“Change is good,” he says, repeating the mantra he’s used since he discovered he wasn’t re-elected. “It’s going to be good for the town,” he finishes, trying to convince himself.
I’m about to begin listing all the good things he’s responsible for in Greenton, but Mercer Ballentine walks up on the stage holding his mama’s hand and my heart stops beating. The crowd cheers, beers held up in his direction. Mr. Ballentine waves and takes his wife’s hand. With Mercer in his uniform, they are literally a picture of perfection. Not the kind of perfect you see in the movies, the kind that happens in real life and everyone else calls bull crap because it seems impossible. The kind of perfect when you don’t have to fib, or lie, because reality is grander than anything anyone can make up. The family raises their held hands into the air.
“First off,” Mr. Ballentine bellows, the mic booming his voice through the speakers. “Can we get a little more celebratin’ for my son right here?” Cheers erupt. When they quiet, he goes on, “And the end of the war.” More rowdy chants and hollering.
I swallow down my emotions because I feeleverythingseeing Mercer right now. His face is scanning the crowd and I know I only have a few moments before he spots me. The anger ebbs as the bond I have with this man takes over. The bond has its own life form. His energy calls out in a Clover Wellsley catcall, a siren song, in a manner impossible for me to ignore.
After all this time has passed, I’m still affected by him in earnest. My heart rattles against my chest, I can’t catch my breath and my skin tingles. Running my hands up my bare arms, I try to make the goosebumps go away. A shiver runs up my spine when Mercer’s gaze locks on mine. A sly smile pulls one side of his mouth and his eyelids lower a fraction.
I blow out a noisy breath. My friend nudges me. She saw the look. Everyone else must have read into it, too because I feel the stares on my face. I can’t look away. Not after all of the nights I spent using my memory to form his beautiful, strong features. Even my imagination didn’t paint him handsome enough. The spotlights beaming on the stage give him an ethereal quality. I’d have a doctor check my pulse if I didn’t feel my dad’s hand on my arm.
“Strapping lad, huh?” Daddy says, squeezing my forearm to get my attention.
That breaks the haze. “You know we’re on the outs,” I whisper.
He chuckles under his breath, a real off-putting sound coming out of a Wellsley’s body, honestly. “Clover, honey, that look says everything but on the outs. I gave you a hard time at first because I wanted the best for you and didn’t want to see you get hurt.” He swallows and turns his gaze to the stage as Mr. Ballentine settles into his speech and Mercer and Mrs. Ballentine take a seat in the metal folding chairs behind the microphone stand.
“Well, you were right. I got hurt,” I say.
He shakes his head and looks back at me. “Back then, I didn’t know what was good for anyone. Including myself. A man like Mercer who puts God and his nation above all else is a risk, but that doesn’t mean he’s not best for you. You have a tender heart and I think, quite possibly, I was wrong.”
I choke on my next breath. “Did you just admit you were wrong?” I taunt under my breath, keeping my eyes forward so it doesn’t appear as if we aren’t paying attention to the stage. “The sky is going to fall at any second.”
Daddy smiles widely and wraps an arm around my shoulder. “It’s rude to carry on like this. Focus on the stage, Clover,” he replies, eyes narrowing in a way that looks like he’s listening intently.
Mr. Ballentine is confident, his suit crisp, and his eyes bright. He clutches the microphone and walks as he concludes his brief speech. “We are a strong community and I want to thank you for giving me a chance. I’ve been behind the scenes for a long time lobbying for our people. Things are settling in our country, but Greenton won’t stay stagnant. We will move forward with Southern grace, tenacity, and grit. I want to thank the former Mayor Wellsley for being a worthy friend, colleague, and opponent.”
My daddy tips his imaginary hat toward Mr. Ballentine and wears his work smile. Eyes are on me as well, so I flash the pageant grin, avoiding Mercer’s searing gaze.
Mr. Ballentine turns to look at his family and then back at the crowd, at me. “My family wants to thank everyone and start off this season with a bang. Mercer will be serving drinks at the Dizzy Rocket and there will be a catered meal, family-style. Please walk over there with us and accept our thanks. Here’s to the future, to passion, and to a community I’m fortunate to be part of.” The crowd erupts with applause.
I turn on the picnic table to face Goldie. “Mercer serving drinks, huh? Might have to check this out for myself.”
The smirk she gives in reply is devious. Tannie inserts her opinion on the tactic we need to deploy, and I agree. Daddy kisses me on the cheek. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Please,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You can’t use that line anymore.”
He drops his hands into his pants pockets. “Giving second chances isn’t something you should think about. Everyone deserves one or two.” Then he leans over, kisses the top of my head like he did when I was a child and saunters over to where my mama is chatting with a group of her friends.
The look she gives my father when he reaches down to hold her hand is swoon-worthy, real love story sort of stuff and I think for the thousandth time tonight how much better life will be because my daddy didn’t get what he thought he wanted.
“To DR,” I proclaim, taking Goldie’s beer and finishing it. I fish out my cell phone and tell Jack and Preston to meet us there. What is it Mercer said?You do it right the first time or you do it again.
Chapter Twenty
___________________________________
Mercer
I’M SLINGING DRINKS, wearing my uniform, and not only have I earned Glenda’s favor, the town is eating it up. I have no clue if Clover is going to show up. When she looked at me while I was up on stage during my dad’s speech, the spark was still there. It was alive and buzzing. She might not want to talk in public, so I need to settle in for a long night and the possibility that I’ll make a house call after this party is over. Moods are jubilant, everyone soaring high. Free alcohol and dinner paired with nothing but positive things in the news is really something to behold. The world is happy. Greenton is no exception.
I slide a drink to Billy-Jo, and she winks at me, her heavy makeup cracking as her eye wrinkles fold. I’m trying to make a Miami Vice when I hear Clover’s voice. I look up, and my stomach slides up to my throat. “Clover,” I say, stopping the blender.
“You,” she says, neck working as she swallows. Goldie and Tannie are next to her, followed by Jack and Preston. Jack’s shiner makes me cringe. Five seats clear as Goldie gives the current patrons the evil eye.
“My friends and I would like a drink,” Clover says. I blend the last part to the drink I’m working on and pour it for the customer. “White wine if you have it,” she adds. I nod at the others in the group, my token of greeting, and to Jack another apology. I also plead with Preston to forgive me for my atrocious behavior. He merely winks.
Walking to stand in front of her, I place my hands on the bar. “That it then? You here for drinks only?” I take out a house bottle of white and pour them all glasses and slide them down.
