Page 100 of Hottie on Her Shelf
“Of course you are. Still, it doesn’t sit right that my life should make a spectacle of yours. Not just as your daughter who loves you, but as a person.”
Pam spread her hands wide, palms up. “It is what it is.”
For crying out loud. That had always been her mom’s reaction to bad news. Not defeatist. Just accepting. It drove Hallie nuts.
“Maybe not. If I drop out of the race, whoever knows about this won’t bother going public with their findings. Your secret will be safe. And six weeks ago, weren’t you the ones trying to convince me to drop out before I got humiliated and lost?”
Gene slapped his hand down on the table. “We can’t let you do that. We can’t let you leave here tonight until you promise to stay in the race.”
“Why?” It made no sense. Why would they fight her on this? And why now, of all times?
Another wordless exchange between her parents. Pam knuckled the wetness from underneath her eyes. “Because we were wrong, sweetheart. As long as youwant to win, and want to try your hardest, then you’ve got to keep going.”
“All we ever wanted was for you to do more, to have more than us.” The beauty of her dad’s oft-repeated simple statement filled her with gratitude.
It was also a karate chop of a truism to her head because it made Hallie realize that nobody had ever said that to Fitz. That he’d never been told his wants were a priority. Nobody had given him that gift of freedom.
It broke her heart all over again.
Her family looked to the outside world like it had so much less than the Montgomerys, but in Hallie’s estimation, the Scotts had so very, very much more.
She’d continue on with her campaign, for the simple reason that she wanted to and still believed that she could do a good job.
It wasn’t all Hallie wanted, though. Now she wanted to figure out a way to heal Fitz’s heart. Whether he won or lost, it seemed clear that he didn’t want to be mayor. Not just to her, either. The people closest to him saw it, too.
She wanted to help him figure out what he did want. Maybe, if she was lucky, that would include her.
Because to hell with the town and his parents. People that would use her parents’ bankruptcy to vote against her weren’t people she respected. Kindness mattered more than legacy or money. Compassion. Caring. That was what being mayor should be about. Not spreading nasty gossip or snickering over misfortunes.
Did she sound naively optimistic? Undoubtedly.
But her parents believed in her, as did her friends. And Fitz. So she’d work to nudge along everyone else by doing her best, which would include being with Fitz again. For real, this time. Hallie still didn’t have a clue how they’d get there.
Aiming at a goal with all her heart, though…she was great at that.
…
Fitz glowered at the back—and the enormous cow-print backpack—of the retreating freshman. “Why do kids keep barging in here and interrupting us?”
Everett sighed as he shut the door. “There’s a sign above the lintel. Says Open Door Policy. You’ve walked by it a hundred times. My job is to be available to the students at all times.”
“Your job is to discipline the students. Isn’t that the main skill set of an assistant principal?”
“Meh.” Everett loosened his tie printed with baby Yodas. “You take the good with the bad. Nothing in my job description, however, stipulates being available to the mayor at all times.”
Didn’t that get encompassed by the description of best friend?
And it wasn’t like he dropped by on a daily basis to hang out. Today’s visit was an emergency. A necessity. Otherwise, Fitz would’ve embarrassed himself by…standing at the swan pond screaming at the sky and shaking his fists? Heading into the bar and ordering six shots of Jager at once?
Or, the worst case scenario, going to the library with a guitar and serenading Hallie to beg her to give him another chance.
Fitz couldn’t sing. Couldn’t play guitar, either. So dropping in on Everett at the high school was the only option that didn’t get him ridiculed and worse, pitied, two things that pretty much guaranteed he wouldn’t win the election.
Fitz looked at the poster of a line of penguins walking, with the last little guy coasting on his belly. It read Mediocrity: just because we accept you as you are doesn’t mean we’ve abandoned hope you’ll improve.
“Okay. You got me. I pulled rank and used my title so your guard dog of a secretary would let me in without an appointment.”
A sharp laugh barked out. “No reason to bother next time. Susan thinks you’re a hottie. She’d escort you straight over a bleeding, crying student if it got her a date with you.”
