CHAPTER TWELVE

The first of November festival started how most small-town festivals do, as a way to drive customers to downtown businesses. In 1975, downtown businesses decided the answer to a new, unknown monstrosity of a store called Walmart that had opened in Yourkeville was to have a sidewalk sale in the square on the first weekend in November. Not only would it remind the residents of the quality, local downtown shops that had everything you could possibly need without driving the ten miles to Yourkeville, but the sale would also give the residents a chance to get a jump on their holiday shopping. After a few successful years, sales flattened, and someone had the idea of turning the weekend into a festival to bring in tourists from as far away as Dallas. It wasn’t easy to find a unique autumn festival honoree when you lived in a state as large as Texas whose towns had been celebrating pecans, peaches, watermelons, rattlesnakes, ice creams, trees, cotton, corn, bluebonnets, and anything else you could eat, stare at, pet, or harvest for the previous 150 years.

About this same time, Stillwater suffered its worst defeat in football at the hands of its main rival, the Yourkeville Lumberjacks, and had had just about enough of the unimaginative jokes about the Snipes disappearing after the opening kickoff. To boost the spirits of the dejected team, which would go on to have the worst record in Stillwater Snipes history, the town decided to honor the lowly, misunderstood snipe, and the Stillwater Snipe Festival was born.

The festival decided the best way to head off being the butt of a joke was to be in on the joke, so the festival embraced the ambiguity and celebrated the mythical snipe as an amorphous animal instead of the very real snipe, a shy wetland bird expert at camouflage. Things went on happily for a few years, until Stillwaterites couldn’t resist the draw of low prices at the store formerly known as a monstrosity that had become a weekend destination. Downtown Stillwater businesses started shuttering, or were lured by lower rents in Joe Doyle’s new development on the west side of town. It looked as if the Snipe Festival was going to be a shooting star—rare, bright, and short-lived.

Then, the birders showed up to save the day.

As it turned out, the Stillwaterites had inadvertently stumbled on the most unique festival honoree in the country, most likely since no one believed snipes existed. But birders knew and, with only a one-line mention in the back of a September 1987 issue of Texas Monthly to go on, a small group made the trip to Stillwater to hunt snipe. There was a good deal of suspicion and skepticism when the birders arrived in their khaki vests, cargo pants, and Tilley’s field hats with binoculars and cameras draped around their necks. And for the birders, there was a good deal of disappointment to find not a birding festival but a sad little sidewalk sale with an indeterminate animal mascot walking around an almost-deserted square trying to entice people to take photos with him. But birders by nature are an unflappable, patient lot so they dispersed throughout the area to look for birds and were pleasantly surprised to find enough variety to make up for the fact that not one snipe was spotted. Stillwaterites were so thrilled with the influx of strangers—and their money—that they showered them with Southern hospitality and made the birders feel so at home, they would have returned the next year even if they weren’t driven by the innate competitive urge in birders to be the first to spot the shy snipe.

Stillwater adjusted its festival to cater to the birders while still retaining the good-natured joke of the mythical snipe for the kids. Slowly the festival grew, and though the square continued to bleed downtown businesses through the nineties, Texas artists arrived at the festival to sell their bird-centric arts and crafts.

And, though she didn’t know it at the time, the seed idea for Ellie’s cause to save downtown Stillwater in thirty years was born. It would take outsiders—new blood, innovators—to save her town from a slow death. Unfortunately, change as a political slogan, or even a byproduct of her plan, was toxic in Stillwater’s neck of the woods. But Ellie was unflappable, patient, and determined—like the birders.

Ellie stood outside the Book Bank, glad-handing and greeting every person who passed even if they wore a VOTE FOR JOE pin—and an alarming number of people did. It was exhausting, but a necessary part of running for office. Though she had taken the challenge as a way to get her mind off her personal problems, as she talked about her vision of Stillwater, Ellie became more and more confident she was the right choice. Slowly but surely, her message of downtown revitalization was getting through to the town. But Ellie’s message resonated mostly with the younger residents, and that was the demographic Stillwater had been bleeding for twenty years. If the fact that demographics weren’t on her side didn’t deter her enthusiasm, the number of questions about her lake house meth lab outnumbering the questions on her platform five to one did.

