Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 50527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 202(@250wpm)___ 168(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 202(@250wpm)___ 168(@300wpm)
"If you want to throw a party, you're more than welcome to." I’m sure the townspeople would actually really enjoy it. As mayor, sometimes I have to put the greater good above what I want personally. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.
I'll consider this gesture my mom’s Christmas present. The woman is hard to buy for. Dad left her a lot of money, and she wants for nothing—nothing tangible, at least.
"Really?" There is no missing the excitement in her voice.
"Yes, Mom. If you want to throw a party, have at it. Let me know the date and time so I can add it to my calendar."
"This is perfect! Just perfect."
"Is there anything else?"
“Yes. I’m not going to be able to get there as quickly as will be needed to start prepping, so I’m going to send my party planner out ahead of me. You have room in that big house to put her up. Don’t scare her away. She’s the best in the business.”
There it is. The real reason she wants to throw a party. My instincts never fail me when it comes to my mother’s intentions. She really rushed through saying all that, wanting to get it all out before I could shoot any of it down or some of it got lost in the mix. I don’t miss much.
“Mom, tell me this isn’t a girl you’re trying to get me to date.” I run my hands down my face. My fingers linger on my scar. This is a sure way to give me a headache, and it’s too early in the day for that bullshit.
"She's a sweet girl." Her saying that lets me know everything I need to. This is a thousand percent another attempt at a dating setup.
"No," I tell her.
"Fine, but she still needs to come and help me with this party." She isn't going to let this go, so I tell a little white lie to buy myself some time and to hopefully shut down this woman before she even arrives in New Hope.
"I'm seeing someone." It's not really a lie. I see people around all the time. Kindred is always coming in and out of my office.
"Who?"
"It's too early for me to give details. It's new."
"Who?" Mom keeps pushing, and I know she's not going to let it go. Just then, Kindred comes walking into my office.
"Kindred," I say.
The line goes quiet, and Kindred mouths to me, What is going on?
I hold up my finger. My mom is still quiet. Is she about to call me on my bluff? I should back out. It's insane for anyone to think Kindred and I would be together. I’d like to think If I were into a woman, it wouldn't take years for me to pull that trigger, and Kindred and I have been working together for a couple of years at this point. We are purely platonic.
“Kindred?” When she finally responds, Kindred’s name comes out sounding like a question. As though she has no idea who Kindred is, when they, in fact, talk more than a few times a week, "Okay, then." There is a smugness in her tone that has my hackles rising.
"I'm glad we got that cleared up."
"Right," my mom laughs. "I still need to send the party planner there. This will make things easier for everyone. I'm sure Kindred would also enjoy the help."
That is a good point. I will be needing help from her to get this all pulled together. Mom might be coming to town, and this is really her party and not mine, but I know tasks will get handed off to me. Ones that I don’t want. I might want to keep busy but not planning a Christmas party and decorating for it. That sounds miserable.
I agree with my mom before she says she’ll be in touch with more details soon, ending the call.
“I can tell from your expression that the conversation didn’t go well. It’s not a big deal to let her throw a party,” Kindred says. I bark a laugh. If only it were only the party that I had to worry about.
"Oh, I agreed, and she's sending a party planner to help."
"Oh noes, like the kind of party planner that could end up being your wife?" Kindred knows my mother well.
"Yes, but I told her I was seeing someone to try and shut it down." I’m debating whether I should spring it on Kindred that she’s the someone or wait for a little while.
"I don't blame you. That last girl…" Kindred trails off.
How could I forget the tall blonde whose voice was equivalent to nails on a chalkboard? Between that and her overpowering perfume, she’d given me a headache anytime she was around, and she made it a habit to be just that. I swear it seemed as though she was my damn shadow when I was in town.