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“What do you mean? Doug Wentworth the new city manager is looking at me right now.”
“Really? Because I don’t see anyone in your office except me.”
Mimi swirled in her chair to find her mother standing in the doorway. Busted. She laid down her phone and tried for a confused look. “I could have sworn he was here just a second ago.”
Momma did not look amused. “Is it true? Is Zeke having an affair with that Cindy creature with all the hair?”
“What do you mean with all the hair?”
“She’s got those terrible looking extensions!”
Cindy had extensions? Mimi had never noticed. Of course, it had probably been months since she’d last seen Cindy. She used to go by police headquarters all the time to drop off cookies or a pie or to have lunch with Zeke, but she hadn’t done that in ages.
“Extensions and a fake tan,” Momma added. “Plus, she’s lost weight! You know what that means.”
“She’s eating better?”
“It means she’s seeing someone. Your husband, to be exact.”
Mimi resisted the urge to laugh. The idea of Cindy and Zeke…it was beyond ludicrous! But Betty Jean had just told her the exact same thing less than an hour ago.
It was probably natural people would assume there was some big motivating factor behind their separation. And Mimi and Zeke are having a time out because he’s having an affair sounded a whole lot juicier than Mimi and Zeke are having a time out because…well, because we don’t know why.
It had been over three months since she and Zeke had, according to Betty Jean, done the horizontal mamba. They’d always had a healthy sex life, but in the past year the number of times they’d made love had dwindled down to almost never. Their problems outside the bedroom had created problems inside the bedroom as well.
But Zeke would never cheat on her. Not while they were together. It would be like a lion passing up a steak dinner. It wasn’t in his nature. Although, technically, they weren’t together anymore. Legally, yes, but physically, no.
Now that he was living on his own, could he have taken that as freedom to do whatever he wanted? The idea of Zeke stuffin’ Cindy’s muffin (ack! Thanks a lot for that image, Betty Jean!) made Mimi queasy.
She grabbed a bottled water from her tote and took a long deep sip. There. That was better.
She tried to sound nonchalant. “Momma, I know it’s hard for you to accept this, but whatever’s going on between Zeke and me is private. The sooner you and the rest of this town get with the program, the easier it will be for everyone. You don’t want Cameron and Claire getting wind of these ridiculous rumors, do you? By calling me every five minutes after some busybody like Denise Holbert whispers in your ear you’re just giving credence to all these crazy rumors.”
Ann Powers sat in the chair across from the desk with a defeated look on her face. Her blue eyes looked watery. “I just…I just want you to be happy.”
“I know you do, Momma.”
“So what happened? I admit, I never thought it would last between you two, but I thought it would fall apart in the beginning, not after eighteen years of marriage. Mary, what’s going on here?”
It had never occurred to Mimi how news of her separation would affect her mother. Momma was hurting. Just like Mimi would be hurt if the situation was fast forwarded twenty years and this was Claire on the other side of the desk. A part of her wanted to tell her mother the truth. But if she did, it would be a betrayal to Zeke. And even though he was currently the most infuriating man in the world, she couldn’t do that.
“Like I said before, Momma, it’s private. Please trust me to do the right thing here. We’ll either work out our problems, or we won’t.”
Her mother looked ready to put up a fight.
“Please,” Mimi said gently.
Momma sighed. “All right. I suppose I’ll have to be satisfied with that. But I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to. Just cut me some slack, okay? This is my first real day on the job and I have a lot of work to get through.”
She eyed Mimi’s cluttered desk. “What’s all that? Mayor work?”
“These,” Mimi said, picking up the stack of memos, “are all my messages. And this”—she pointed to a thick manila folder—“is all the stuff I need to catch up on for this year’s Spring Into Summer festival.”
The mayor’s primary responsibility, besides sitting on the city council, cutting ribbons, and kissing babies on the head (did people still do that?) was to oversee the town’s largest and oldest festival.
Momma sniffed. “I certainly hope we don’t have a repeat of last year’s Harry Tuba fiasco.”
