“You’re missing the point. You’re not obligated to run for a second term. Step down next January. Then you can move to wherever you want to live. Start the life you’ve always wanted.”
“Where?” Ramona spread her arms. “Ean’s not going back to New York, and you don’t want me moving to Philadelphia with you.”
Quincy crossed his arms over his chest, a surprisingly broad chest for such a stuffy college professor. “Stop using Trinity Falls as a crutch.”
Ramona stumbled back. His words slapped her with the sharp sting of truth. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
“You’re an intelligent, capable, independent woman. You’d do fine on your own.”
“As well as I did as mayor?” Ramona blinked, battling back tears. “As well as the last time I moved to New York?”
Quincy studied her in silence for several long seconds. “What happened in New York, Ramona?”
She pressed her thumb and third finger against her eyes. “I failed. Just as I failed at being mayor.” Ramona grabbed the newspaper, crushing it with her fist. “Show yourself out.”
Ramona turned and hurried down the hallway, back to her bedroom. She slammed the door closed. Where would she go if she couldn’t go to New York or Philadelphia? Who would she be if she couldn’t be mayor of Trinity Falls? What was scarier than starting over? Starting over without a clear idea of who you were or where you fit in your community.
“Doreen’s announcement that she’s running for mayor made the front page.” Grady Weatherington, owner of Fine Accessories, shoved his copy of The Trinity Falls Monitor across the table. As usual, the town center group had pushed two of the square tables together to accommodate their members for the meeting.
“It’s a good article.” Ean looked up from the newspaper and smiled at his mother. He caught Megan’s approving regard from across the table. It was a nice change from the cool looks she’d been giving him since Friday evening. Was she ready to forgive him?
Grady ignored Ean. “What good is her campaign going to do? The election is a year away. Ramona could sell the center before then—or worse, raise our rents again.”
Ean studied the newspaper photo of his mother. She looked great. Happy. Confident. He’d vote for her. “Ramona won’t raise our rent before the election.”
“How do you know?” Grady sounded like a petulant child.
Ean passed the newspaper to his mother. “I doubt she’ll sell the center, either.”
“How do you know?” Grady’s voice held a bite of impatience.
Megan answered him. “With Doreen challenging her campaign, Ramona will be more aware of the impact her decisions will have on her chances for reelection.”
“But you don’t know.” Grady sighed, running his hands through his thinning hair. “Why didn’t you come up with something to help us now?”
“Like what?” Megan turned the question to Grady.
“I don’t know.” Grady threw up his arms.
“If you don’t know, how are we supposed to?” Tilda Maddox, the card store owner, rolled her gray eyes.
Grady turned toward Doreen. “No offense, Doreen, but I don’t know how introducing you as our candidate is going to help me pay my rent.”
“No offense taken, Grady.” Doreen inclined her head. “But my campaign is about much more than your rent relief.”
Ean smiled at his mother’s saucy response. He didn’t remember her having so much spunk. “My mother’s running to help the entire town.”
Grady grunted. “She can’t beat Ramona. No one can. Ramona’s got this town twisted to her will. No one wants to go against her.”
“Maybe you don’t, but Doreen does.” Belinda Curby, the beauty salon owner, tapped the tip of her magenta-painted fingernail against the Formica tabletop. “You must not have read the article.”
Grady scowled at her. “Is that supposed to be funny?”
“You see any of us laughing?” Tilda’s voice was as dry as dust.
Grady gestured toward Doreen. “What makes you qualified?”
Ean had had enough. “My mother stepped forward to help Trinity Falls, which is something she’s been doing since before I was born. No offense, Grady, but when have you ever done that? For as long as I can remember, you’ve looked to other people to find solutions to your problems.”