Chapter 73
Well, guys, we did all we could,” Dot said to Fletcher and Rose at five in the morning on Election Day.
Senator Lopez was in Milwaukee that morning, trying to drive up the Democratic vote totals in their biggest precincts.
Governor Stone was in Detroit, then he’d hit Philadelphia before meeting back with Lopez in Atlanta, where they’d watch the returns together.
The Cedar Falls For the Win team all wore royal-blue cotton sweaters with red trim and white “FTW” lettering. Kitty Bell had made them for her team and all the volunteers of the office.
“We left it all on the field,” Fletcher said. “That’s a football reference, Dot.”
“Oh, really? I thought it was some farming term I’d yet to encounter.” She playfully punched him on the arm.
“I’m so glad you two were here this cycle. You made it fun, and your ideas helped make this race as close as it is. It’s been an honor,” Rose said, wiping a tear from her eye.
“Hey, don’t cry yet, we can still win this thing!” Fletcher said, handing Rose a coffee.
“Oh, I think we could win. I’ll just miss you,” she said. “I’ll be lonely without you.”
“We’ll stay in touch, Rose. Besides, I can’t wait to have you on my new podcast. Gotta have my best girl on to explain to people how politics really works.
” Fletcher flattered Rose but meant what he said.
He’d been all set to move to New York and had even come up with a name for his new podcast: Left Unsupervised.
The plan was for it to air right after Thanksgiving, and he had major funding to help build an audience.
He described his podcast as smart politics disguised with humor.
But plans had changed. While Dot had been offered the job with the American Progress PAC in D.C.
, she’d turned it down and instead recommended Fletcher for the role.
She suggested they could get him to take the job if they let him do the podcast in addition to running communications.
They ended up loving the idea, so instead of moving to New York City where Dot planned to be, Fletcher switched gears and had rented an English basement apartment on Capitol Hill.
Dot admired his flexibility—but she knew that D.C.
wasn’t for her. She was a creature of New York.
And whether either of them would split the 20 percent of Kitty’s win bonus remained up in the air. At this point, Dot thought she’d need it as a bridge since she didn’t have a job to go back to in the city. But she wasn’t counting on it. First, they had to win.
“Are you sure a seventy-something gray-haired grandma is what you really need?” Rose laughed off the idea.
“I’m positive,” he said. “And Dot, you’ll be a frequent guest, too.”
Pretending to be a carnival barker, Dot said, “Left Unsupervised—the best podcast you’ll ever hear. Give it a like, give it a share! I promise I won’t miss an episode.” She raised her coffee to offer a toast. “Here’s to us. No matter what happens today, we’ll always have each other.”
Their favorite mixed set of ceramic cups met, and they each took a sip.
“Shall we get to work?” Rose said.
“Let’s do it,” Fletcher said.
Dot led the way; it was time to make sure their get-out-the-vote plan was executed perfectly.
“Let’s take a pic for Kitty.” Fletcher whistled and got everyone gathered outside of the war room. They lined up with the tallest in back.
“I’ve been in front my entire life,” Rose joked.
There was a mirror in front of them. Fletcher held up his phone and took several shots from different angles, proving his Gen Z photographer status.
“You’ll make someone a good Instagram boyfriend one day, Fletch,” Dot said.
“I aim to please. I just texted you a bunch. Want to send one to Kitty and then we can post it on social? Polls open in thirty minutes. I have to monitor turnout numbers for the northern precincts.”
“You bet.” Dot started to scroll through the photos, looking for the best one.
Then it hit her. “Oh my gosh!”
“What’s wrong?” Fletcher raced back.
“We can’t post any of these,” she said.
“Why? Who has their eyes closed? Rose!”
“It’s not that.” She handed him the phone. “What do you see?”
“I see all of us in our blue sweatshirts before dawn on Election Day.”
“Nothing else?”
“No. What am I missing?”
“Fletch, look closer. When we’re standing in front of the mirror, the sweaters don’t have the initials for ‘For the Win’—the reflection turns it around. So they say, ‘WTF’ as in . . .”
“Oh my gosh. Holy crap, Dot,” he said, covering his mouth and laughing. “Thank goodness you caught that. We’d have never heard the end of it.”
“Can you imagine? We’d be the laughingstock of the campaign trail.” She was doubled over laughing. “What do you say I just delete these?”
“Well. Delete all but one. We may need it for comic relief in the future.”
“Or blackmail.” She winked at him and they started laughing all over again.
