I’ve barely had my first sip of coffee before Sheriff Napier knocks on my office door. The guy is a few years older than me and I get the feeling he’s as underestimated by this town in his position as I am in mine. He grew up here, too many people babysat him or remember him skipping school.
Today, he’s got bags under his eyes, but his hair is neat and his uniform is crisp. He’s not a bad-looking guy, with a sharp jaw and clear blue eyes. I’m very glad I feel zero physical attraction to him, since it could make my job beyond awkward.
“Good morning, Sheriff,” I say.
He slumps into the chair in front of my desk. It’s a common pose for him to take. When he’s in here, it’s usually because he’s frustrated about something. “Shandy Leviston ripped up two more speeding tickets today. She’s telling tourists they don’t mean anything.”
I take another fortifying sip of coffee. “She was at the business association meeting, Ned. She agreed that ticketing the touristsis a good way to bring in revenue. She even complained about them speeding past her shop.”
He winces. “Sorry, Mayor, but that doesn’t surprise me. I’ve seen it happen too many times to count. People who’ve been in this town for generations have seen businesses fail or thrive based on the goodwill of the tourists. That’s why we had the stupid rule in the first place about not ticketing tourists. No one wants to piss them off.”
“The tourists are the ones breaking the law. They have no reason to be pissed off.”
He chews on his lip for a moment, thinking. Sheriff Ned Napier always considers his words like he’s had decades of learning to be careful with them. “No matter how many urban tourists we get here, Yuletide will always be a small town at heart. Change doesn’t come easy.”
I wish I had a fridge to jump on so I could hiss at everyone. I was welcomed into the role as mayor, but as soon as I started suggesting new ways to do things, everyone turned on me. Very few people have done it to my face, but I’ve heard the rumors. And, if I haven’t heard them, my staff or my friends have told me about them. The town council doesn’t say anything to me, they just block everything I try to implement or approve. “Let me guess. Shandy blamed the total fiasco on me.”
He makes his hand into the shape of a gun and points it at me. “Bingo.”
This is taking me back to my boarding school days when I was the outsider, bullied by the wealthy elitist kids. It’s a horrible feeling to know people hate me, but I’m not about to curl up in the fetal position and continue to be pelted with rocks.
No one will see how much better things can be around here if my plans aren’t actually implemented. “I want you to fine Shandy.”
Ned Napier sits up straight in his seat, eyes going wide. “She’s seventy years old. And beloved in this town.”
I shrug, pretending a nonchalance I don’t really feel. “And she’s broken the law.” Shit, has she? “It is a law, right? You can’t go around telling people they don’t need to worry about a speeding ticket and ripping it up, can you?”
He rubs his clean-shaved jaw. “Technically, it’s not against the law, but it’s definitely not on the side of the law. You should pass a new ordinance that anyone ripping up speeding tickets and telling tourists they don’t have to pay them will be fined.”
I swallow my groan. He’s right. Unfortunately, I can’t unilaterally pass a new ordinance. “I’ll take it to the council.” Not that any of them will listen to me. I lean forward, elbows on the desk. “Can you arrest council members for not taking my calls and refusing to meet?”
He stands and heads for the door. “Sorry, Mayor. Can’t help you there. But I will keep giving out tickets to tourists. I think you’ve got a great plan here.”
“Good to know I’ll have one vote in the next election.” Which is coming up in another eleven months. Since I was elected in an emergency referendum after the last mayor left, we’ve got to have another official election in November.
He gives me a sympathetic look and leaves me alone with a phone blinking with messages and the certainty that no one in this town is actually going to let me improve things around here.
I mean, Yuletide is adorable, but its revenue balances on a very thin line between just making it and bankruptcy. The town needs to bring in more money and doing things the way they’ve always been done isn’t the answer.
“Mayor Porter,” my assistant Roni says as she steps into my office. “Charles Rutherford is here to see you.”
I bite back a sigh and glance ruefully at my laptop, full of a long list of things I’d hoped to get done today. “Send him in.”
Charles saunters into my office with a cheery smile. His brown skin is wrinkled, but his dark eyes still sparkle with energy. His white hair is cropped close to his head, and he’s dressed in a suit like he has been every time I’ve seen him. A suit that appears to have been tailored to his long, lean form.
He’s old enough to be my grandfather, but I suspect he was a fox back in his day.
I stand. “Good morning, Mr. Rutherford.”
As he always does, he shakes my hand over my desk and doesn’t sit until I’ve taken my seat.
“I assume you have a message from the council,” I say. Charles is the oldest member of the council and the one they always send to talk to me because they think I’ll go easy on the older, affable man.
“Maybe I just want to visit with my favorite mayor.” He folds his hands on his lap and leans forward. “It’s too early in the morning for you to look so stressed.”
He’s definitely here to butter me up for something, but he’s also one of the best listeners I’ve ever met. “I might be less stressed if shop owners weren’t ripping up speeding and parking tickets and telling tourists not to worry about them.”
His brows rise to his hairline. “I thought the business association agreed to the new plan?”
