Silas Wiley smiled for the camera. He was feeling quite pleased with himself. He’d lost a little weight recently, and even managed to put off the photo shoot until his diet was showing results. The fact that Ursula, his lovely new secretary, had commented on how good he looked had done wonders for his confidence. The photographer told him to take a break for a few minutes while he changed lenses.

Silas glanced around the chamber. He wanted to replace the shabby chairs and get the place painted. The people of Downsfordvale deserved better than this. He knew he certainly did.

The photographer cleared his throat. ‘Excuse me, Mr Wiley, I’m ready.’

‘Mayor Wiley,’ Silas corrected him tartly.

‘Sorry, Mayor Wiley,’ the man mumbled. He’d already taken about fifty shots but his subject insisted on reviewing each one and hadn’t found any to his liking.

The photographer began snapping away. Silas assumed several poses, some smiling, some serious, but always looking straight down the barrel of the camera.

After another five minutes, the photographer stood up straight. ‘We’re done.’

‘I think I’ll be the judge of that.’ Silas ambled over to assess the pictures.

At the same time, Ursula appeared at the door. A pretty woman in her late thirties, today she wore a striking red dress with matching red heels. Silas wished she wasn’t quite so tall. With the added height of the heels, she made him feel rather like a hobbit.

‘Excuse me, sir, have you finished?’ she asked, smiling.

Silas waved her over. ‘Perhaps. What do you think?’

Ursula scrolled through the photographs before stopping at a shot she thought was particularly flattering. ‘That one.’

‘Do you think so? Doesn’t make me look a bit, mmm . . .’ Silas pulled on his jowls.

‘Oh no, sir, it’s lovely.’ Ursula winked at the photographer, sensing his impatience.

Silas nodded. ‘All right, if you think so. Let’s go with that one.’

The photographer had to stop himself from breathing an audible sigh of relief.

‘How long until we get it up there?’ Silas asked the man, pointing at the gap on the wall above the mayor’s seat. On either side, the former mayors of Downsfordvale smiled out across the chamber.

‘A couple of weeks, Mr – I mean, Mayor Wiley,’ the photographer replied.

‘Oh, you can do better than that, young man,’ Silas said with a grin. ‘Did you mention earlier that you were putting in a planning application for some renovations?’

The photographer gulped. ‘Yes, sir. I’m sure that we can have the portrait back from the framers within the week.’

‘Good man.’ Silas slapped the chap on the back, almost causing him to choke on the caramel he’d been sucking.

Ursula smiled tightly at the photographer. ‘I’m sure he was just kidding,’ she whispered, before following Silas from the room. But Ursula wasn’t sure of that at all. ‘Shall we get you out of that gear before your next meeting?’ she asked Silas. She was amused by her boss’s fondness for wearing the mayoral robes and chain. They were awfully heavy and not especially attractive, but he seemed particularly attached to them. He had even been known to turn up to morning tea fully kitted out.

Silas glanced at his watch. ‘What meeting?’ he barked. ‘It’s already half past five. You know I don’t take late meetings, Ursula. What’s it about – parking on the high street again? Or that silly woman with the garden gnome wittering on about next year’s village show?’

‘No,’ said Ursula carefully. ‘It’s someone by the name of Finley Spencer. I tried to put him off but his secretary said it was urgent. He’ll be here any minute.’

Something about that name rang a bell but Silas couldn’t think why.

‘Well, go and see what you can find out before he arrives,’ Silas grumbled.

‘Yes, of course.’ Ursula turned and tripped down the hallway.

A few minutes later, she appeared at his office door. ‘Finley Spencer is here, sir.’

‘Already?’ Silas grumbled. He was starving. The cream cheese and carrot sandwiches he’d requested for his lunchtime meeting had not satisfied him at all. ‘Could you bring me a cup of tea and a biscuit? Surely Finley Spencer can wait a few minutes.’ Silas paused. He couldn’t think why that name had come to him so easily. Silas hated being thought of as unprofessional – what if this Finley Spencer wasn’t someone he should keep waiting? ‘No, on second thoughts, make a pot and get out the good biscuits. None of those ghastly honey snaps.’ Silas stalked around to the other side of his desk and shuffled some papers.

‘But Mayor Wiley –’ Ursula began.

‘Did you get any details about what he wants?’ Silas flicked through a pile of new development applications.

‘No sir, but –’ Ursula tried again.

‘Don’t just stand there, Urs, go and make the tea. Give me a minute then send him in.’ Silas opened the bottom drawer of his desk and dumped a stack of documents inside.

Ursula turned on her red heels and strode out of the room.

A few minutes later, there was a sharp knock at the door and Ursula entered.

‘Hello, Mayor Wiley, may I introduce . . .?’

Silas stood up and walked to the door, holding out his hand in anticipation.

‘. . . Finley Spencer.’

‘Good Lord,’ Silas’s jaw dropped. ‘But you’re . . .’ He’d been about to say ‘a woman’ when it occurred to him that it might not go down too well. ‘Your hands are so warm and soft,’ Silas said with a sickly smile. He gulped and realised that was probably quite inappropriate too.

