Evie studied the expensive office and the sophisticated designer behind the desk and sighed. “Probably too much. I set my sights high, but I may have bitten off more than Afterthought deserves. We need a new mayor, someone who isn’t one of Mayor Block’s cronies, someone not involved in real estate but who wants to work for the benefit ofallthe people of this town, not just the rich ones.”
Ward whistled, and Evie thought maybe—beneath the skillfully enhanced cosmetics—she caught a glimpse of the designer’s inner unconfident teenager. She’d overstepped her boundaries this time.
“You do live in another dimension, don’t you?” the fashionista said in a more thoughtful manner than the grandiose one she’d been using. “I like that, but reality shatters dreams.”
Evie sighed. This was where she never got any respect. “I’m twenty-five-years old and have a higher than average IQ and more than the usual amount of understanding of how people work. Setting high goals is how the human race achieves great things, although I accept that success comes with failure.”
“But we’re talking Afterthought here, not Mars. You’re asking a small, mostly unsophisticated and uneducated populace to accept what much more urban areas won’t.”
“Asking you to run for governor might be a different case, but I know Afterthought pretty well. Despite whatever you may have experienced growing up, you’re respected now. Our schools are more diverse and creative than twenty years ago. Education makes for smarter voters. My main concern, now that I’ve seen this place, is that you won’t have time for us.”
Ward was no longer diva-smiling. “I can make time, if you convince me I won’t be ruining a chance for someone more electable. I’m aware that the town council has put up their own candidate. Paul Clancy sells stock. His career depends on everyone knowing his name. Voters prefer people they know and don’t like change. You must admit, I’d be an enormous, possibly divisive, change—like your mother, who is also running, am I correct?”
“See, and that’s why we thought of you!” Evie sat forward, hoping she wasn’t fooling herself because this was what she wanted. “Mavis is running only because no one else stepped up. We both know she’s not up to the job, but she needs to respect whoever else runs. When we first started talking about ideal candidates, we started with the basics—a candidate ought to representallthe town, not just the white male business part. But then it got messy because if we picked a well-known Black businessman, we might be discriminating against a white female who knew business just as well.”
Ward chuckled. “So you chose someone who has it all? That won’t get me elected.”
Evie sat back in satisfaction now that it seemed Ward might be interested. “No, what will get you elected is your business acumen, your generosity, your well-known name, and the support of a community that has known you since birth. Clancy is not a native.”
Ward leaned back and clasped her slender, beringed fingers with their red-polished nails. “You phrased that very nicely. I’m not necessarily agreeing with your interpretation, but I thank you for your open-mindedness.”
Evie waved her unpolished and ring-less hands. “This is not about playing nice. I’m no politician. To get where you are now, you had to be. To prove my point, let me be blunt and address the elephant in the room—sex. People in a rural town do not often meet flagrant... what’s the current terminology here?”
“Transgender? Nonbinary?” Ward suggested, looking both interested and amused.
“Perfect, thank you. The fact that you’re not hitting me over my ignorant head proves you’re secure enough to handle the epithets the other side will fling. And the more mud they sling, the more the people who like you will cheer you on. And peoplelikeyou.”Evie stopped to take a breath. She hadn’t known her head held all these words. But she couldn’t stop now.
She dived back in. “You’ve brought real business to town. You employ hundreds of people who would be picking cotton otherwise. You offer your workers benefits that help their families. This is a small town. Half the voters will be related to your workers in one way or another. Get them to the polling booths, and you’re a shoo-in.”
Ward pointed a finger. “There’s the catch. How do we drag people to the voting booth who have given up all hope of making a difference?”
Evie stood up. “That’s where you come in. You need to make them believe in the impossible, give them hope, offer them an underdog to root for. There are only two weeks left to file. I’ve done all I can. My family will back you, but we’re not politicians. It’s your decision. All we can do is hope you make the right one.”
Ward remained seated, eyes half-closed. “I’ll think about it. If nothing else, you’ve made my day.”
“I live to serve!” Evie let herself out, crossing her fingers and wishing she had a magic wand.
Larraine Ward could put Afterthought on the map. Evie didn’t expect that to mean she got any more respect, but she’d settle for knowing that she’d made it happen.
Nine
The next morning,Jax halted his new, used Harley on the lane leading to his sister’s house to answer his phone. The whistled “Ya Got Trouble” refrain greeted him.
“Rube, if you’re going musical gay, go to New York City where they at least have theaters. And update your repertoire while you’re there.” Jax shoved his sweaty hair off his brow and scanned the sparse piney woods concealing Ariel’s cottage. He spotted one of her security cameras and waved.
“I grew up on the oldies. New ones don’t have the same flair,” Reuben complained. “Y’know how we said that old Sovereign Company your father worked with reinvented itself as DVM? I’ve been tracking those new DVM voting machines. Did you know we’ve got some right here in River City?”
Afterthought barely had a pond and no river, but Jax got the message. “No, I did not know that. You think the town council will let you in to tamper with them?”
“They have an election coming up. Shouldn’t someone inspect them to be certain they are all functioning?”
“And you want to be that inspector?”
“Damn right. I want my hands on the new PCBs, see how they compare with this old one. Looks like the machines go through the county attorney. Got strings to pull?”
From that, Jax deduced Reuben was studying the county’s contracts, he hoped, legally. “Who’s the county attorney?”
“George Norton.”