Chapter 16
Sixteen
We arrive at Mayor Thornberry’s two-story colonial bearing gifts.
“Holly!” Ivan answers the door, his salt and pepper hair still damp from his morning shower.
He’s dressed in the same navy blue waffle knit sweater that he wore to my Thanksgiving party and a pair of ancient dad jeans.
“I didn’t know you were coming over.” He glances over my shoulder at Elliot.
A flicker of uncertainty flashes in his eyes before he forces a tight smile. “And you brought your … P.I.”
“Boyfriend,” I correct him. “Right, Elliot?”
“Mm,” Elliot grunts, bad cop mode activated.
“W-what are you doing here?” Ivan keeps his wary gaze fixed on Elliot.
“I called your office,” I say, peering over his shoulder. “They told me you were busy throughout the month?”
“So you thought you’d come to my house…” Ivan forces another smile. “You know I’m always available Tuesday nights at the council meeting. I’m always there. I know you’re always there.”
“This is not for business. It’s for pleasure.” I reach into my tote bag and unearth a giant geode. “Just got a new shipment in this week…” I open up the unassuming rock to reveal the lustrous rainbow crystal inside. “Surprise!”
Sucking in his breath, Mayor Thornberry takes the geode from my hands. “Is that what I think it is?” He holds the rock up to the sunlight. Rainbow prisms dance over his tanned face.
“The Angel Aura Quartz itself,” I nod. “You asked me to put you on the waitlist. It’s here.”
“It’s breathtaking.” He chokes up. “T-thank you. What do I owe you for—”
“Don’t worry about it.” I wave off his offer to pay. “Consider it a gift amongst old friends.”
“Well, that’s very generous of you,” Ivan says, with a surprised lift of his brow. “I know just where to put it. And if there’s anything I can do for you…” He reaches for the door. “Anything at all.”
“Actually…” I wedge myself closer to the threshold, blocking the door from shutting. “I’d love to see where you’re going to put it. I have a few suggestions and Elliot has some questions.” I lower my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I also have to use the bathroom.”
Ivan rakes his hands through his hair. “This really isn’t a good time…”
“I’ll just be a minute,” I say, slipping past him and darting to the bathroom. I’ve been to his house before and while I don’t know the layout by heart, I can show myself around.
From the outside, Ivan’s house is a traditional colonial with symmetrical windows, a gabled roof, and pristine white paint.
The interior, by contrast, looks like he cut a deal with the set designer of Beetlejuice: a postmodern red couch in the shape of a claw, black-and-white checkered floors, and giant glittering geodes everywhere.
My guess is that Ivan had a great time in the ‘80s … and he never left it.
I don’t really have to use the bathroom. With a few minutes to spare, I fix my hair and reapply my lip gloss. The plant next to the vanity needed some love, so I watered it and plucked off the dead leaves.
“… I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Mayor Thornberry hunches in his claw-shaped chair as Elliot looms over him, his sleeves rolled up to his elbow. “I don’t even remember what I was wearing to the party.”
So Elliot got started without me.
“You were wearing the exact sweater you’re wearing now,” I say, joining the interrogation in the breakfast nook. The geode sits before Ivan on the table amongst his coffee mug and a half-eaten bowl of oatmeal. The mug reads Mapledale’s #1 Mayor (we’ll see about that).
“You’re not going to display that there, are you?” I nod at the geode.
“I haven’t had time to decorate,” Ivan grimaces, “before your boyfriend started questioning me about my whereabouts on Thanksgiving.” He glances absently at his sleeve. “Sure, I suppose I was wearing this sweater. What does it matter? Your dress code said ‘wear blue.’”
“No, it didn’t,” I frown, a trifle annoyed. “I specifically told everyone to wear autumnal colors.”
“Blue is autumnal.”
“It’s more wintery,” I say.
“Thanksgiving takes place in a transitional season,” Ivan says. “I like to be prepared for winter.”
“Like a squirrel?” I blurt out.
In reply, Mayor Thornberry lifts his head and smiles tightly. “Were I hosting Thanksgiving, I would not burden the guests with a dress code. I believe that everyone should have the freedom to dress how they please, when they please…”
I sniff. “My guests can wear whatever they want and many of your have. I only suggested that it would look better for the group photo if we all coordinated in browns, oranges, and yellows. I’ve given everyone choices.
Blue is interesting. Never in my elementary school coloring days did I think to color turkey feathers,” I clear my throat, “blue.”
Ivan snorts. “It sounded like an order to me. And it’s a free country, so I wore blue. Your autumnal color palette washes me out. I’m more of a winter person.”
Grudgingly, I admit that he has a point. Jewel tones do suit his silvering hair better…
But I’ll be damned if I’m going to capitulate.
