Coming to Rosemont (17 page)

Chapter 26

Maggie and Susan traded a soggy day
for the amped-up halogens and oxygenated air of the mall, where it’s always
bright and cheerful. The stores were full of colorful, easy spring clothes.
They spent the morning trying on armloads of dresses at a local boutique. Susan
had no luck, but Maggie was having one of those magical shopping days where
everything fits, looks great, and goes together. They finally lost track of how
many things she had piled up at the register. “For heaven’s sake, Mom, you’re
in the
zone
. Just go with it. You haven’t treated yourself to anything
new for over a year. Your wardrobe is so business-y. You need some fun stuff.
Get it all and take it home to think about it. You can always return stuff. I’m
telling you, the shopping gods are smiling on you.”

Maggie reluctantly followed her daughter’s advice
and sheepishly loaded her shopping bags into the back of her SUV. Where in the
world did she think she was going to wear all of this? She locked her car and
turned to Susan. “We promised, so let’s find out where we can collect
signatures.”

The bored-looking young man at the information
desk said he didn’t really know (and obviously didn’t care) but thought they
could stand by the east entrance, near the food court. They had shopped through
lunch, so they bought a snack to tide them over until dinner and solicited
signatures from shoppers for the next two hours. Most people were aware that
Wheeler had resigned but didn’t know that there was going to be a special
election. Some were interested in details about the process and who Alex was
and what he stood for, while most just wanted to sign the petition to help them
and get into the mall to do their shopping. Either way, they were pleased to
have collected one hundred and eight signatures by the time they headed home to
change for dinner.

***

The rain had stopped and the
evening was warm as a caress. Maggie decided to wear one of her new dresses. It
was a shimmery coral, with a halter neckline outlined in coral and turquoise
beads. Susan had insisted she buy it. She rummaged around in her closet for her
dark coral pashmina to throw over her shoulders and slipped on strappy
high-heeled sandals.

Maggie appraised herself in the mirror. She had to
admit she looked good. Like her mother before her, she was aging well. Pretty
as a young woman, her mother had really pulled away from the pack in her later
years.
A good trait to have inherited,
she thought. She couldn’t shake
the feeling that she was overdressed—like she should be on a cruise
ship—not going to dinner on a damp Thursday evening after Easter. She
decided she would change into something less fancy when the doorbell rang, Eve
started barking, and Susan yelled, “He’s here!”

Drat!
It was twenty of seven. Why on earth
was he so early? She had expected him to be late, what with finishing up at the
clinic and all. Susan burst into her room as she was reaching for the zipper.
“You look fabulous! What are you doing? Don’t take that off. It’s perfect. Come
on. John’s here. And I’m starved.”

John was handsome in a charcoal suit and silver
tie. Maggie let the wrap slip to her elbows and was rewarded with an
appreciative glance.
Being noticed by a man when you’re wearing a new dress
never gets old,
she thought.

“You look lovely, both of you,” he said as he gave
Maggie a kiss on the cheek and extended his hand to Susan. He flushed as she
took it and pulled him in for a hug. Maggie smiled at the two of them. “Did you
get either of these beautiful dresses today?”

“Mom did,” Susan replied. “She scored big time. I
think she can wear something new every day for the next month. That sales lady
now has a new best friend.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Maggie protested. “But luck
was in my favor today, I have to admit. And we collected one hundred and eight
signatures on our petition,” she said as they climbed into John’s car. “How was
your day? Did you get anyone to sign?”

“Busy day. I knocked off a bit early so I could
get myself cleaned up to take two beautiful women out to dinner,” he said,
turning to wink at Susan. “We collected a dozen signatures. Almost everyone who
came in signed. We don’t have that much traffic. I talked to Pete. He took
petitions to the other businesses on the square, and they all have them at their
registers. Have you talked to Alex today?”

“No. He hasn’t come home yet. It’ll be handy with
him living at Rosemont during the campaign. We can have midnight staff meetings
every day.”

John swung the car into an alley that ran between
two old brick buildings and pulled into a parking lot behind a
nondescript-looking restaurant. A small sign by the back door bore its
name—Stuart’s—and declared, “You’re here. Come on in through our
kitchen.”

