Page 91 of Hottie on Her Shelf
Hallie tried never to make the same mistake twice. That was a perk of lifelong learning. Being slapped in the face with the truth that history would repeat itself unless you actively made the choice to change something.
In this case? That “something” was her stubborn self. And she knew exactly where to go to find assistance. Or rather, to whom. “Randall, you were a champion. Thank you for the rescue. Thanks even more for the pointed but stellar advice. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go execute it.” She handed over the pooch.
“Execute? You can’t joke about things like that, Hallie. Not in today’s political climate.”
“Not assassinate. Sheesh. I’m executing—putting into motion—the plan you just handed me on a silver platter.” Hallie kissed him on the cheek, then darted back into the dispersing crowd. She’d noticed someone earlier out there and was counting on the fact that everyone and their dog would stop to greet Felicia Montgomery and she’d still be here.
Sure enough, she was on the bright turquoise wrought-iron bench where Hallie had spotted her during the event.
“Hi. Hello. Could I take you for coffee?”
Wordlessly, Felicia lifted her cardboard cup. And a single salt-and-pepper eyebrow.
“Oh, right. I might as well be upfront. This isn’t a request for a social chat. I need to ask you for a favor. Coffee, or donuts, or whatever you like is on offer. You could come to the library, not that it’s that comfy. We could go down to the beach—” Hallie broke off, noting two things. First, that Felicia’s mandarin-collar silk dress didn’t look appropriate for beach combing. And secondly, yowza, she was babbling. Rambling. Nervous as all get out.
“Aren’t we friends, my dear?”
Not sucking down margaritas on a Friday night type of friends, but Felicia had helped her secure the librarian position. She’d been her champion. She’d been the first Swan Cove person tobe friendly to Hallie. Her constant pop-ins were full of wry observations, a keen appreciation for books, and sage advice.
“Yes. We’re friends, and I’m grateful for it.”
A sharp elbow banged against Hallie’s. “Then tell me what you want and stop acting as if you’re asking me to give you a piece of my liver. Which, for the record, I’m quite open to. It regenerates, you know. If you’re my blood type, you’re in luck.”
The older woman’s matter-of-fact attitude went a long way to calming the raging case of nerves that had turned Hallie’s stomach inside out and set her tongue to warp speed.
“Actually, I’m O negative, a universal donor. You should be asking me for a hunk of my liver.”
“That’d be more my brother’s speed. Preston doesn’t consider a weekend well lived unless his liver’s curled up in the fetal position, whimpering.”
Evidently, she’d lost all control of the conversation. And thinking about Fitz’s dad would only get her ire up and derail her more. “Regardless, I don’t actually need an organ transplant, but I do appreciate the offer.”
Felicia set her cup on the ground, then folded her hands in the lap of her deep red skirt. “Spit it out, then.”
“Here? Out in the open?” Hallie didn’t even want to think these thoughts in the open, let alone verbalize them. Sharing her, ah, vulnerability should happen in a dark room the size of a closet.
Elbow cradled in her palm and wrist tipped backward, Felicia patted her own cheek. “Now I’m intrigued. What sort of favor can’t be asked on a park bench? Not sexual favors. I’m far too old for you. Do your parents want to explore the idea of a threesome? Are you sussing me out on their behalf?”
Organ transplants and threesomes. What on earth kind of favors did Felicia Montgomery get asked on a daily basis by the residents of Swan Cove? “Um, no. At least, I’m not here as their intermediary. I don’t really have an, um, bead on their thoughts on the subject.”
There she went again, letting the woman lead her astray. That wasn’t the behavior of a mayor-in-the-making. Hallie had to either speak out now, or drop any pretense of having the ability to win this race…let alone run the town after that.
“All right.” Felicia waved off her suggestion in a sing-song tone. “I’ll stick a pin in that. For now.”
Hallie tucked her hands under her thighs to prevent fidgeting. Or worse, overly gesticulating with them. “It pains me to ever ask for help, but—”
A peremptory hand flap cut her off. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why don’t you like to ask for help? There’s no shame in it. You think Armstrong would’ve trod the moon without a full crew helping him get up there? And that string of presidential firsts—Catholic, then Black, then a woman—they didn’t claw their way up to leading the most powerful country in the world as a solo act.”
“No,” Hallie said slowly. She had, quite literally, never looked at it that way before. It…felt almost like cheating. Too easy, too simple, and yet with the same reward in the end. “I suppose not.”
“Do you think it makes you appear weak?”
Yes. Absolutely. Didn’t it?
Stalling, Hallie forced out a dry laugh. “Are you going to charge my insurance a hefty fee for this therapy session?”
