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“Don’t forget the part when he told you to get your fat ass in gear,” Shea said.
“He did not say that,” Lauren said.
Kitty laughed. “Oh yes, he did. Basically, I was supposed to help Ted buy a bunch of beach front property, almost all of which belongs to Earl Handy. Including the old senior center and the land it’s on. But in the end, Earl decided to sell the building back to the city and squashed Ted’s plans.”
“Thanks to Kitty helping old Earl see the light,” Shea said.
“Earl’s your great uncle, isn’t he?” Pilar asked Lauren.
Lauren nodded. “He’s Daddy’s uncle, but we don’t see him very much. He’s…suffering from dementia.”
“Too bad,” Kitty said. “He was sharp as a tack just a couple of years ago.”
“If Earl is your great uncle, does that mean you’re rich, too?” Frida asked.
“All the Handy’s are rich,” someone said.
Mimi made a face. “Unfortunately, I must disagree with that.”
“That’s right, you’re a Handy, too.” Frida looked between Lauren and Mimi. “How are you two related, again?”
“I think we’re like third cousins or something,” Mimi said. “But honestly, I think I’m related to half the town. Lauren’s granddaddy was Earl’s younger brother and it’s Earl’s side of the family that was smart enough to buy up all the beachfront property.”
Lauren squirmed in her seat. It was true. Daddy was from the wealthy side of Whispering Bay’s Handy clan. It was his daddy who had set up a trust fund for all his grandchildren, Lauren included. She knew she was lucky, and she was certainly grateful, but at the same time, she also felt a bit…unworthy. Despite the fact her daddy had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he’d worked hard to build up his own business. Just like Lauren planned to do herself.
“It looks like Ted hasn’t changed his ways. At least not with women,” Lauren said, hoping to change the subject off money.
“Well, I wouldn’t have gotten in a car with that sort of derogatory bumper sticker, either,” Pilar said, “so good for you!”
“And good for Nate Miller giving you a ride home, but you should have called me,” Mimi said.
“I would have, but I hated to interrupt your night with Zeke. Plus, there was a crowd gathering and I didn’t trust you to not flatten Ted on his ass. Believe me, I was tempted, but I’m not running for mayor.”
“Thanks for looking out for my rep. You’re right, if he’d still been there I would have probably had a few choice words for him and ended up on the front page of the Gazette.”
“Speaking of mayoral campaigns,” Kitty said, “The election is less than a few months away and we need to discuss your next fundraiser.”
“I say we sell tickets and have women take turns throwing rocks at Ted Ferguson,” Frida said. “We’ll make a fortune.”
Everyone had a good laugh at that, then spent the next ten minutes or so brainstorming ideas. “What about doing some kind of craft booth at the Spring Into Summer festival?” Shea suggested.
“The election is in April, so that won’t help,” Kitty said.
The annual Spring Into Summer festival was a day long affair that was always held the first Saturday in June. The opening ceremonies began with a 10K run along the beach. There were food trucks and arts and crafts booths for the adults, and bounce houses and sack races for the kids. The festival always concluded with a concert and a dance. Most of the local businesses advertised heavily, some of them by giving away promos or helping to underwrite the festival itself. Last year, Lauren’s business was in its infancy and she hadn’t had time to get a booth together. But this year she hoped to sponsor one to promote the shop.
“How much does a booth cost?” Lauren asked.
“Two hundred,” Pilar said. “Unless you’re a non-profit.”
That sounded reasonable enough. She could do a whole summer wardrobe preview. People came from all over the panhandle for the festival so it was good advertisement. Not that Lauren thought it would turn her business around, but she had to try something.
Kitty rang the Bunco bell to get their attentions back on track. “As Mimi’s campaign manager, I say we focus on a grassroots movement. Let’s face it, we aren’t going to outspend Bruce Bailey, but we sure can outman him. I suggest we start a door-to-door campaign. We have enough money in the campaign treasury to print out flyers and Pilar’s already come up with an awesome slogan, Mimi For Mayor. It’s short, and sweet, and everyone already knows who she is, so there’s no use beating a dead horse.”
“I could probably get my mother to help,” Lauren said. She thought back to what Nate said to her the other day at the office. How Momma was at high risk for depression. She had to reluctantly agree, but Momma didn’t need drugs; she needed something to get her mind off Daddy’s problems. Of course, she was already the Queen of the Fundraiser. With only twenty-four hours in a day it was amazing how much she managed to squeak in.
Lauren’s cell phone pinged. Speak of the devil. It was a text message from Momma.
The eagle has landed!!!! Call me ASAP.
