Soaring (59 page)

I still nodded like we had an understanding and gave her a small smile.

“Let’s get going.”

“Guys! Hurry!” Cill shouted from the front of the house.

“Coming!” I shouted back, walking out of Aisling’s room, feeling Mickey’s girl following me.

* * * * *

We hit the Town Hall late, so at a bad time. Most everyone had taken a seat and it was clear the meeting was about to begin.

Mickey hadn’t taken a seat. When we walked in, he was standing off to the side at the back talking with a tall, very handsome man wearing a sheriff shirt complete with badge, this paired with jeans.

Like he could sense our presence, we’d barely entered before Mickey looked to us.

He lifted his chin. I smiled and he looked back to the man he was with. They spoke a few words, clapped each other on the arm in a way I knew, if either of them had done that to me, I’d have a bruise, then Mickey broke off and sauntered our way.

He looked amongst us but his gaze stopped on his son.

Then when he arrived at us, he asked, “You got an offer I can’t refuse?”

“What?” Cillian asked back.

Mickey gave his boy an easy grin, curled a hand on the side of his neck, tugged him side to side and answered, “Nothin’.” He let Cill go and looked to Ash. “Hey, baby.”

She looked to him then to his arm. “Hey, Dad.”

He looked to me.

I gave him big eyes.

He took them in, bent and touched his mouth to mine.

“Hey,” he said when he’d moved away.

“Hey back,” I replied.

“Does my son have a tommy gun in the Rover?” he asked and I smiled.

“This hairdo is better than the first, trust me,” I replied.

His eyes started dancing.

“If we can all take seats, we’ll begin,” someone said over a microphone.

“Let’s move,” Mickey ordered, shifting out of the way for us to precede him then following us.

As a pack, we moved down the center aisle of the angled bench seating that looked like a church but was much smaller and had zero decoration except a couple bulletin boards covered in fliers informing Magdalene residents of various happenings.

We shifted into a bench, Ash then Cill, me then Mickey.

We sat down and the minute we did, an older man who sat in the bench in front of us and had been watching our progress turned fully to Mickey. He had short cropped, metal-gray hair that was thinning on the top and red cheeks like Santa Claus.

“Mick,” he greeted.

“Bobby,” Mickey greeted back, lifting an arm and stretching it along the seat behind me. “You haven’t met Amy.”

Bobby turned smiling brown eyes my way and said, “Nope, but I licked the crumbs outta one of those plastic things, which gave me a hint of what has now become legendary brownies to the MFD.”

I loved that and showed him by smiling brightly and promising, “I’ll make more for Mickey to bring in when you’re around.” I lifted my hand to him. “It’s good to meet you, chief.”

He reached over the back of the bench and squeezed my hand, replying, “Likewise.” He let me go and his focus went to Mickey. “Quick question, son. You into somethin’ with Boston Stone?”

I felt my body get tight as I felt Mickey’s eyes move to me.

I turned my head, caught his, licked my lips and rolled them together.

“I see,” Bobby muttered and we both looked back to him.

“What’s up?” Mickey asked.

Bobby couldn’t answer because we heard, “The Magdalene Town Council Meeting is now in session.”

“Later,” Bobby mouthed before turning back around.

I turned my eyes to Mickey. “Honey,” I called.

He looked down to me. “Douche,” he stated. “Don’t worry, Amy.” He then gave his attention back to the front where there was a panel of five seated behind a long, tall, official-looking bench desk.

The one in the middle was saying something, but I was thinking that I was under the impression, considering I hadn’t heard from him in some time, that Boston Stone finally got the hint and stopped calling me. We’d had one date. We’d had one kiss (well, one and a half).

What we had not done was make avowals of love.

So whatever he was up to that had to do with Mickey couldn’t be about me.

Surely.

A variety of business was swiftly brought up and voted on without any comment from members of the public. This was not surprising since the room was not quite half full, and I suspected attendance was greater that night because the volunteers of the MFD were there.

Clearly, the town of Magdalene didn’t involve themselves too much in town business and from how very boring it was, I didn’t blame them.