‘Good afternoon, Mayor Wiley, it’s lovely to meet you,’ the woman purred. She looked him up and down and smiled to herself, wondering if he wore the mayoral robes all the time or just for meetings.

Silas had never met anyone so beautiful in all his life. Her skin was like cream and her hair, the colour of honey, was swept into an elegant French roll.

Ursula interrupted her boss’s staring. ‘I’ll just bring the tea in, shall I?’

‘Yes, yes, of course.’ Silas waved her away. ‘Please sit down.’ He sighed deeply and directed his visitor towards the low black leather couches.

‘Are you all right, Mayor Wiley?’ asked Finley Spencer. She’d noticed that beads of perspiration had sprung up on the man’s brow.

‘Yes, yes, just need to catch my breath, that’s all.’ He mopped his forehead with a handkerchief.

Finley Spencer wore a striking black-and-white dress, cut just above the knee. Her black heels complemented the outfit perfectly. Silas tried not to admire how splendid she looked but his eyes were drawn to her like a magnet.

Ursula returned to the room, placed the tray down between them and began to pour the tea.

Silas offered the plate of chocolate biscuits to his visitor.

Finley shook her head. ‘No, thank you, Mayor Wiley.’

‘Oh no, me neither.’ Silas’s stomach led out a high-pitched whine.

‘Please don’t let me stop you,’ said Finley. She watched Silas gulp and leave the biscuits on the plate.

There was an awkward silence between them, broken by Silas slurping his tea. ‘How can I be of assistance, Ms Spencer?’ he finally enquired.

‘Well, I have a small business, Mayor Wiley –’ Finley began.

‘Oh, lovely, I do adore a cottage industry. A dress shop, perhaps? No, I see you with one of those day spas,’ Silas prattled.

‘Not quite,’ Finley smiled.

Silas Wiley frowned. ‘You’re a hard woman to work out, Ms Spencer.’

‘Why don’t I just give you this?’ She leaned over the table and handed Silas a small white business card.

He turned it over.

The colour drained from Silas’s face. Now he knew why he’d recalled her name so easily.

‘Is something the matter?’ Finley Spencer was taking great delight in watching him squirm.

‘I feel like a bit of a twit now.’ Silas picked up his teacup and downed the dregs.

‘You weren’t to know,’ Finley smiled.

‘Yes, but of course I did. I’ve heard your name, but I suppose I just thought you were a man.’ Silas laughed nervously. The hole he’d dug was only getting deeper.

‘An easy mistake, Silas,’ she cooed.

‘So, how can I help you, Ms Spencer?’ Silas said again. He was eager to move on.

‘There’s some land we’re interested in and I’m having a hard time contacting the owner. I thought someone of your standing might be able to assist.’ Finley batted her eyelashes as she spoke.

Silas soon forgot his faux pas. ‘Of course, Ms Spencer, I’ll do whatever I can.’

‘And you know, Silas, people are well rewarded in my industry.’ She stood up, her smile plastered in place.

‘Surely you’re not leaving yet?’ said Silas.

‘I’m afraid so. I think I can hear my ride now.’ She began to walk towards the door.

Silas tried to block her path. ‘But you haven’t even told me where this land is. I need some details, Ms Spencer.’

‘It’s all right.’ She reached into her bag and handed him a small envelope. ‘Everything you need to know is in here. I trust that you’re a confidential sort of man.’

Finley Spencer shook Silas’s hand, lingering just a little longer than she really wanted to.

Silas Wiley’s head nodded up and down as if it were on a spring. His legs felt like jelly. He watched her leave and ran to the window, where a giant gold helicopter had just set down on the front lawn. It had already drawn a curious crowd from inside the council chambers as well as some of the local townsfolk.

Silas watched as Finley Spencer strode across the lawn, bending forward as she neared the rotors. A man opened the back door and she disappeared inside. There was a loud whumping sound as the chopper hovered and then disappeared over the top of the building.

Ursula appeared at the door. ‘Can I take the tray?’

‘You didn’t tell me Finley Spencer was a woman,’ Silas snapped as he turned around.

‘That’s what I was trying to say earlier.’ Ursula went to pick up the plate of biscuits.

‘Bring those here,’ Silas ordered.

‘Will Ms Spencer be seeing you again?’ Ursula asked.

Silas’s chest puffed out. ‘Most definitely. She has given me a very important task.’

Ursula bit back a smile. ‘What is it?’

‘Highly confidential,’ Silas replied.

‘I’ll leave you to your work then.’

Ursula stacked the tray with the dirty teacups and exited the room. She wondered how long she’d last working for Silas.

Silas sat at his desk and nibbled at a chocolate biscuit. He took Finley’s card from his jacket pocket and turned it over.

Finley Spencer

Chief Operating Officer

Spencer Industries

‘One of the richest women in the country needs my help,’ Silas said aloud. He’d heard some grim stories about Spencer Industries but clearly they weren’t true. Finley was the most charming and beautiful woman he’d ever met and she was using the proper pathways to undertake her business activities. Silas shovelled another biscuit down and picked up the letter.

‘Now what exactly can I do for you, Ms Spencer?’