That Man of Mine (7 page)

“Oh, no worries. This is what I signed up for when I ran for mayor.”

He looked as if he was about to leave, when he said, “I was thinking, maybe we could get that cup of coffee today after work?”

“I'd like that, but I'm pretty sure I just promised my mother I'd chain myself to her rack.”

He laughed. Mimi had to admit, she liked the way the skin around his eyes crinkled up at the edges. It had been a long time since she'd noticed another man in
that
way. For an instant, she felt a little guilty. But it wasn't as if she was going to do anything about that attraction. It was just nice to know that she wasn't completely dead when it came to noticing the opposite sex.

He stood and placed his hands on her desk, leaning in just enough to claim some of her personal space. “This is the second time I've asked you for coffee and you've turned me down. One more time and I just might get my feelings hurt.” His voice carried an unmistakable hint of flirtation. Or maybe he was just a naturally friendly guy. It had been so long since Mimi had found herself in this type of situation it was difficult to tell which was which.

“I didn't turn you down. I just had something else to do. But I promise, next time you ask me for coffee I'll make time.”

He grinned. “I'm going to hold you to that.”

Yikes. That
was definitely flirty. But as long as she didn't reciprocate, then everything should be okay.

She waited till he left her office to study the mound of paperwork on her desk. She should probably just toss all the personal messages. There was really no need to find out who was on “Team Mimi.” But if she threw out all the messages, then she might miss something important.

She quickly read through the slips of paper, dumping most of them into her trash. There was an “urgent” message from the manager of The Harbor House, a local upscale seafood restaurant, demanding to know how long the construction on the lot next door to them would continue, and another one from the principal of Whispering Bay Elementary, asking her to come speak at their next teacher's meeting. Other than that, there was nothing else that required a response.

She finished prioritizing the messages, made some phone calls, then reluctantly opened up the
Spring Into Summer
festival folder. It didn't take an MBA to figure out Doug hadn't been yanking her chain. Bruce had left her with the mother of all messes. He was probably at this very moment sitting at his office at the bank, gleefully chortling how he'd dumped all his mistakes right into her willing lap.

 Mimi rubbed her aching temples. No one forced her to run for mayor. She'd asked for this. And somehow she'd find a way to fix it.

N
ormally, Thursday night Bunco
was the highlight of Mimi's week. It was a chance to unwind and forget about the demands of everyday life. This week's hostess was Shea Masterson, creator of the famous super-secret margarita.

 Shea, along with Pilar and Kitty Pappas were the group's founders. There were twelve women total and no one missed Bunco unless absolutely necessary. Mimi, however, had been dreading tonight ever since word of
The Separation
hit town. She thought about faking a cold. Or a rash. Or possibly even a fever. But if by some slim chance she were to get away with it, it would only postpose the inevitable until next week. She couldn't avoid her friends forever. Nor did she really want to.

She expected the Babes to pounce on her the second she walked through Shea's door, demanding to know what was going on with her marriage. Strangely enough, though, no one brought it up. Maybe, for once, the Babes were going to respect her privacy and let Mimi talk about it when she was ready.

It had been hard enough to face her parents the other evening. Despite his obvious confusion over the separation, Daddy had been a sport about it. Momma, on the other hand, was the one who was acting strangely. All these years she'd done nothing but harp on Zeke. But now? She acted like Zeke was the son-in-law she'd always dreamed of. That was Momma for you. Just when Mimi thought she'd figured her out, she realized she didn't have her figured out at all.

After a while, Mimi began to relax and enjoy the night. The women talked about their kids and their jobs. Everyone was excited about Lauren's latest addition to Baby Got Bump—a new line of retro-toddler wear. Frida announced she and her husband Ed were taking a month long vacation in Europe, and everyone squealed as Kitty passed around pictures of her ten-month-old baby daughter Amanda.

They were about to begin round two of play. Mimi was on her second margarita when Shea rang the Bunco bell (the signal that another game was about to start). But instead of announcing the game, Shea smoothed down her long red hair and squared back her shoulders, like she was ready to do battle. “Okay, now that we've all had a chance to warm up, let's hear what's new with Mimi.”

Eleven pairs of eyes turned to look at her.

Mimi stifled a moan. She should have known the first part of the evening had just been an appetizer before tonight's main course—Mimi ala Flambé.

“Um, well, let's see,” Mimi said. “I had my first city council meeting, that's what new.”

“And she was a champ, all right,” Pilar told the rest of the group. “Bruce Bailey was a dick, as usual, but Mimi put him right in his place.”