Ash and Cill were playing games on their phones (due to the Rhiannon situation, Cill now had his own) when the issue of additional town resources allocated to the Magdalene Fire Department was raised.

Evidently, the head honcho sitting in the middle thought it would be voted through without demur because when he asked for public comment, he missed movement in the room and immediately started, “Right then we’ll vo—”

“One moment, Councilman Whitfield,” a smooth voice I knew called out.

I looked to the side, my neck muscles tensing, and watched Boston Stone strolling arrogantly (and you could stroll arrogantly, he was proof) up the center aisle.

“Boston, of course, take the podium,” the head honcho, apparently Councilman Whitfield, invited.

Boston did just that, lifting an attractive, slim leather briefcase in front of him to rest it on top of the podium and pulling out papers.

Once he had them, he started, “I can only assume with this referendum being raised, our town council members aren’t aware that, nationwide, the incidence of fires is on a dramatic decline and has been for the past decade.” He then raised the papers he’d gotten out and shook them officiously.

The inference the council had not done their homework was not lost on any of them, they didn’t like it and they showed it.

“We are aware of that, Boston,” Councilman Whitfield retorted, sharing this verbally.

“Then I must admit to being curious, since that’s the case, as to why you’d be allocating more funds to a city service that should, in fact, be getting less,” Boston replied.

Mickey straightened beside me and both his children looked up from their phones.

On my part, I found my hands forming fists.

“Due to their function and its importance to public safety, I can’t imagine anyone would begrudge the current funds the MFD receives,” a female council member off to the left stated.

“I’m a citizen of Magdalene and I’m doing just that,” Boston returned.

“I would assume you’re in the minority,” she retorted.

“Please don’t assume, Louise,” Boston replied condescendingly, shifting some papers. “To that end, I’ll present you with a requested action, voted approved by the members of the Magdalene Club, that this referendum be deferred until further research into the need of fire services and the funds allocated to that need are thoroughly researched. After which we call for a report to be offered to the citizens prior to an open public vote on this issue.”

Bobby twisted his neck, gave Mickey a dour look, mouthed, “Asshole,” and turned back.

Councilman Whitfield held up his hand resignedly and invited, “I’ll have a look at that if you don’t mind, Boston.”

“Not at all,” Boston murmured into the microphone in front of him, moved from the podium, presented the papers to Whitfield and returned to the podium. “As you’ll see in the addendum attached to that paper that a goodly number of businessmen and women in this community, who voted that action, are concerned about this issue.”

“In other words, the rich folk, thinkin’ they’re high and mighty and their money should get them attention, wanna throw a fit about somethin’ none of us get but if they get their way, could put us in danger,” a man called from the gallery.

Whitfield looked from his study of the papers over the reading specs he’d slid on in the direction of the voice. “Tom, if you have something to say, we ask you say it during your turn at the podium.”

“And make me listen to this crap in the meantime?” Tom, who I saw was the Tom who ran The Shack on the wharf, returned.

“Everyone has a voice in this meeting and if a citizen takes their time to share their thoughts with this council, as servants to this town, it’s our duty to listen,” another council member replied.

“Not if their thoughts are full of it and it isn’t worth your time,” Tom shot back.

There was a titter and I caught Mickey grinning at his lap.

“Tom—” the council member started but was interrupted when someone else spoke up.

“This is crazy. The boys at the MFD volunteer. And just last week, they put their asses on the line, makin’ sure the entire jetty didn’t go up in flames like it could have.”

“I’d ask you to refrain from using coarse language, Jeff,” the council woman named Louise requested firmly.

“What else would you call it?” Jeff asked. “Straight up fire or fire damage closed down that whole shopping area and if the worst happened, those same things coulda took
out
the folks fightin’ it. I call that puttin’ your ass on the line. Now, no disrespect, Louise, but I didn’t hear about you in your gear fightin’ that blaze. I sure as hell didn’t hear about Stone doin’ it.”

That got another titter.