MEANWHILE, JOE TAYLOR called Mary and asked if she could meet up with him and Grace at Flour Power that morning.
“I have something to share with you. And I want to do it in person. Do you mind coming over around ten?”
“I’ll be there.” She set an alarm to make sure she left the house fifteen minutes before ten so that she wouldn’t be late. She hoped Mr. Taylor didn’t have bad news about the farm.
At Flour Power, Mary waved to Mimi and got in line behind the Taylors.
“Oh, there you are! What can we get you?”
“Cappuccino would be great,” she said.
“What, no pumpkin spice for you? I thought all the young women liked that stuff.”
“Not me, sir. Hard pass. Just give me an old-fashioned cappuccino, and I’m happy.”
Joe ordered their drinks while Mary and Grace took over one of the bistro tables near the bakery’s window. When Joe arrived and passed out the coffees, Mary dispensed with the small talk.
“Mr. Taylor, the suspense is killing me. What did you find out?” she asked.
“Well, Mary, I wanted to be able to look you in the eye when I told you how much Grace and I have appreciated your help in this matter. The farm means the world to us, and to our boys.”
“Yes, I know. I admire that about you. You’re determined to keep the family farm in your hands. Is it going to work?”
Grace reached over and placed her hand on top of one of Mary’s, and Joe did the same to her other one. They squeezed.
“Mary,” Joe said, “it worked. The government is backing off. The Agriculture Secretary, the guy I’ve known for years, said he heard about the law firm that didn’t register even though they’re working for Chinese companies.
The feds have decided to walk away and try to find another site.
They know the bad publicity to come from this would hurt the president and the governor and scare off the investors.
So, as of now, it’s over. And the farm remains in our hands. ”
“Oh, this is amazing!” Mary jumped up and hugged them both. “I’m so happy for you!”
Just then, the door to Flour Power opened and Jake and Tommy walked in.
“Hey, Dad, Mom, Mary. What’s this all about?” Tommy asked. “We came as soon as we could.”
“Sit down, boys. I’ve got good news to share.” They were one seat short, so Mary gestured that she’d perch on Jake’s lap while his dad repeated his story.
“And we’ve got Mary to thank,” he said. “Grace, do you have the gift?”
“Right here,” she said, handing Mary a large bag decorated in black and white, resembling one of their dairy cows.
“Oh, I didn’t do anything,” Mary said. “I just found a thread to pull.” She gratefully accepted the gift bag.
“You were the key,” Joe said. “We think you’re brilliant. And we’re going to throw a party at the Sin Bin for you, Dot, and Harper the night before you leave. Grace and I are handling all the details. Is that okay with you, Tommy?”
“It’ll be an honor, yes, sir. I’m so relieved, Dad. Do you think I can build Alotto Gelato now?”
“I think we can talk about it, son.” Joe Taylor laughed easily, something they’d all missed these last few months.
“Go on, Mary, let’s see your present,” Grace said.
Mary opened the card first and read it aloud, as she’d been taught by her Nonna.
“Dear Mary, without you, we may have lost the farm. We are so grateful for your generosity in helping us—it took New York to save us here in Cedar Falls. We hope that you’ll wear this when you’re back in Manhattan and think of us often. Love, the Taylors.”
Mary reached into the bag, pulled out a large box, and took off the lid. Wrapped in tissue was a pair of cherry-red Hunter boots.
“Water- and mud-proof?” Mary asked Joe.
“Exactly,” he said.
“There’s one more thing,” Grace said.
At the bottom of the bag was another large tissue-wrapped parcel. Inside was a traditional Hamilton-brown Carhartt barn coat. So very Cedar Falls—so not New York. Still, she was touched.
“That’s more appropriate for feeding the chickens than that beautiful black leather coat you wore the first day we met,” Grace said.
“I’ve learned some valuable lessons—about life, as well as farm fashion. I love this so much,” Mary said, putting the coat on and flinging off her flats to try on her new boots. “I’m really going to turn heads on Bleeker!”
Joe got his iPhone ready and took her photo as she stood next to Jake, their arms around each other, with Mary nearly clinging to him.
“We thought you could take a bit of the farm with you when you are back in the Big Apple,” he said, snapping a pic.
“That’s so kind of you. I’m really overwhelmed,” she said, the tears spilling over—and they weren’t just for the Taylors’ kind gesture.
She was crying at the thought of saying goodbye.
But she didn’t have a choice.
Did she?