An appreciative murmur rumbled through the room.

“Is that when Zeke announced to the city council that the two of you are separated?” Shea asked mildly.

Mimi glanced at Pilar, who shrugged her shoulders as if to apologize. Not that Pilar had anything to be sorry about. The Babes were right. They should have heard about Mimi's upcoming divorce through Mimi herself. Not Pilar. And certainly not through the Whispering Bay grapevine.

“Before anyone says anything, I'm sorry I didn't tell everyone here first. But we hadn't even told the kids or any family yet, so…” Her voice trailed off, cracking slightly. She'd only cried once since she'd asked Zeke to leave. But only because she'd had to hold it together. But she didn't have to hold it together now. No one here was going to judge her.

They swarmed her with murmurs of sympathy and hugs and lots of “I'm sorry's.” And although it didn't fix the overall situation, it did help. Plus, a couple more margaritas didn't hurt, either.

“What happened?” Kitty asked. “I always thought you and Zeke were the perfect couple.”

“There's no such thing as perfect,” Mimi said, swiping away a tear. Hopefully, that cryptic statement would satisfy them.

“But, there's got to be a
reason
,” Kitty said.

“Can I just say it's private, and leave it at that?”

Of course, she couldn't. The questions kept coming. So she decided to play the Diversion Card. They were all on their third (or was it fourth?) round of margaritas. Maybe it would work. “The
Spring Into Summer
festival is practically in bankruptcy,” she blurted.

“
What
?” Pilar's voice carried the loudest over a chorus of shocked exclamations.

“Yep. Bruce basically spent most of the discretionary budget last year advertising Billy Brenton as the main headliner for the festival, and we all know what happened there.”

“And now he expects you to clean up his mess?” Shea said. “Does the rest of the city council know about this?”

“Doug Wentworth does. He's the one who brought it to my attention.”

“He's the new city manager, right?” Lauren asked.

“Yep,” Pilar answered. “Nice guy. Kind of cute, too. He has a crush on Mimi.”

Mimi felt her face go hot. “He does not!” Her voice sounded like Donald Duck. Maybe she shouldn't have had that last margarita.

“Does he know you're married?” Frida demanded.

“He knows we're separated,” Mimi admitted carefully, trying not to slur her words. What in God's name did Shea put in her margaritas that made them so potent?

“He knows it because Zeke spilled the beans in front of everyone,” Pilar reminded them.

“Speaking of which, why would he do that?” Kitty asked. “Zeke is always so…hush-hush about everything.”

“Yep, he sure does like his secrets,” Mimi muttered.

Lauren frowned. “What secrets?”

“Nothing,” Mimi rushed to say. “So, what can I do to turn this year's festival around? Because I need to do something. Otherwise, the
Spring Into Summer
festival is in jeopardy of being disbanded.”

The entire room went still.

“But…Whispering Bay has held a
Spring Into Summer
festival since forever,” Kitty said.

“Almost fifty years to be exact,” Pilar added.

Shea passed around another round of margaritas. “The festival can't be in that much trouble, is it?”

Mimi started to decline the drink, but what the hell. She was already going to have a monster hangover tomorrow. She might as well earn it. “Unfortunately, thanks to nearly a decade of mismanagement by Bruce, the answer to that is yes. Without a big turnaround the festival could be toast.”

“Then you'll just to have to do something
big
,” Kitty said. She went to take a sip of her drink, then froze as if something had just occurred to her. “Hey! Why can't
you
get Billy Brenton to play at this year's festival?”

“
Me
? I wouldn't even know how to approach him! Plus, we're talking about four months from now. It's impossible to get a big name act like Billy Brenton in just four months.”

Pilar whipped out her smart phone and began typing. “According to his website, he's going on tour this summer. And,” she added in an excited voice, “He'll be doing a concert in Tallahassee the first Thursday in June, then he's on to Pensacola.”

“That's perfect!” Frida squealed. “We're smack dab in the middle of two of his concert venues.”

“Oh, so he can just mosey on by and give us a little performance in between gigs?” Mimi said. She hiccupped. Then she hiccupped again. “Sure, why not? It'll be a piece of cake.” She tried to snap her fingers, but for some reason they wouldn't come together.
Huh. That was weird
.

“Why not?” Shea demanded.

“Number one, because I don't think that's how it works. And number three, can you imagine how expensive someone like Billy Brenton would be to book? The festival is broke. As in, we have no money kind of broke.”

