“What’s next?”
Her administrative assistant consulted the list in her hands. “You’ve got a meeting with the Christmas parade planning committee next week to discuss in-case-of-rain plans. And at three o’clock you’re meeting with Linda Odom and Beulah Cartwright.”
“Why?”
“Well, it seems the Singing Christmas Tree has become the Battle of the Baptists. There isn’t enough room for everyone in the stands, so someone has to decide who actually gets that honor—the choir from First Baptist or from St. Paul Baptist.”
“How did that someone get to be me? I’m no music expert.”
“No, but you’re the boss.”
Sandy loved her job—most of the time. Her town meant everything to her. But some days, she felt less like the mayor and more like an over-extended kindergarten teacher. Today was clearly going to be one of those days. “I guess I can’t fake food poisoning, can I?”
“Not unless you want to get on Mama Pearl’s bad side for impugning the diner’s meatloaf.”
She’d rather face her ex-husband than insult the Goddess of Gossip herself. That would be the shortest route to historic low approval ratings. “Then I guess I’m putting on my mediator hat. Where are we on reports of damage from last night’s storms?”
“A lot of roof stuff. Some downed power lines that Light and Water is already handling. All in all, not nearly as bad as it could’ve been. Those straight-line winds were killer.”
“Let’s all be grateful. Is that everything?”
“Just one more for now. Mamie Landon wanted to schedule a time with you to discuss fundraiser options for the Coleman family. They lost everything in the fire last week. The area churches have taken care of the necessities, but there’s still the issue of where they’re going to live.”
That right there was why Sandy loved what she did. Because her town cared about their own. “See if you can schedule that for tomorrow. And while you’re at it, check with Brody Jensen and see if you can’t get him in as well.” Brody was one of her son Cam’s best friends. He’d returned to town a year ago and opened his own construction firm. It could be he’d have some ideas about rebuilding and could give them a cost estimate for reconstruction.
“I’m on it.”
As Avery rose from the chair across the desk, a knock sounded on the open door. Sandy looked up to find Cam standing in the hall. Her quick spurt of pleasure shifted to a Momdar alert as she caught sight of his face.
“Got a minute?” he asked.
“For you, always.”
He murmured a hello to Avery as she passed, then shut the door.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
“A tree took out the church.”
Sandy blinked at him. “I’m sorry, what?”
“That big old oak got uprooted in the storm and fell on the church. I just came from there. The damage is pretty extensive.”
“But…how? The storm wasn’t that bad…was it?”
“With all the rain we’ve had the past few weeks, the ground was loose. With those winds…it just went straight on over.” Her tall, broad-shouldered son scooped a hand through his blond hair. “Norah cried. She never cries.”
Sandy knew that gutted Cam. His fiancée had been a beacon of hope during the darkest hours for their town. If she was shaken, the situation must be worse than dire.
“We’ve been planning this for months. It took nearly a year to pin her down for a date in the first place. How the hell are we going to have a wedding with no venue?”
Her mind was already spinning, considering options. “We’ll find a way. I promise.” She didn’t know what that way was, but she’d find it if only to take that look of dejection off her baby’s face.
“I’ve gotta get back to the nursery—we’re rotating some stock for a Thanksgiving sale and Violet wants me to do up some more planters—but I just wanted to swing by and let you know, so you could put your thinking cap on.”
Sandy came around her desk and hugged him tight, wondering when he’d started towering over her since he was twelve years old yesterday. “I’ll do that. And I’ll call Mom. She’ll call everybody else. Between the lot of us, we’ll figure something out. We’ve got nearly two weeks.”
“It’ll take a miracle.”