Dinner with the Ballentines was a polite affair. There were shared jokes, but I felt comfortable at their dinner table. They made sure to include me in the conversation and we talked a lot about Mr. Ballentine’s friends and their golf game. I know of them because they are either my friend’s dads or my father has spoken about them in my presence. They accepted me into the fold immediately—warmly. I had thinly veiled clap backs ready without need. My guard dropped completely for the first time…ever.
“After eating the best apple pie my mouth has ever had the pleasure of partaking in, I need to announce some news,” Mr. Ballentine drawls. Mercer’s mother claps her hands, pin curls shaking with her excitement as her giggle ricochets the dining room.
“Oh, good gracious, thank heavens you’re finally telling him. I’ve been losing my cool trying to keep it under wraps.” Mrs. Ballentine releases a pent-up breath.
His dad meets Mercer’s eye and grins wide. It reminds me of Mercer’s smile. When his gaze flicks to mine, the smile disappears. “The timing of this is a little bit ironic, Ms. Wellsley.”
I clear my throat and take a sip of water. The polite thing to do is nod, so I do.
“What is it, Dad?” Mercer says, excited accent twanging.
Mr. Ballentine leans back in his chair and puffs out a breath. “I’m doing it. It’s official. I’m running for mayor this election.”
“What?” I squeal the impolite question because I’m so shocked. “No one has run against my daddy for the last decade.” Possibly more. There was one time when someone tried, but it didn’t last long. Daddy probably strong-armed him from the race. Which is what I realize he’s going to do with Mercer’s dad. It makes my stomach hurt.
Mrs. Ballentine coos. “Oh, sweet Clover, we love your father and it’s not personal at all. It’s just that there are a few antiquated procedures and policies that need fixin’.”
Mercer stays quiet, his hands sitting in his lap, eyes focused on me. Waitin’ for my tornado to blow, surely. They work together. Why couldn’t they work together to fix things? I know how politics work, and I know it’s more complicated than that, but I also know Southern manners and friendships mean more to us than they do to most other people in other parts of our country.
“Congratulations, Dad,” Mercer says, raising his glass. “This is something to celebrate. I know how long you’ve been working toward this.” He’s dutiful in avoiding eye contact with me. “I’m so glad I’m here for it.”
I swallow down the nails I want to spit and choke out the words, “Congratulations, Mr. Ballentine.” I leave off, good luck, because that’s a given. My daddy is going to thrash him and here I thought everything between Mercer and me was complicated before.
Mr. Ballentine thanks us, and we toast again. Mrs. Ballentine clears plates and I help. She watches me closely, trying to read my mood. I make it difficult by wearing my pride as a shield. Not even the best lady can see through that. My mind is racing with a thousand different scenarios as I dry the china. I can fix this. If I can nip this in the bud quickly.
As soon as we’re alone in the driveway, I pull Mercer into Tannie’s old car. “You have to get him to drop out,” I nearly shout when he’s in the passenger seat.
Mercer narrows his eyes. “How can you say that? Why? He’s not good enough? Not ‘Bama royalty? Doesn’t have the right name to do the job?”
My heart drops. “It has nothing to do with names or whether he’d be good at the job. Actually, I’m sure he’d be great at the job, Mercer. My daddy doesn’t play nice when challenged. That’s why he needs to drop out.”
Mercer scoffs. “Seriously? You’re trying to tell me you’re worried about my father? That’s rich, Clover. You must think I’m an idiot. We aren’t afraid of a fight.”
I grip the steering wheel. “This changes everything, don’t you see? I will literally be sleeping with the enemy when he gets hold of this information.”
Mercer is seething mad, breaths pushing through his lips. “This is why my dad should be the new mayor. You Wellsleys are antiquated. Who cares who you’re with? It shouldn’t matter.” He looks away, shaking his head. “It’s a good thing you didn’t sleep with the enemy then, isn’t it?”
The butterflies move from my stomach to every other area inside my body. “Why do you think I want out, Mercer? This is what I’ve been trying to tell you. Look!” I shout. “You’re mad about it, and I’ve already told you this is why I’m not like them. Why I’m leaving.” I tell him to look at me. He doesn’t, so I ask louder. He turns. “You haven’t been around. The last man that challenged my dad in the race for mayor left with tail tucked between his legs. I’d hate to see anything bad happen to your dad…to your family, because of my daddy.”
“So, he shouldn’t even try? You do see the flawed logic in what you’re saying right? Admitting things need changing around here and also trying to halt the change. I think we let the people vote and the chips will fall where they may. It’s a democracy, Clover. This isn’t war. There are rules.”
I shake my head. “He plays by a whole different set of rules.”
“We’ll take our chances. I need to go celebrate with my family. Spend some time with them.”
I nod. Won’t be much to celebrate in a few weeks’ time. I know it now. The Ballentines will know it soon.
“Call me,” I shout out before he shuts the car door.
I won’t hold my breath.
Chapter Eight
___________________________________
Clover
FOR THE PASTthree days, I’ve thrown myself into my work for the festival. Everything is finalized and there are only a few loose ends to tie up. I spent five hours at the shelter working on the books and meeting a couple of new women who Winnie took in while I was busy with Mercer. My cousin Goldie knows I’m ready, and she’s working on getting a few things fixed in the duplex for my impending arrival. Even if my heart hurts thinking about Mercer, I know he gave me something in two days that took me a lifetime to reach out for. Bravery—the courage to go against the grain and to follow my passion. He still hasn’t called and it’s extremely frustrating.