“They aren’t all asking for salaries,” someone else called loudly. “They want one salary for one guy. Town’s over two hundred years old and we never paid a single firefighter. Only pay a chief and he acts for the whole county so we don’t even pay his full salary. Think it’s about time we did that. Shoot, if it was up to me, they’d
all
get paid.”

“Yeah,” Jeff said.

“I agree,” a woman piped up.

“How about that,” Tom put in, standing. He looked around. “Who’s for a deferral of the vote so the council can take a look at this referendum and find some blasted money to pay
all
our boys who wear a fire helmet?”

“Me!” Jeff shouted.

“That’s got my vote,” the woman yelled.

“Me too!” a new man called, standing up to do it.

“I’m in too!” a woman added, also standing up and doing it continuing to speak. “We don’t do this, what’s next? We ask all the sheriff’s officers to do their jobs volunteer too? That’s crazy!”

A gavel banged and Councilman Whitfield called, “Quiet!”

Tom wasn’t quiet.

He looked to Boston and remarked, “You know, Stone, just because a pretty girl prefers a firefighter to you doesn’t mean all the boys at that firehouse need to suffer for you bein’ jilted. Far’s I know, you got served this lesson at least once before. Learn, son. You may actually land a girl one day if you stop actin’ like an ass.”

Oh God, he was referring to Mickey and me.

Small town.

Someone
kill me
.

I felt my cheeks flush as I sunk in my seat because several eyes turned Mickey and my way.

Yes.

Somehow they all knew.

Someone…
kill me
.

“Cool, Dad,” Cillian stated under his breath but under it for a boy his age, which meant he did it loudly. “You beat out Boston Stone for Amy? Awesome!”

“Right! Quiet! Order!” Whitfield commanded on another bang of his gavel.

Before anyone could disobey, he trained his eyes again over his specs on Boston and continued speaking.

“I’ve had a quick read of this, Boston, and I’m sorry to say that the current referendum we’re discussing was communicated to the citizens of Magdalene for their examination four months ago via our usual procedures, which means anyone could access and study it thoroughly. That time allowed plenty of opportunity for any resident of this town to share with the members of this council their concerns or to be present at this meeting to have their voice. The names on this document represent a negligible percentage of the inhabitants of our town and thus, I must say, it really carries no sway during these proceedings.”

“Have you had a close
look
at those names, Whitfield?” Boston asked threateningly.

“I have indeed,” Whitfield retorted immediately, flicking the papers to his side so the woman sitting to his left could take them. “And I’ll take this opportunity to share with you news I hadn’t intended to announce until the next election, but Sue and I are moving to Florida next year. I won’t be seeking reelection. However, your implication that the names on that document, some of whom donated to my past election campaigns, would sway me while I’m sitting in this seat is
most
unwelcome.”

At his tone, a tone that said it was more than unwelcome, it was insulting, slanderous and entirely unacceptable, meant everyone quieted and those standing sat.

“I meant nothing of the sort,” Boston returned.

“You most certainly did,” Whitfield bit out.

I smiled, deciding I liked our head honcho Councilman.

He kept talking.

“Now, if you have nothing further, I’ll ask you to vacate the podium so if someone else has something they wish to say, they can do so.” He looked beyond Boston and through the gallery. “I’ll state, however, that you all have also had an opportunity to study the referendum prior to attending this evening’s meeting. We will not entertain a delayed vote or an alternate resolution to be put to the vote. If you feel the town should consider compensating the entirety of the members of our fire department, request a new referendum to be researched by the council and presented for discussion and vote at a future meeting. I’ll warn you, however, this town relies
heavily
on the goodwill and generosity of time and skills from our firefighting force and we’re all aware of it. If we could have afforded to pay them, we would have. But if this town is content with increased taxes in order to see to that, that also can be discussed.”

“We just want one boy, Whit!” Bobby shouted. His head turned the way of a woman who was highly attractive, had great hair, and I could tell was definitely fit even only seeing her shoulders and head. She was sitting one bench in front of him and down, looking over her shoulder at him, appearing miffed. Then he finished, “Or a girl! Whatever!”