John gave the car to the valet on duty and they
entered the turbulent kitchen where a trio of cooks worked frantically. Waiters
ran in and out of the swinging doors at the other end of the room, shouldering
trays loaded with plates of steaks, chops, and seafood. The aromas of beef and
garlic and baking bread engulfed them. They filed along a runner that led past
the chaos of the grill to a quiet, dark-paneled dining room. The tuxedoed host
led them to a high upholstered booth along one wall away from the kitchen.

“Good,” John said. “This is right where I asked
that we be seated. You can see into the bar and the whole restaurant from here.
This place is the good-ole-boy bastion in this town. Most of the town’s major
business deals have been struck here. Political futures have been born. And if
a man wants to escape from his wife, he comes to the bar, and if she calls, the
bartender says that he hasn’t seen her husband in weeks. Not that I endorse
that, mind you. Since you’re going to be a political mover and shaker in
Westbury, you’ll need to be known around here.”

“Honestly, I don’t know why everyone keeps
referring to me that way,” Maggie laughed. “I’m most certainly not a mover and
shaker. I’m just a helper.”

“Come on, Mom,” Susan said. “I never would have
believed it if I hadn’t seen you in action this past week, but you are a
politico. Look how you created that carnival to raise money, and now you’re
managing a political campaign. I always knew you were super-organized. Mike and
I used to complain about it at times, but it’s a helpful trait and now we’re
just like you that way. What I never saw is how capable you are. I guess you
were always in Dad’s shadow. I’m sorry that we never gave you the credit you
deserved.”

Maggie shifted in her seat and tugged at the wrap
that had slipped off one shoulder. She had longed for this moment—this
recognition from her children—for an eternity, and now that it was
unexpectedly upon her, she was rendered speechless. She flushed with equal
parts frustration at herself and pleasure at the remark.

“And another thing,” Susan continued. “I thought
that you were insane, moving to this hick backwoods county. Meaning no
dis-respect, John,” she added hastily. “But I haven’t felt this engaged and involved
in years. I can see why you care for these people so much. The ones I’ve met
would do absolutely anything for you. I can’t wait to hear how all of this
turns out. I’m going to call you daily, Mom. And if I can do anything at all
from my end, you just let me know. I’m so sorry that I have to go back home on
Saturday and leave you with all of this.”

Maggie, John, and Susan were well into their main
course when Frank Haynes and Russell Isaac stepped up to the bar. They were
starting in on a couple of martinis when Frank noticed Maggie’s intent gaze. He
nodded at her and whispered something to Isaac. Isaac reluctantly set his drink
on the bar and followed Haynes to their table.

“I wanted to come over and say hello to my
favorite vet and our new political power broker. And to introduce her to our
acting mayor, Russell Isaac.” Maggie, John, and Susan all stood for the round
of introductions.

“Sit, please. We don’t want to interrupt. Nice to
meet the lovely daughter of our mysterious new resident,” Haynes crooned. He
was curious about Susan.
Another tedious career woman, no doubt.
He was
about to address her when Isaac spoke up.

“I understand you’re running Alex Scanlon’s
campaign,” Isaac interjected. “Fixing up Rosemont, organizing that little
carnival, and now this. Quite a busy lady. Well, this campaign will give us a
chance to get to know each other over the next few months. That is, if Alex can
get enough signatures to get on the ballot. Just remember, I’m acting mayor, so
I represent you. My door is always open if you need anything. It must be
difficult for you, what with being so new to town. You probably don’t even know
your way around yet.”

“Thank you so much for coming over,” Maggie
replied sweetly. “I’ve got a few things I’d like to discuss with you. I’ll take
you up on your offer and come see you tomorrow. I’ve got lots of unanswered
questions about this town. And its finances. As for finding my way around?
Don’t worry, my GPS system takes care of that.” She raised her chin and leaned
forward imperceptibly, locking him with her gaze. “I’ll see you first thing,
say nine o’clock?”

