Chapter 26
Noah
M argo arrived bright and early this morning to go over our campaign tactics for the week. She believes Beckett is going to play dirty, and she’s just waiting for him to make his first move. But I think he’s already doing it. I watched him drop Paisley home last night. They sat in his car and talked for a good half-hour before she got out. He’s winning her over with his charm, and I don’t like it.
Margo’s laptop is set up on my kitchen table, and I’m sitting across from her, scrolling through my socials as I have my morning coffee. While she concentrates on what Beckett’s up to, I try and think like Paisley. She was up very early this morning. I know that can be normal for a florist, but she doesn’t visit the flower market on a Thursday, normally. I pull up her Instagram profile, telling myself this is for work. But I know it’s not. I’m becoming obsessed with knowing everything about her. And conveniently having the house next door, I can keep pretty close tabs, but sometimes my stalking has to take on more serious levels. Especially when I’m worried about her, after what happened with her dad yesterday. Part of me thought she would have reached out to me over it, looking for answers, but she got in late last night and went right to bed.
Her latest post is of her and Beckett posing with a plate of pancakes topped with a stick of butter and drizzled maple syrup. Her lips are red, her smile stunning as always. The backdrop is town square. “Paisley’s posting about some fundraiser breakfast Beckett’s hosting this morning in town square. Should we be fundraising as well? She has photos of Beckett rubbing shoulders with locals. Kissing babies and handing out flowers.” I show her my phone.
Unlike me, she seems unfazed and smiles sweetly. “Since you signed up, I’ve had an online store selling merchandise with your name and face on it.” She brings something up on her computer, and I look over her shoulder to see what she’s talking about; this is the first I’ve heard about it. “It’s doing really well. Not that I’m surprised. This town loves you.”
T-shirts adorned with my face, hats perched proudly atop heads, and bumper stickers decorating cars—it’s a whirlwind of support, almost feeling like a mini-brand in itself.
“In the first week of your campaign, we even had an anonymous benefactor swoop in with a substantial donation to back you,” she says with excitement.
“Is that... usual?” I inquire, a sense of unease creeping over me. Why didn’t she tell me about this earlier?
She gently touches my arm. “Not really, and since we’re up against the Prescotts and their media capabilities, there was no way I was declining. We need every bit of support we can get.”
“Right.”
“I have a donor dinner confirmed for Friday week as well; it’s going to be a grand affair, lots of high-profile guests. It’s going to put Paisley’s little breakfast to shame. Trust me, Noah. We have the edge when it comes to this stuff. I’ve been doing this job for a long time, and I know what I’m doing. Poor Paisley doesn’t know what she’s signed up for.” She scrolls through a few more of her images on Instagram then hands my phone back to me. “Remove her profile so you don’t have to see her posts. I’ll keep track of it for you.”
Delete her profile. Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Since she’s taken to ignoring me, this is all I have to keep tabs on her. “Are you hungry?” I ask, feeling peckish myself for a tasty treat, and Paisley’s pancakes sound like perfection this morning. If she will get close enough for me to have a taste.
Confused, Margo glances up at me, the pen she had tucked behind her ear falling to the table.
“I might take a walk through town. See if I can get us some breakfast?” I smile cheekily.
“Why do I feel like you’re about to cause some trouble, Noah?”
“No idea.” I’m not planning on causing trouble for anyone but Paisley. She thinks she can ignore me, can ignore her feelings that I know she still has. Well, I might just start showing up to every event she’s hosting. She can’t pretend I don’t exist forever.
With a sassy smile, she quickly snatches up her handbag. “I’ll come with you to make sure you don’t.”
As we cross the street and head toward town square, I can tell Margo is deep in thought. She’s been unusually quiet this morning. I know she’s working her butt off for me, and I appreciate it. I couldn’t do this without her. “Is there something I need to be concerned with?” I ask.
She glances at me, puzzled.
“You’re stuck in your head this morning.”
“Don’t worry about me, I just have a lot going on trying to get everything lined up for you. I want this all to be perfect. You have to win, you know. It’s important to this town. And there’s been some negative publicity regarding Dr. Whittaker’s actions toward you yesterday. It appears he has a backing of supporters ready to defend his behavior and vouch for his character. I, for one, think it’s disturbing, but this town can be stuck in its ways.”
I knew there would be backlash. Deception Bay had no idea what the doc had been up to. And they still don’t have the full story, but the information leaked to the cops about what he’s been up to might just get that ball rolling. “Why is it so important to you personally that we beat Beckett?”
She stops in front of me, smiling a little flirtatiously. She takes my tie in her hands. “I like you, Noah. I think you would make an excellent leader. And if I’m honest, I can’t stand Beckett.”
“Did you guys date or something?” I ask, not understanding her hostility to the guy.
She looks at me, horrified.
“Sorry, I thought that was the obvious choice.”