I signal my irritation to Elliot with an eye roll. Ivan is a good man, but when pressed, he could attack you like a nasty little terrier.
“Did you wear blue out of spite, Mayor Thornberry?” Elliot asks.
Ivan clears his throat. “I don’t spite.”
“Did you rally everyone to wear blue to spite me?” I ask.
“The fact that everyone also wore blue that night…” He snorts. “What are the chances?”
“Yes,” I grit my teeth. “What are the chances?”
“You should have seen her face,” Ivan turns to Elliot, laughing, “she got so mad. I thought steam was going to shoot right out her ears.” He looks up at me.
“You’ve got to stop sweating the small stuff, Holly Darling, and start thinking about the big picture.
How else do you expect to be the future mayor of Mapledale? The position will eat you alive.”
I narrow my eyes. I’m not buying his attempts to weasel out of this. Now I’m convinced he’s talked everyone into wearing blue to spite me. “Show him the picture, Elliot.” I seethe as Ivan inclines his head to inspect the crime scene photos. “Is that your elbow behind my Christmas tree?”
Ivan leans back in his chair, a smirk ghosting his lips, and looks me dead in the eye. “No.”
“The sweater in the photo is waffled and blue, much like the one you’re wearing now.”
“The sweater looks black to me,” Ivan peers at Elliot’s phone, enlarges the photo with a pinch. “And the photo is blurry.”
“Are you aware that I found three giant turds under my tree that night?”
Ivan stifles his laugh with a cough. “I am.”
“You think this is funny? Do you know what I did after I found those turds? I ran around in circles, screaming, ‘There’s poop under my tree! There’s poop under my tree!’”
Ivan turns red, the veins in his neck strained. Elliot turns his face away and mashes his lips together.
“Okay. Ha. Ha. You both think this is so funny? Well, there’s nothing funny about the psychological distress I had to go through. Do you know I have nightmares?”
“A-a-bout turds?” Ivan ducks his head, his expression strangled.
That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. First Ivan loses it, then Elliot… their belly laughs echo off the turquoise walls.
“I’m s-s-sorry,” Elliot says, tears in his eyes. Clearing his throat, he straights up and tries to pull it together. “Sorry.”
“One day you’ll look back at all of this,” Ivan says, massaging the stitch in his side, “and laugh. It’s no big deal.”
“My trauma is no big deal?”
“Trauma.” Ivan rolls his eyes. “It’s just a little dog shit.”
“We’ve ruled out the dog,” Elliot says. “The dog is innocent.”
The mayor shrugs. “Your cat then.”
“Her cat is too fat to make it down the stairs,” Elliot counters.
I peer down at the mayor like he’s the turd in question. “It’s human waste, Ivan.”
“Eh. Well…” Ivan grapples with the facts, clearly at a loss for words. “That’s disgusting, but you’ll get over it.”
I shake my head. “I can’t get over it.”
“Holly.” Ivan claps his hands together. “I say this because I love you: grow a pair.”
Alright. Let’s cut the bull. I smack my hands on the table. “Did you shit under my tree?”
Ivan blinks twice, then sighs. “I have nothing against you, dearest Holly,” he says, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “You’re my favorite person ever.”
“I’m sure you look forward to seeing her every Tuesday night,” Elliot adds dryly.
“Indeed I do,” Ivan says.
“Especially her many suggestions for the improvement of this town.”
Ivan’s eyes widen a little. “Her suggestions are always appreciated.”
“She has so many suggestions, doesn’t she?” Elliot glances over at me. “So many ideas on how to improve the town.”
Ivan tugs on the neck of his sweater. “Yes. She certainly does.” His eyes shift to me. For a moment, I see a flash of dislike before he rearranges his face into a mask of benevolent sainthood. “But Holly loves Mapledale as much as I do. She’s invested in the town.”
“Do you ever wish her suggestions would stop?” Elliot asks. “All those ‘critiques’ on how you do your job. Doesn’t it ever wear you down?”
Ivan laughs off Elliot’s question. “Young man, I wouldn’t be mayor if I can’t take a critique or two.”
“It was you who suggested Holly run for mayor.” Elliot flips to an early page in his notebook.
“Your words were ‘if you think you can do a better job, why don’t you try running for mayor and see how you like it?’” Elliot tilts his head to the side, studying the sudden deflation of the mayor’s shoulders.
“Doesn’t sound like friendly encouragement to me. Sounds like you snapped.”
Ivan scratches his scalp. “Were those my words? I recall saying, “‘Why not give it a go and run for mayor yourself? You’ll love it!’”
“Really?” I ask. “That’s not how I remembered it.”
“It’s not the tone that matters, it’s the message,” Ivan says. “And now you’re running for mayor. Are you not sufficiently encouraged?”
I frown. “I suppose I am…”