Isaac took a step back and stiffened. “I’m not
sure what’s on my schedule tomorrow. Just call my secretary and she’ll set
something up,” he blustered.

Haynes shot Maggie a look of pure venom.
This
broad was certainly full of herself.
Sensing that Isaac’s thin veneer of cordiality
was about to crack, he took his candidate by the elbow. “We’d better get back
and let you enjoy your dinner,” he said as he led Isaac back to the bar.

“Good going, Mom. You stood up to that pompous
twit.”

“He may be pompous, but he’s not a twit. I just
caught him off guard. He won’t underestimate me in the future,” Maggie replied.
“We’ve got a fight on our hands.”

“I think he’s got a fight on his hands,” John
said. “My money is on you. And I’m here to help you in any way I can.”

They finished the meal with lively conversation
about books and movies, and the best shows on TV this season. It was late when
they pulled up in front of Rosemont. Susan hugged John and thanked him for
dinner, then tactfully disappeared through the front door.

“She’s great,” John said. “And she seems happy and
relaxed after this week with you. She’ll be fine. Some smart guy is going to
come along and realize what he’s got in her.”

“I hope it’s soon,” Maggie sighed. “She’s been
waiting so long. I just want her to be happy.”

Maggie and John had been drifting together as they
talked. They came together in an easy kiss that quickly turned passionate.
Maggie pulled away first. “I shouldn’t be standing on my front porch necking
while my daughter is waiting on the other side of the door. And you’ve got an
early day tomorrow. Thank you for tonight.”

John leaned back and smiled down at her but didn’t
let her go. She continued, “Susan leaves Saturday morning. Would you like to
come to dinner here Saturday night?”

“I’d love to, but why don’t I take you out? Won’t
you be tired from all this campaign running you’re doing?”

“No, I’ll be fine. I like to cook. It’s relaxing
and creative. I’m planning to collect signatures at the supermarket on
Saturday, so I’ll be right there to pick something up for dinner. It won’t be
fancy, so don’t get your hopes up too high.”

“Whatever you want to do works for me. And if
Saturday comes and you’re tired, my offer still stands.”

He must be the most thoughtful man on the
planet,
Maggie reflected as she stepped across the threshold and locked up.

***

Frank Haynes’ mind was working
overtime as he drove home after the encounter at Stuart’s. Russell Isaac was
certainly no mental giant. Being acting mayor was going to his head. Isaac
understood that he couldn’t go it alone; that he needed the support and
guidance of Frank Haynes. He smiled in spite of himself.
That’s exactly how
I like my politicians—dumb and dependent on me. He’s expendable. I can
frame him, if I have to. Just like Wheeler.

A bigger problem was Maggie Martin or, more
accurately, her ownership of Rosemont. He was surprised to see her with John Allen.
The vet was one of the few people in Westbury that Haynes liked and respected.
He’s
certainly wasted no time in courting the wealthy new widow in town,
he
thought. Not that John would be dating her—if that were even what they
were doing—because of her money. The vet was too honorable for that.
Well, let him have her. He didn’t want another woman in his life, poking around
in his personal affairs, trying to censor his activities, and taking half of
his estate when she finally gave up trying to change him. That part of the
bargain Dr. Allen could have. But Haynes still needed Rosemont.

He had been absent-mindedly picking up speed and
was heading into a curve too fast. He stepped on the brakes and fine German engineering
came to his aide, preventing a skid. He straightened the wheel and slowed to
the speed limit. He switched radio stations and tried to get interested in the
final innings of a Cubs game, but the subject of Maggie Martin wouldn’t leave
him. She hadn’t been in Westbury all that long, he reasoned. She and Rosemont
and Westbury were still in the honeymoon stage. There was plenty of time for
this new adventure to turn sour. Maybe that daughter of hers would produce a
grandchild and she’d want to go back. Or maybe the budding romance with the
good vet would fizzle and she’d throw Rosemont on the market and flee back to
California with a broken heart. Haynes began to whistle a tuneless melody. All
would work out. He simply had to be patient and wait for the parties to paint
themselves into their respective corners. If you allowed people enough rope,
they would inevitably hang themselves.