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6
Lucas shook another hand and thanked another community member for attending the private session, especially on a weekend.
The crowd was thinning, which meant he needed to address the other issue, most likely waiting in the hallway.
There was no denying he was dreading that inevitable confrontation.
The last to leave was Maynard Timmons, who seemed rather nervous, his brows dotted with sweat as he politely waited his turn to shake Lucas’s hand and say his formal goodbyes.
Armed with information, Lucas gave Maynard a hearty pat on the back while he shook his hand.
“I want to thank you for coming today, Councilman.”
Maynard nodded, while blushing and stammering, “No, I… I mean we, as in all of us, want to thank you, Mr. Mayor.”
Lucas nodded. Maintaining a friendly distance so as not to cause any misunderstandings.
“You know, Maynard, I like your idea about the community expanding its outreach to the children in some of the more remote areas of the coast, but I’d like to see it done on a more consistent and measured basis. I want you to think about what success would look like with such an endeavor. Not just throwing money at the problem, allowing us to puff out our chests and feel better about ourselves. Rather to identify the target metrics we would need to track and maintain to ensure a truly worthwhile project.”
Maynard’s demeanor seemed to calm while considering Lucas’s suggestion. “You mean, for example, if we were to offer after-school tutoring for those underserved children, measuring their progress as a proof point, and maybe even justification for further funding? Criteria, not only based on academic pursuits but life skills, such as how to apply for a mortgage, prepare your taxes, and develop a budget.”
What do you know? Along with a calm demeanor, he was articulate. No more stammering or hem-hawing. And he was beginning to internalize Lucas’s concept of more measurable, data-driven projects.
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about. I want to introduce you to someone I came across during a mayoral forum in Atlanta last month. He’s gaining success in that very area, just north of us on the outskirts of St. Mary’s. His name is Hal Humphries and he’s making a real difference.”
Not to mention a potential romantic fit for Maynard.
“I would be happy to meet with Mr. Humphries.”
“Good, good. Thank you for doing this. Let me give him a call on Monday and I’ll set something up between the two of you.”
They said their goodbyes and Lucas finally made his way to the empty hallway, looking for the bane of his existence since third grade, and the mother of his newly discovered fourteen-year-old daughter.
Ironic how he was doing a better job dealing with the fact he had a daughter, than the woman he’d conceived her with.
All things considered, understandable.
Earlier that morning, unable to skip this particular session, he asked the Chief if he and Lorraine would mind spending the day with Mia. He had a closed-session council meeting that was too late to reschedule. As expected, the Chief was happy to oblige and Mia was equally okay with the plan, as he was the only other person she had met in Wayward, other than Bernadette.
Making his way down the vast hall, Lucas pulled up the sleeves of his pullover and checked the view out front. The parking lot was nearly empty except for Maynard’s Lexus, who was just now pulling away, and another car he didn’t recognize.
Searching for a trail of fire and brimstone, he considered the metal sign protruding from the wall above a swing door that said, “Ladies.”
He cocked an eye and grunted.
Debatable.
He knocked. Waited. No response.
Pushing the swing door open, he paused before one of the middle stalls. Twisting his head to the side, looking downward, he spied, four-inch heels and a long patch of dried mud on the right ankle.
The door wasn’t even latched, as he pushed it inward to find the guilty party, Birdie Wellborn, standing to one side with both hands holding onto the strap of her purse.
Her beige, skintight dress must have been off-white at one time, and it smelled of some type of briny substance.
“You okay?” he asked with a smirk.
She glanced past him. “Never better.”
