Today, my ensemble is a caramel pencil skirt with a white sleeveless wraparound top that ties at the side, tan pumps, small gold hoops, and of course, my opal necklace. I press my fingers to it as the elevator carries me to the top floor.
I’m known here, so friendly greetings are exchanged when I step into the outer office. Millie, Diablo’s assistant, brings me a glass of water while I wait. I gulp it down and hope I don’t look a hot mess. I think of popping into the restroom, but it’s too late. Diablo’s door opens.
“Hello, Rayne.”
“Gabriel.” I smile. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”
“I’m always happy to make time for you.” He gestures to one of the guest chairs. “Have a seat.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you like more water?” he asks as I place the empty glass on a coaster protecting the polished mahogany desk.
“I’m fine.”
He nods and takes his seat. At forty-one, Diablo is clean-shaven with raven hair that McDreamy fans would fawn over, dark eyes, and olive skin that hints at his Latine and Italian roots. He married his college sweetheart, and they have four children—one boy and three girls, all under twelve—smiling out from framed photos featured prominently behind his desk.
A family man, as he likes to remind his constituents. Trustworthy. Dependable. Invested in Bayside’s future.Expansion is the only way forward.That’s his campaign slogan. I don’t disagree. Where we diverge is on how that growth happens. He wants big and fast. I want steady and sustainable.
“Kudos on the winter campaign,” he says.
“The social media traction’s encouraging. I’m optimistic that we’ll see more visitors this season.” Summer tourism here on the coast booms, but the goal is to nurture the local economy year-round by drawing people in during the quieter months.
“So…” He leans back, fingers tented, his campaign-winning smile firmly in place. A former banker and born politician. Not abad guy. We just don’t see things the same way. “What’s on your mind?” he asks.
I clear my throat. “After careful consideration—out of love for this town, and my desire to be more involved at the decision-making level—I’ve decided to run for mayor.”
To his credit, he barely blinks. But his Adam’s apple, visible above the collar of his shirt, works overtime.
“I wanted you to hear it from me,” I add, “before the announcement goes out this afternoon.”
“I appreciate the heads-up,” he says pleasantly. “Running for office is a major undertaking.”
“I realize that, and I wouldn’t be doing it if I wasn’t prepared for what it requires.”
He studies me for a moment. “Wouldn’t you say I’m doing good things for this town?”
I pause—not to hesitate, but to choose my words. “In some respects, yes. I support many of your improvements to our roads and the old bridge. Your small business loans program has been well received and offers increased opportunity. But…”
I firmly meet his gaze. “That won’t matter if your development plans squeeze local business owners. What you’re proposing destroys a substantial part of our waterfront and invites large-scale developers at the expense of small businesses. Long-term, that approach would destabilize the infrastructure and hollow out our economy. I believe there’s a more sustainable alternative.”
“I value your opinions, Rayne,” he says, maybe sincere, maybe not—he’s so polished, it’s hard to tell. “I’d be happy to give you a seat at the table to work with me on the initiatives that matter to you, and perhaps find some middle ground.”
“I appreciate the offer, but it’s not enough to sit at the table where you still make the final decisions. The people of Bayside should have a choice. And I intend to present that.”
He leans forward, his pleasant façade still in place, but the air feels a little cooler. “It appears your mind is made up.”
“It is. I’m tendering my resignation, effective end of the month. I’ll put Symone Francis in as interim Director. Her promotion is the committee’s decision, but I put my full support behind her.”
“You’re quitting your job to run?”
“It will require all my energy,” I confirm and press on. “Since heading up the Waterfront Committee would be a conflict of interest, I’ll step down immediately, and my co-chair, Chaz Delgado, will take over.”
“Seems you have it all planned out.”
“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.”
“Well, then, I look forward to the challenge.” He stands, extending his hand. “May the best opponent win.”
