.” The light was dim now, the streetlights still out. The evening star shone astonishingly bright in the rain-washed sky. “Dillon and I had broken up. Again. Totally furious with each other. As usual. Then the anger faded, and I missed him so much.” Olivia pretended not to hear the mayor’s shaky breath and went on. “I couldn’t stand being alone, so I walked up the hill. His father was there by himself, toking on his bong. So I climbed higher and found his grandmother standing where the boundary wall met the street. Dillon was working in the vineyard with his grandad. She must have seen me coming, and walked out to meet me.”
“Where you two could talk and Dillon wouldn’t hear.”
“Exactly.” They stopped where the diner’s open rear door illuminated the lane. “I braced myself for the lady to tell me I should walk away. Leave her grandson in peace.” It was Olivia’s turn to take a hard breath. “I almost wish she had.”
Claire chose that moment to emerge from the kitchen and say, “Bailey, they’re all here.”
“Tell them we’ll need a minute.” When Claire retreated, Bailey said, “Go on.”
“She said Dillon’s nature was potent and dangerous both. A sad and restless spirit was hidden beneath his wild energy and electric eyes. A potent mix, was the way she put it.” Revisiting that moment was so intense, Olivia found it necessary to wipe her eyes. “She said it would either destroy him or carry him to greatness.”
“Everything that happened didn’t destroy Dillon,” Bailey said.
“Far from it,” Olivia agreed.
“It brought him home.” Bailey studied her. “He’s told us he doesn’t want to leave. I believe him.”
“That’s not the issue here. At least, that’s not why I mentioned it.” Olivia pointed to the diner. “Right now he’s sitting in there, coming to terms with who he is. Needing you to help him heal.”
“Not you. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes, but that’s not the point either. Sooner or later he’s going to be made whole. I think this new Dillon is bound to grow into what his grandmother saw all those years ago.”
Bailey nodded slowly. “Greatness.”
“How do you feel about that? Right now you’re probably worried about him leaving Miramar again.”
“I am. Yes.” Bailey breathed. “A lot.”
“What if he loves you enough to find peace in staying?” Olivia gave that a moment, then continued. “You’re where you are because you want to lead. Can you be comfortable standing alongside a man who is also a force of nature?” Olivia liked how the woman remained silent. Thoughtful. Taking her words in deep. She could see it in Bailey’s gaze. Finally she said, “Maybe we should join the others.”
* * *
While they ate, the clouds gathered and rain fell. Not hard, more a persistent drizzle cast against the diner’s windows by a fitful breeze. Everyone save Olivia watched the shift in weather. She used that as a chance to study them. The new-old friends who had done so much to shelter her through storms. They looked weary, strong, determined. All save Elena, who sat next to Dillon and positively glowed. Every now and then she leaned in close and whispered words meant only for him. He always responded with a different kind of smile, one so tender it lanced Olivia’s heart.
Gleason noticed, of course. The older man was seated next to Olivia, and watched her watching them. “I go to sleep one night, and the next morning it seems like the world has shifted on its axis.”
“Welcome to my life,” Olivia said.
“So, you and Dillon . . .”
“Everybody’s asking me that.”
“Hardly a surprise. And?”
“We are friends for life.”
“Friends,” he repeated, his voice a soft, bearlike rumble. “Friends.”
“Exactly.” She decided now was a good time to change the subject. “Is there a particular reason why you’re here?”
“I’ve been on the town council for a while. They recently appointed me deputy mayor.” He offered a rare smile. “Everybody with more sense had already run for the hills.”
Bailey chose that moment to tap her fork on the side of her plate. “If it’s okay, I’d like to get started.” When she had everyone’s attention, she went on. “I’ve had two conversations with the governor’s chief of staff regarding their visit tomorrow. There’s good news and bad news. You need to help me decide which is which.”
The diner was less than half full. Patrons at other tables watched and listened. Claire stood by the side wall, close to where Arnaud leaned on the counter and observed through the central window. Olivia suspected Bailey had chosen the setting for the purpose of getting the word out. The mayor went on. “The last couple of disasters, the feds were heavily criticized for taking too long to write the checks. FEMA has been under severe pressure to accelerate their process. They have decided the state’s auditor will serve on point. Soon as he okays a budget request, FEMA will write the check. The feds will send in auditors to check our progress and spending. But Ransom Bates holds the key to getting what we need.”
“Bad news,” Gleason said.
“Terrible,” Porter agreed.
“The man is not our friend,” Emilia said.
“Point of order,” Charlie said. “It’s always a pleasure to see Lizzy—”
“Yuck. ”
“But why is your daughter here?”
“Elena is playing a very important role,” Bailey replied.
“Is she, now.”
“Absolutely. This is an official-unofficial meeting of the town council. Elena’s job is to keep notes and write it all up.”
“Funny,” Charlie said. “I don’t see a pad or pen.”
Elena tapped the side of her head. “Click. Recording.”
Dillon laughed out loud.
“Boyd Harrow, the governor’s top guy, is doing what he can to protect us,” Bailey went on. “The governor’s PR team wanted a photo op that shows him working on Christmas Eve, personally helping one of the afflicted towns in their hour of need. And so forth.”
“Smart,” Emilia said. “Bringing in the top dog, letting the auditor know his bosses are watching.”
Porter corrected, “Long as we give the governor and his PR folks what they want.”
“That’s our job in a nutshell,” Bailey agreed. “He and his team will show up here tomorrow afternoon. Our job is to give them a quick sweep of the worst-hit areas, the points that are in dire need of the feds’ help . . .” She stopped because Dillon stared at his plate, shaking his head. “What?”
He looked up. “Nothing.”
“Go ahead and say it.”
“I’m the guest here. I really shouldn’t—”
Maud snapped, “You’ve somehow managed to crawl your way back into my good graces. Don’t go wrecking your chances to stay there.”
When he hesitated, Bailey added, “We’re listening.” “Okay, so here’s the thing. The governor’s team is expecting us to show how Miramar is hurting.”
“Which it is,” Maud said.
“But they already know that. It’s why they’re coming. What if we tried to show them also how Miramar is healing ?” He looked around the table, went on. “Olivia’s been working on before-and-after photos. What if we use that as a starting point? Talk about our resilience, our determination to make things right? ”
The mayor’s daughter laughed, the sound bell-like. Bailey nodded, though she shared none of her daughter’s mirth. “This has promise.”
Arnaud surprised them all by speaking through the kitchen window, “You’re saying we should show them Miramar’s heart.”
“Why we love this place so much,” Claire agreed. “Despite everything.”
“I’m liking this,” Porter said. He leaned back and inspected the ceiling. “I’m liking it a lot.”
Bailey pushed her chair a fraction away from the table and studied the others.
“Maybe we should start by showing them the ocean walk,” Dillon went on.
“Nothing’s going to make a better photo-op,” Porter agreed, addressing the ceiling.
“Bring him back to the fire station,” Gleason said. “Walk him through our line of before-and-after photos.”
Emilia demanded, “Can you get that ready in time?”
“Oh absolutely,” Gleason replied. “We’re already halfway there. Right, Olivia?”
“We don’t need to show him everything,” Berto said. “This isn’t an inspection for the auditors.”
And then suddenly everyone was talking. A great heave of excited planning. Olivia went heads down with Gleason, making notes of places she needed to start shooting at dawn. Then she looked up to find Bailey still watching Dillon.