“We didn’t date, how low do you think my standards are? When I took this job with Mayor Micheals, I pledged to serve this town alongside of him, and I want what’s best for the town. That’s you.”
I look her over, still not convinced they didn’t date. “It’s not something more than that?”
She looks at me with a longing I’ve seen before. “No.” She blushes, and I know it is something more, but this isn’t to do with Beckett. She’s got a thing for me.
I run a hand through my hair, knowing this isn’t ideal. I need to keep this professional.
“What’s the deal with you and Beckett’s campaign manager, anyway.” Her eyes meet mine. “Every time her name is mentioned you get all flustered.”
“I don’t do flustered, sweetheart.” I laugh off her comment, not wanting to discuss this with her.
“Except you do around her. Don’t think I missed the look you gave her the other day. And I think Emerson was on to something at the rally. You have a history. And I, for one, am worried it will affect our campaign.” She looks up at me, her blue eyes searching mine for answers. Answers that have nothing to do with this campaign, so she won’t be getting any of them.
I adjust my posture and straighten my shoulders, trying to work out what to say. “Paisley’s actions have no impact on me. You can relax because there’s nothing for you to worry about.” She might be my manager, but we’re not quite on friends’ terms, and I’m not comfortable telling her about my past with Paisley. I also haven’t quite worked Margo out yet. She’s becoming increasingly flirty with me, and her knowing how I feel about Paisley could be a problem. One I don’t want to have to deal with today.
She brushes her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “Well okay, but I would like to hope you can trust me and I will be the first to know if there is a problem I need to fix.”
“You will be,” I assure her.
I spot the table Paisley has set up with Beckett and a couple of their crew. They all wear navy-blue polo shirts with a logo that says, “ Prescott for Progress: Leading Deception Bay into a Brighter Future!” I wonder if he came up with that or Paisley did. Does she really believe his bullshit? Or just hate me so much she thinks he’s the better option.
A man I haven’t seen in a long time approaches us. I hold out my hand. “Coach Smith,” I say with a grin.
He offers a firm shake with a nod of acknowledgment.
“Can you grab me something to eat? I’ve just seen someone I need to talk to about our campaign.” Margo says before rushing off in the direction of a group of women probably in their mid-fifties. They greet her warmly with kisses on cheeks and hugs. I don’t recognize them, but she fits in amongst them perfectly. All high-society types, flaunting their husbands’ money by trying to out-dress the others.
“Sad to see your football career is over, son. But you had a great run. Did me proud.”
“Thank you, Coach.”
“Bet you miss it.”
I sigh, feeling the heaviness of the loss. “You have no idea.”
“Oh, I do, son. I played professionally myself for a few years before I met my wife and settled down here. Coaching’s not quite the same as playing, but I can’t tell you how satisfying it is to watch my boys develop into the players that go off into the world and do amazing things with the foundation I gave them.”
“I have a lot to thank you for,” I agree.
“You know, if this mayoral thing doesn’t work out for you, I’m looking to retire at the end of the season. You would make the perfect addition to the team. It’s just a thought, now that you’re back in town.”
I study him. Coaching is something I considered after the accident, but coming back home to coach the high school team, I’m just not sure. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Nice to see you, son.” His hand claps my shoulder a couple of times. “Better go fetch the wife her breakfast.” He winks, leaving me alone again.
My attention returns to Paisley. She looks down, not her usual perky self, and I know her father’s arrest must be getting to her. Beckett leans in closer to her and says something, then the two of them go around the corner of the building. I follow them, when I’m stopped by a man in a pair of rubber boots. I take a step back from him when I work out I’ve seen him before.
“Mr. Harrington. Pay attention to your footing. You’re walking down a dangerous road, one your father would tell you leads to great pain. I would get out now if you knew what was good for you,” the old man says cryptically.
“Who are you?” I demand. This is the same guy from the cemetery.
“Justin Lockwood, look me up and you will see I know what I’m talking about. You need to get out now. Walk away while you still can.” He turns to look in Paisley’s direction. “Her old man was the least of your worries. He was just following orders. You’re going up against the big guy.” He turns and hurries off through the crowd. I try to go after him, but he disappears, leaving unease to creep in.
I knew the doc wasn’t the only one involved. Parker’s researching all possible leads, but so far, nothing. And the doc won’t spill his guts. He’s going to go down and let whoever was calling the shots off free, just like my father did. The thing I don’t understand is why my father let it happen. He had all the evidence to save himself, but he kept it all locked away. So, either he did try to save himself and the evidence was never used or he was too scared of who was really calling the shots to get in their way. The Prescotts have a lot to answer for, and I know they’re the ones behind all the shit that has taken place in our sleepy town over the years.
My line of sight travels back to the side of the building where Paisley is now, huddled up with Prescott. Tension coils up inside of me, causing my hands to ball into fists. He needs to back the fuck off if he knows what’s good for him. Paisley’s my girl, and he has no right to touch her.