Kitty narrowed her eyes at Mimi. “What happened to reason number two?”

“What reason number two?” Mimi asked, beginning to feel confused. All this talk of the festival and Billy Brenton was giving her an even bigger headache than she'd had yesterday.

“Just imagine what a triumph it would be for you,” Pilar said to Mimi. “Bruce promises Billy Brenton, only
you'r
e the one who delivers him!”

The Babes all began talking at once. More margaritas were passed around and Bunco was abandoned. The last thing Mimi remembered was Pilar's voice telling her it was up to her to save the
Spring Into Summer
festival.

*~*~*

O
ne of the advantages
of being police chief was that it had been over two years since Zeke had last pulled a night tour. He'd been a cop for nearly seventeen years so he was no stranger to shift work, but it still sucked. One of his patrolmen had called in sick and instead of looking for a replacement, he'd covered the shift himself. After all, it wasn't like he had a family or a home or even a comfortable bed to go to. He'd turned down the offer of Rusty's cousin's fishing cabin, but he was beginning to think he'd been too hasty. The couch in his office had springs and his lower back was beginning to feel like he'd been kicked by a mule.

He took a left on Beach Street and cruised down the almost empty road at a leisurely pace. It was nearly ten o'clock on a Thursday night in Whispering Bay. Which meant things were duller than dirt. The summers could be busy, but it was February and there wouldn't be tourists till spring break when they got some residual overflow from the nearby towns of Destin and Panama City. Then, things could get dicey. Not that he liked dicey. Dull was just fine as far as Zeke was concerned.

He'd just driven by the construction site for the new town rec center when his radio went off. Ellie, the night dispatcher's voice came over loud and clear. “Chief, there's a call requesting your presence
specifically
.”

Jesus.
Not again. Since he'd opened up his big mouth the day of the city council meeting there had been nearly a dozen calls requiring his “specific presence.” Absolutely none of them had been legit.

The best one had involved a key-lime pie. Not as good as Mimi's, but pie was pie and it was homemade, so although it had been a time suck, at least he'd gotten something out of it. Mrs. O'Leary (sixty-something and widowed) had wanted him to know she was on “Team Zeke.” The pie had been her way of “making him feel better” about the current state of his marriage.

The worst had been a call from Sandy Lubook (thirty and recently divorced) claiming someone was trying to break into her house. Zeke had arrived (with back-up) only to find a very naked Sandy waiting for him in her bathtub. At least, Zeke had assumed she'd been naked. There had been so many bubbles in the tub it had been hard to tell. It had also been hard to tell whose face had gone redder—his, or Sandy's when she realized there no less than four cops crowding her bathroom. Later, wrapped up in her bathrobe, Sandy had admitted she'd been hoping to “cheer him up” after she'd heard the news of his marriage falling apart. Zeke could only imagine what kind of cheering up Sandy had in mind.

News of his  “special 911” calls had traveled through the nearby law enforcement agencies faster than a ricocheting bullet. One of his friends in the Santa Rosa County Sheriff's department had called, faking a female voice saying “she” needed her fire put out and he was the only man with the equipment to do it.

Yeah, all of northwest Florida law enforcement was having a good laugh at his expense, all right.

He picked up the radio. “Tell whoever's calling I'm busy and send another car.”

“She said it had to be you
specifically
,” Ellie said, giggling. “Plus, according to your location, you're just a minute away. It seems like an awful lot of trouble for another car to come all the way across town.”

Zeke could feel the steam build between his ears.

Ellie had a point, however. There were only two cars on patrol duty tonight—his and Mike Stanley's. He hated to pull Mike away from his side of town for some bogus bullshit.

“What's the address?” he snapped, knowing he shouldn't kill the messenger, but his dispatcher was having way too much fun at his expense.

“130 St. Joseph Drive.”

Zeke frowned. He knew that address. It belonged to Moose and Shea Masterson.

“And the situation?”

“She said it had something to do with drunk and disorderly conduct, but that no one was hurt and that only
you
should be called. Otherwise, they would call a taxi.”

What the
? “I'm on my way.”

It took him less than a minute to get to the Masterson's home—a swanky Mediterranean ranch that took up almost half a block. Moose was some kind of financial planner and the guy did all right for himself. The porch light was on and there were cars parked along the street. Mimi's blue minivan sat in the driveway. He parked behind it and got out of the cruiser.

The front door burst open and Shea and Pilar came out. They both had an arm around Mimi, which was a good thing, because from the way his wife was staggering she would have probably fallen flat on her ass otherwise.