She peeked her head in the store. Kelly stood at the coffee bar talking to Paige. “Kelly!” She motioned for her to come over.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Go upstairs and get me some different shoes. These are killing me.”

“They sure look cute.”

“I’m looming over men whose votes I need to win.”

“Fine, fine. Trust my judgement?”

“It’s not like there’re a lot of choices.”

“Good point,” Kelly said. She disappeared behind the door to the side of the store front that led upstairs to Ellie’s flat.

“Ellie.”

Stillwater Mayor Jane Maxwell appeared as if from nowhere, surprising Ellie not only because of the stealth of the nonagenarian but also because she seemed smaller than the last time Ellie met with her, as if she would fade into nothingness before succumbing to death. If anyone could beat death, Ellie believed Jane Maxwell was the woman to do it.

“What’s this about a meth lab in your lake house?”

Ellie smiled. Jane Maxwell had also mastered the art of straight talk. Ellie bet she’d never been good at small talk at parties. She would have been more likely to get on a soapbox and dress down the rest of the partygoers for having too much fun.

“They think meth cookers are setting up labs in abandoned homes, using them, and leaving before the owners find out.”

“Hrmph.”

“It’s kinda brilliant when you think about it.”

“Does Jack think they intended to use it?”

“What do you mean?”

Jane sighed and shook her head. “You’re trusting nature is going to get you in trouble one day. A perfect way to discredit you before the election.” Jane looked across the street. Joe shook hands with citizens while Mary Doyle handed out VOTE FOR JOE buttons to everyone who passed.

“Wh—” Ellie stopped as the idea took hold. Would someone have done that? But how could they have been sure she would go out to the house and find it? She never went out there. Then she remembered the anonymous tip the sheriff’s department received about the meth lab in her house. Was it all a setup by someone who knew how ruthless the Stillwater rumor mill could be, and how effective it was for destroying your enemies? Did Joe Doyle want to win so bad he would stoop to ruining her reputation?

“Yes,” Jane said, reading Ellie’s mind. “The good news is he’s underestimating my power over the city council. Jack doesn’t need to worry about his job yet.”

Kelly returned, holding a pair of loafers Ellie’d owned for fifteen years. “I can’t believe I’m giving you these. We have got to go shoe shopping.”

Ellie heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“I don’t know what you’re thanking me for. These are hideous. Hi, Jane.”

“They’re classic.” Ellie took the loafers and kicked the wedges off, losing four inches. She held onto Kelly’s shoulder to steady herself while she put the loafers on.

“Kelly,” Jane said. “Thank you for being such a good friend to Ellie during the election. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to help like I wanted.”

Kelly waved the compliment away. “Of course. Where’s Marta?”

“I left her at the fabric shop. I don’t know why she buys fabric. She hasn’t been able to sew for ten years. I better go get her before she wastes too much of my money.” Jane looked up at Ellie. “I will see you at the polls.”

“Okay.”

When Jane was out of earshot, Ellie and Kelly giggled and rolled their eyes. “Is she shrinking? I think she’s shrinking,” Kelly said.

“Me, too.”

“She’s still a dragon, isn’t she?” Kelly said.

“You have no idea. Will you take these back upstairs?” Ellie held out the wedges to her friend.

Kelly took the shoes and said, “You’re a born politician, getting others to do you dirty work while you smile at the camera.” Kelly’s eyes shifted to something behind Ellie and her expression turned thunderous. She turned and saw Jack just before he spoke.

“Hello.”

Ellie’s knees liquefied at the sound of Jack’s voice.

“Well, well. Look who’s here,” Kelly said, crossing her arms, Ellie’s shoes dangling from her fingers by the ankle straps.

“Hello, Kelly,” Jack said.

“Chief McBride.” She stood between Jack and Ellie, inching closer to Ellie and, as a result, pushing her friend away from Jack. “Are you on duty? It’s so hard to tell since you don’t wear a uniform.”

