“I want to place an ad.” Ms. Helen brushed the flowered print of her skirt, then settled her silver handbag on her lap.
“For what?”
She tilted her head. “Why are you asking so many questions? Are you going to write a story about it?”
Darius grinned at her quarrelsome words. “Why are you being so secretive?”
Ms. Helen smoothed her gray hair back toward the thick bun at the nape of her thin neck. “I’m looking for someone to write my memoirs, if you must know.”
Darius’s grin vanished. A chill of fear invaded his heart. “Ms. Helen, it’s way too early to be thinking about writing your memoirs. You’re going to be with us for a very long time.”
Helen Gaston, or “Ms. Helen,” as Trinity Falls residents called her, was a tiny woman who’d been ancient the day Darius had been born. Since then, time had stood still for her. She was a fixture in Trinity Falls, doling advice—solicited or not—and encouraging neighbors, both young and old, through triumphs and challenges. She’d been more of a parent to him than his parents had been. The idea of the town without her was inconceivable.
Ms. Helen rolled her eyes, though the blush on her brown cheeks revealed her pleasure in the compliment. “You’re better off keeping your pretty words for your girlfriends, young man. They won’t turn my head.”
“If you’re determined to write your memoirs, I’d be happy to help you.”
“I appreciate your offer, but it looks like you have your hands full right now.”
Darius followed Ms. Helen’s gaze to the newspaper, still open on his desk. “What do you mean?”
Ms. Helen gave him a sympathetic look. “You can’t mean to let this foolishness continue.”
“What ‘foolishness’?” He didn’t feel good about pretending not to understand.
Ms. Helen’s face softened into a smile. “I’ve read every one of your articles since you came back to write for the Monitor. I can tell how much you care about this town. I know Simon’s your father, but you can’t possibly agree with his decision to run for mayor.”
He’d call his father’s mayoral aspirations a lot of things, but “foolishness” was an understatement. “What can I do about it?”
“Stop him.”
The muscles in the back of Darius’s neck screamed with tension. “Ms. Helen, I’ve tried. He won’t listen to me.”
Ms. Helen leaned forward, placing a hand over Darius’s. “I know you, Darius. If Simon didn’t change his mind, it means you didn’t try hard enough.”
“Just because he runs for mayor doesn’t mean he’ll win. Everyone knows Doreen’s the better candidate.”
“So you’re just going to give up and hope for the best? That’s not like you, Darius. You know you can’t separate yourself from Simon’s campaign.”
Couldn’t I? Darius remained silent.
“You didn’t even write the article about his petition drive.” Ms. Helen sighed. “I read the article. There isn’t one part of it that’s true. That kind of dishonesty could hurt the town, splitting it between those who believe Simon and those who know the truth. Do you want that for Trinity Falls?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Then what are you going to do about it?”
He wished he knew.
On Saturday night, Doreen welcomed Leonard into her home for dinner. Their menu was steak and potatoes, comfort food. The knowledge he supported Simon’s campaign had weighed on her since she’d seen his signature on the petition that morning. Even now, the reality of what he’d done sat at the dining-room table with them like an unwanted guest.
Doreen sliced into her steak. “I was surprised you didn’t come into Books and Bakery today.”
Leonard scooped a forkful of mashed potatoes. “I had a lot of errands to run.”
“So many that you had to skip lunch?” Did she sound as witchy as she felt?