he respected and enjoyed working with. He would miss her when he left. Not that it mattered.
He returned his attention to his computer, but after a few minutes, he shut it down and grabbed his suit jacket. Suddenly the bank president’s office had gotten too small.
He told Diane he was leaving and headed toward the parking lot in the rear. As he approached the double glass door, he saw a woman hurrying toward it. She had a small child by each hand and something about her was familiar.
He held open the door and smiled. “Afternoon.”
“Oh, Mr. Whitefield. How nice to see you.” She nodded. “I’m Becca Jackson. I have the loan for the day-care center in my home.”
“Oh, right. How are you?”
“Great. Busy and tired, but business is wonderful and I love what I do. Thank you again for approving my loan. You’re a lifesaver.”
“My pleasure.”
She stepped into the bank and he moved toward his car. As he walked, he wondered how difficult it would be for her to obtain other financing after the bank closed. She shouldn’t have much of a problem. Of course the new bank would want to go over her profit and loss statements, and as a starting business, she wouldn’t have much in the way of profit.
Not his problem, he told himself and got in his car.
As he drove through town, he found himself noticing different businesses that had loans with the bank. Some would be just fine, but others would never be able to find other funding. Then there were the houses. How many had their loans with him? Ten thousand? Twenty?
He reminded himself he didn’t care. These people were nothing to him. He had a plan, and it wasn’t about staying in Los Lobos. He wanted to destroy everything his uncle had ever cared about. Maybe then he would be able to sleep at night.
He turned into a residential neighborhood and pulled up to the sidewalk. Small, one-story homes lined the street. The lawns were well kept, the trees nearly touched over the center of the street. Families lived here. Babies were born and grew up. Fathers mowed the lawns on Saturday morning.
He’d wanted that once. Years ago, after his dad had walked out, Riley had dreamed about a simple life filled with everyday activities. He’d wanted a house instead of a single wide. Two parents instead of just one. He’d wanted his mom happy, not crying when she thought he was asleep because she couldn’t stretch the money far enough to buy him school supplies or get them cable. Sometimes she’d only made dinner for him, while she went hungry.
He’d hated that more than anything. And his uncle, who could have fixed it all, had simply turned his back on his only sister. The old bastard had even let her die.
Riley wouldn’t forget that-not ever.
He parked the car and turned off the engine. After slipping into his jacket, he walked up to the closest house and knocked on the front door. A woman in her early forties answered.
“Good afternoon,” he said cheerfully. “My name is Riley Whitefield and I’m running for mayor.”
The woman glared at him. “I guess you are. I recognize your picture. If you’re here about the election, you can forget it. I would have voted for you before. I don’t like that weasel Yardley, but compared to you, he’s a saint.”
“Excuse me?” Riley had no idea how he could have offended someone he’d never met. “What changed your mind?”
“Gracie Landon. I don’t actually know her, but I’ve heard all the stories. She was crazy about you. Loved you with her whole heart and you never appreciated it. You still don’t.”
No. This was not happening.
“I can assure you Gracie and I never…” Never what? Slept together? “She’s not pregnant and if she were, I would marry her right away.”
“Oh, sure. That’s romantic. You’ll take her on if your careless behavior screws up her life. Wow. Talk about noble.” She shook her head. “You don’t get it, do you? Gracie is a legend. She loved with a fearlessness we all admire. But you never understood what a gift she offered. You only saw her as a pain in the ass. Well, you’re wrong. Her love is a precious gift and if you’re too stupid to see that, you’re too stupid to be mayor.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“HOW DID IT GO?” Zeke asked later that evening when they met at Riley’s house to finalize their campaign plans.
“Interesting.”
Riley was already on his second Scotch. He figured he might as well go for a third later. The situation would be a hell of a lot easier to deal with drunk. Not that three drinks would even get him close, but it was a start.
“Define interesting,” Zeke said. “Interesting good?”
Riley closed his eyes as he relived the afternoon he’d spent going door-to-door in Los Lobos.
“I visited about thirty houses where someone was home. I’d say about eight-five percent of them basically told me they wouldn’t vote for me until hell froze over.”
Zeke swore. “It’s the Gracie thing, isn’t it?”
Riley nodded. Who knew that something from his past would jump up and bite him so firmly in the ass? “It was those damn newspaper articles,” he said grimly. “People who had never heard of Gracie or me feel as if they lived a part of our lives with us. They feel involved. Right now they’re taking her side and assuming I’m the bastard in all this.”
To think he’d come so far only to lose it over something like this.
“You must want to kill her, huh?” Zeke said.
“Not really.”
Riley knew it was probably the logical reaction, but he couldn’t bring himself to blame Gracie. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Oh, sure, he was past angry. It was ninety-seven
Which brought him to an interesting question. Why
And that was the kicker, he thought as he stared at the bookshelf across from his chair and finished his drink. He didn’t want to take back what had happened. Not the part that included her.
“So what are they saying?” Zeke asked. “That you should treat her better?”
“That I should marry her.”
“So why don’t you?”
Riley turned to his office manager and glared. “Marry her?”
“For the election. Listen, it’s not a crazy idea. You could work something out with her. A temporary marriage to win the election. You wouldn’t even have to marry her. You could just get engaged. Gracie’s a sweetie. She’ll say yes.”
She probably would, he thought. Knowing Gracie. She would feel horrible about what had happened and do everything in her power to make it right.
“No.”
Zeke stared at him. “What? No? Just like that? You’re not even going to ask her?”
“No.”
“Why not? It’s the perfect solution. What’s the problem?”
Interesting question, and one Riley couldn’t answer. He would have married Gracie if she’d been pregnant, but he wouldn’t do it this way. Not even a fake engagement. Besides, with his luck, an engagement wouldn’t be enough. He’d have to go through with it.
“I won’t screw with her life like that,” Riley said. “Leave it alone. We’ll come up with another solution.”
“I don’t have another solution.”