Jack’s smile was thin. “As chief, I’m always on duty. But, today, I’m officially off. Unless something major comes up.”

“Something major always does seem to come up on your watch, doesn’t it?”

Kelly glared at Jack. Ellie knew her friend’s initial good impression of Jack had been irreparably damaged when Mike Freeman killed himself. And, even though Ellie had never confirmed she had a relationship with Jack, Kelly had obviously read his interest easy enough and resented Jack toying with Ellie while he was married.

“How’s the fire investigation going? Two more bodies on your watch. Brings the number to five, I believe,” Kelly said.

“We’re waiting on the bodies to be ID’d,” Jack said. “Thanks for asking.”

“Kelly, the shoes, please,” Ellie said.

With a final glare at Jack, Kelly jerked open the door to Ellie’s flat and stomped up the stairs.

“Sorry.” A beat of awkward silence followed, which Ellie filled with more awkwardness. Her anger at Jack had dissipated in the night and she had woken up mortified at her behavior. “I’m sorry for yesterday.”

“For what? Telling me you don’t miss me or that my wife slept with my brother?”

Ellie crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m trying to take the high road here, but don’t forget you all but said you didn’t trust me to not sleep with your brother.”

Jack clenched his jaw. “You’re right. I apologize.” He ground the words out, and Ellie realized with disappointment that the more she got to know Jack, the more she recognized how typically male he was.

“Is everything else okay?” Jack said.

Ellie cringed. From almost their first interaction, Jack had had an uncanny ability to read Ellie’s thoughts. Surely he hadn’t perceived the small death of her dream of him as an ideal man?

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Well, I—” He cleared his throat. “I saw you talking to Jane from across the street. You looked upset about something. And now, you have this little,” he pointed to the place where her nose met her forehead, then to the same spot on his head, “crease right there. That’s your tell.”

She smiled in relief. “Oh, is it?”

“Yeah.”

“Here I thought I had a good poker face.”

“Maybe to everyone else. What is it? What’s wrong?”

He lightly touched her elbow and the thrill of connection she always felt with Jack pushed her disappointment out of her mind, to be revived one day in the future during a volatile argument, of which Ellie thought they’d have many. He had a temper, and she wasn’t a pushover. It would either be a disastrous combination or a passionate one. Strangely, she looked forward to the discovery.

“Jane suggested the meth lab might have been planted in my lake house to discredit me. Before the election. What do you think?”

Jack tried to push his hands deep into his pockets but only made it halfway. Unlike most days, he had worn jeans. Ellie pressed her lips together to suppress a smile. He didn’t even realize his habit of jingling his keys in his suit pants pocket when he thought.

“It’s possible.”

“I can’t believe Doyle would stoop that low. And why? Even I know he’s going to win,” Ellie said.

“Let’s hope not. He’s determined to fire me if he wins.”

“Oh, Jane won’t let that happen,” Ellie said.

“As city councilwoman would you vote for or against me? Think carefully. Your response will determine how I vote.”

“You haven’t lived here long enough to vote,” Ellie said.

“Avoiding the question. You’re a natural born politician.”

Ellie laughed. “What an insult. Don’t worry, your job is safe with me.”

He grinned and, before she could steel herself against it, her melting heart trickled down to her abdomen and hit her with a jolt of desire so strong she clutched her stomach to contain it.

“You okay?”

“Fine. Cramps.”

Jack grimaced and glanced away. Ellie resisted laughing. Chalk another one up for Jack being a typical man.

Jack stared at Doyle across the street and stepped forward slightly. “What would you say if I told you I suspected Doyle was involved in illegal activities? Like drugs?”

Ellie pursed her lips. “Should we be talking about this?”

“No.” His eyes slid from her eyes to her lips and back. “Under other circumstances, I would be talking to you about this every night.”

She swallowed and hoped her face didn’t look as red as it felt. “Well, it wouldn’t surprise me a bit. Doyle’s a crook, no doubt.”

“How do you know?”

