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“Because I was washing dishes and I took it off and forgot to put it back on. I’ve been known to do that on occasion.”
He blinked. “You forgot to put on your wedding ring?”
She could practically see the cogs in his head turning now. From Zeke’s point of view it did seem awfully…unlike her. Had she subconsciously not worn her ring on purpose in the hope that Zeke would find out? She’d wanted Zeke to get upset. To fight for their marriage. Well, she’d gotten her wish. About the upset part, that is. Last night, she’d blamed Zeke for letting their separation out of the bag, but it looked as if Mimi might have to share some of the blame for that after all.
The mayor of Whispering Bay’s office was inside the town’s small (but charmingly quaint) municipal building. Located on the gulf, it was painted light yellow and had a terra cotta tile roof, allowing it to blend in with the rest of the seaside community.
Mimi had been inside this building more times than she could count. But she’d never been here in an official capacity. Technically (or very loosely, depending on how you viewed it), this building was now her ship. And she was its captain.
She walked around the spacious corner room with the shiny oak floors and the large bay window overlooking the beach. It was still hard to believe that this was her desk in her office. Especially since it still reeked of Bruce Bailey’s stinky cigars.
She opened a window and made a mental note on how to spruce up the place. Make it more “her.” A few pictures of the kids, maybe some plants. The walls were currently a drab beige color. Maybe a nice green or a sky blue would perk it up, too.
It felt like today was her first real day as mayor and she wanted to do a good job. Which meant she needed to acclimate herself to the paperwork and the computer, as well as go over a list of her expected duties. One of those duties included open office hours in which she would make herself available to the good people of Whispering Bay. Bruce had conducted business Monday through Friday from noon till two p.m., but Mimi wanted a more flexible schedule. With the kids in school, she could pretty much be here most of the day. She’d taken the morning to do some personal errands but she was now ready to hit the ground running.
She poked her head out the office door. Doreen, the receptionist, manned the lobby desk. Her job was to answer phones, make appointments, and steer people in the right direction. On Bruce’s advice, Mimi had entered the building through the back door. “It’s the professional way to do things,” he’d told her.
“Any calls for me?” Mimi asked Doreen.
Doreen pushed her reading glasses on top of her head. “Let’s see, there’s this stack,” she said, pointing to a large pile of paper slips. “Those are the people who want you to know that they’re on your side.” She pointed to another, even larger stack. “This pile is the people who aren’t taking sides, but if push comes to shove, they’re on ‘Team Mimi.’” She made finger air quotes here.
Mimi laughed nervously.
Doreen just stared back.
“Sorry about that,” Mimi said quickly. “Um, is there any actual city business?”
Doreen’s gaze settled on a disturbingly large pile off to the side. “These are the people who need something from the mayor.”
It took Mimi a few seconds to realize that she was referring to her. “Wow. Already, huh?”
Doreen pulled her reading glasses back in place and opened up her laptop.
Okay. So she wasn’t a big talker. Mimi got that. She scooped all three piles off Doreen’s desk. “Thanks again for everything.”
Doreen grunted in reply.
Mimi carried the piles of paper into her office, then dumped them onto her desk. She picked up a random slip of paper. It was a request from Dale Simmons from the Rotary Club to join them for their monthly lunch next week. She checked her calendar and wrote down the place and time. Now that she was mayor, she should probably look into joining a few civic organizations. Bruce belonged to nearly every club in and around town, including some in nearby Panama City. It was probably expected that she should do the same thing, too.
The next paper was a message from Mrs. Tomlinski, her old retired piano teacher and a member of the Gray Flamingos. It read: Hang in there! Divorce isn’t the end of the world. I should know, I’ve been through it fo
ur times! PS Have you tried Internet dating? That’s how I met husbands number three and four!
Good grief. No wonder Doreen hadn’t cracked a smile. If Mimi had been subjected to taking down all these personal messages she’d be in a bad mood, too.
She was about to delve into another message when her cell phone went off. She glanced at the caller ID. Seriously? This was call number seven from her mother. If she didn’t take it, though, Momma would just keep calling back.
“Hi, Momma.” She turned her chair to face the water. Take a deep breath. Stay calm.
“Is it true?” her mother demanded. “Did you and Zeke have lunch at The Bistro today?”
“That was less than thirty minutes ago. How on earth—”
“I heard he left when his lover called him back to police headquarters.”
“Momma, I have to go. I have…someone in the office.”
“No you don’t.”
