Page 74 of In a Word, Yes

“Got any advice for me before I head over to interview Matt Hickey?” I ask.

Between the proposed bypass, which would divert through-traffic away from the downtown business corridor, and the new housing development meant to address our local housing shortage, Charity Falls is experiencing growing pains. On every corner, strong opinions are being bandied about. City planning meetings often descend into quarrelsome, standing-room-only affairs.

And until certain city officials abandon their attempts to curry favor with both sides of the issues, nothing will be decided.

Sam sneers, but there’s a smile behind his eyes. “Here’s some advice. Tell Hickey to stop being such a mugwump.” He swigs on his coffee. “No, don’t say that. But good luck. That man’s a hard nut to crack.”

I move to leave. Turn back. “I’ll bite. What exactly is a mugwump?”

He arches a single shaggy brow playfully. “A mugwump is someone with hismugon one side of the fence and hiswumpon the other.”

I snicker. “Alrighty then.”

It’s good to see the big kahuna more good-natured. Today I have the express privilege of knowing I’ve contributed to his slightly less curmudgeonly countenance. Because over the weekend, I dashed off an email responding to his job proposition.

A single word.

Yes.

What I said yes to is the chance of a lifetime to commit myself to purposeful work. But it’s also a stretch. This yes promises periods of mediocrity. Challenges that make my pulse race. And a million new ways to fall on my face.

But the truth is, if I were to draw a Venn diagram of things that excite me and things that scare me, this new challenge falls squarely in the overlap. It’s a good yes.

Not an obligatory yes. A pure, liquid-gold yes. No sludge about it.

Besides, I’m beginning to sense that God cares more about who we’re becoming than what we accomplish.

It’s also nice to be viewed as a team player for a change. Well, with the exception of Brad. The conditions of his layoff mean he’ll be working through the rest of the week. Heaven help us.

***

City Manager Matt Hickey sits on the corner of his desk wearing a half smirk, as if he finds me in some way amusing. I don’t appreciate this seating arrangement, which allows him to look down on me.

Also, if this interview gets any drier, I’m gonna have to dig out my Chapstick.

When I ask Hickey where he stands on the new housing development and in which direction he plans to advise the city council after their split vote, I get nothing but circular sentences delivered in a buttered voice.

I need an inroad. A way to get more to the heart of things.

I click my pen twice. “Mayor Lester is quoted as saying you’re more concerned with personal interests than the good of the town.” Everyone knows Hickey’s property abuts the proposed development. “Would you like to respond?”

Where did that come from?

The city manager’s neck reddens. He clenches his jaw. After a pause, he says, “Yes. Yes, Iwouldlike to respond. I’d like to pour her a tall glass ofget over it. And you can print that.”

We will not print that.

“It’s simply false,” he continues. “There is no conflict of interest. I care deeply about this town. We raised our kids here, all the way up through high school. Charity Falls has been good to us. This is a thankless job, Ms. Montgomery. I left the private sector and took this on because I care.”

“Of course,” I say, pausing from my note-taking to smile and make eye contact. “How many kids?”

Hickey’s shoulders relax, I notice. He pauses to take a sip from his bottle of kombucha. “Two. Our oldest graduated in June. We moved Leah into a residence hall at U of O two weeks ago.”

“You must be so proud.”

His eyes smile. “Very.”

“What’s she studying?”