To Get Me to You (Wishful 1)

“That was all you. We wouldn’t have known to look if you hadn’t noted those discrepancies in the city financial records.”

Sandra laid a hand on her shoulder. “Wishful owes you a debt. For so many things.”

Norah smiled. “Just doing what I can to help. Speaking of—” She turned to the still silent crowd gathered in the command center. “Okay people, that was news. I know some of you were snapping pictures and taking video. Pull out your phones and share it! Facebook. Twitter. Text. Somebody get over to Dinner Belles and get Mama Pearl on it. And find Cassie and get things moving over at The Grind. I want every gossip tree in this town singing!”

~*~

The polls were closed. The command center had been broken down and packed up. GrandGoods and their tents were gone. In the wake of allegations about offering kickbacks, Bill Sutto hadn’t been available for comment to the press, which had swarmed downtown after footage of Vick’s arrest had aired. The remaining GrandGoods employees had looked shell shocked, with nothing more to say than “No comment.” Norah and Molly had jumped into the void, talking and talking to get the coalition’s message out. And if Norah had used every skill and resource she had to make certain that the news of GrandGoods’ less than above board tactics was spread far and wide, she felt not a shred of remorse.

But it was Vick’s arrest that remained the hot topic of conversation among the locals. According to the gossip mill, his wife Rebecca was filing for divorce. Judge Carpenter had set bail. Some folks thought it was unnecessarily high, but his wife was one of Rebecca’s best friends. Given that Vick’s assets were frozen, pending the findings of the forensic accountant, he was still cooling his heels in a cell. Rumor had it there was collusion to make sure he stayed there until all his stuff could be packed up and his ass kicked out of the house. Small town justice at its finest.

Everybody but the die-hards had gone home after the exceptionally long day. Three months of almost non-stop action came down to the results of this night. Those remaining had camped out at the Mudcat Tavern to wait for the referendum results.

Norah hated waiting. Too keyed up to sit, she’d been pacing for the last forty-five minutes. The City Council had gone into an emergency closed session to discuss the ramifications of Vick’s actions, so she hadn’t seen Cam in hours. It felt wrong that he shouldn’t be by her side for the announcement of the results, when they’d been in this together from the beginning.

Miranda stepped into her path, a long neck bottle held out.

“I don’t want a drink.”

“It’s either this or I’m finding a tranquilizer dart. You’re wearing a hole in the floor.”

Norah took the beer.

“It’s going to be fine. Even if the store cap didn’t pass, the City Council isn’t going to do further business with GrandGoods after what they pulled.”

Norah shook her head. “If the store cap didn’t pass, GrandGoods will disavow all knowledge of the kickbacks and put it all on Sutto, claiming he acted on his own. He’ll get fired as collateral damage, and they’ll send some Honest Abe type with a list of concessions a mile long. We need this legislation.”

“Disavow all knowledge?” Miranda snorted. “Are you an expert in corporate espionage now?”

“No, but if I ran their PR division, it’s what I’d advise.”

“If I were in their shoes, I’d cut my loses and get the hell out.” Tipping back her beer, she studied Norah. “Speaking of running PR divisions. What was that whole deal at your presentation last night about being an authorized representative of Peyton Consolidated? I thought you weren’t going to work for him.”

“I’m not going to run his marketing department. But he needs someone local to liaise with the city, so he hired me on a freelance basis. Between that and the settlement from the lawsuit, I should be in okay shape until I sort out exactly what I’m really going to do for a living.”

“Well you know I’m entirely in favor of keeping you as a roommate, if that’s what you want. But you might have other plans on that front. It hasn’t escaped my notice that you’ve been spending most nights at Cam’s place.”

In the wake of Chicago, they’d been reluctant to spend much time apart. “We haven’t talked about what comes next.”

Mitch swung an arm around Norah’s shoulders. “Pretty sure the next steps are marriage and baby carriage. Isn’t that how the rhyme goes?”

Norah laughed, figuring it was a sign of how far she’d come that neither idea sent her into a blind panic. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“I was pretty sure he was going to with that crack he made at Grammy’s,” Miranda said. “‘How’s Saturday?’ my ass. What would he have done if you’d said yes? You’re probably the only woman in America who could legitimately plan a wedding in four days.”

She’d have done it, too, if she’d thought he was serious. And wasn’t that a surprise? But much as he loved his family, an offhand, casual question in front of all of them wasn’t his style. If she’d felt just a little pang of regret, she chalked it up to impatience. They were totally fine where they were.

“Who’s planning a wedding?” Cecily demanded.

Christoff made a show of picking up and staring at Norah’s naked left hand.

Norah freed her hand. “Nobody’s planning a wedding.”

“Yet,” sang Tyler as she strode by.

“You’re all completely incorrigible. Regardless of the likelihood of those events—”

“Guaranteed,” Miranda and Mitch chorused.