“Everyone knows. We just look the other way because it doesn’t affect us and he’s a philanthropist. And he employs dozens of people. And he’s one of us. But how do I know specifically? He was like this with my father.” She crossed her fingers. “JD—that’s what my father called Doyle, good ole JD—he probably kept my father from being destitute in the last years of his life. I tried to help, but he wouldn’t take anything from me. Ironic, considering he spent my entire life trying to take everything from me.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said.

“We all have our sob stories. I just have a larger share than most.” She shrugged one shoulder. “My dad alluded to Doyle’s activities but never specifics. I think he ran numbers for Doyle.”

“And Michelle?”

Kelly returned, squeezed between Ellie and Jack, crossed her arms, and said, “Where’s your wife?”

Ellie could tell Jack was making an effort to keep his composure. “She’s around here somewhere.”

Kelly’s eyes narrowed and never left Jack. “Ellie, you should probably walk around the square, mingle, instead of standing here like a bump on a log.”

“I will in a minute. We’re talking about Crime Stoppers. Grab a coffee for me, will you? Might as well get some Book Bank pub while we’re glad-handing.”

Arms crossed and a scowl on her face, Kelly went into the store.

“Christ. She holds a grudge,” Jack said.

“I think it’s more about what Freeman’s death did to her son than Freeman dying. Kelly will come around.”

“So, about Michelle.”

Ellie followed Jack’s gaze across the street where Michelle talked and laughed to a group of people, her VOTE FOR JOE pin flashing in the sunlight. Michelle caught them staring and, with a mocking smile, waved like a politician and gave them a thumbs up. Ellie turned away.

“She’s devious, manipulative, cunning, and charismatic. She was born to be a drug lord.”

“Tell me what you really think.”

“I can’t stand her and the feeling is mutual. Honestly? You’d have an easier time catching Joe than Michelle.”

“Do I detect a hint of admiration?”

“I guess the way you admire a tiger, from afar.” She cleared her throat. She was done talking about Michelle Ryan. “Jack, about yesterday. I lied.”

At that moment, Julie came up and put her arms around Jack. “Oh my God, alert the press. A politician lied.” Julie squeezed Jack’s waist with her pencil-thin arms. Her head barely came up to his armpit. Jack looked pained, but quickly changed his expression to a smile when Julie beamed up at him. Ellie suspected Julie’s teeth would glow under a black light.

“Kelly tells me you’re a runner,” Julie said.

“I am.”

“We should go running together.”

It took all of Ellie’s strength to say, as genuinely as possible, “Sure.”

“Awesome!” Though her eyes never left Ellie’s, Ellie sensed Julie sizing her up and finding her wanting.

Ellie stood to her full height. “I run between a seven- and eight-minute mile most days. Can you keep up?”

Julie’s eyes narrowed, but her smile remained.

Oh, yeah, bitch. It’s on.

Julie looked pointedly at Ellie’s legs. “Well, with legs that long, you’d have to, wouldn’t you?”

These legs have also been wrapped around your husband, you manipulative little bitch.

“Long legs do have their benefits.”

Julie laughed. “I’m sure I can keep up.”

“I look forward to it.”

Jack was silent, his face a mixture of horror and fascination.

“Don’t you want to know what I lied about?”

Jack’s eyes widened, and he shook his head conspicuously in warning.

“I do,” Julie said.

Ellie looked down on Julie with a mischievous grin. “Oh, it was white lie. I told the other police chiefs that I agree with them about Jack wearing a uniform.”

“Oh my God, you didn’t.”

“I did. I did it to see Jack squirm.” Ellie turned to Jack. Poor thing, he was completely lost. He either didn’t know the subtext running through this conversation or was too horrified by it to do more than gape at the two women in his life.

“You better not ever wear one of those hideous uniforms,” Julie said.

Come on, Jack. I’ve given you a hanging curveball. Please don’t be too stupid to hit it out of the park.

“I might have to. To keep the peace.”

Ellie did an internal fist pump. That’s my boy.

Ellie was past her limit on time with Julie McBride. She was relieved when Kelly returned with her latte and they went off down the street to shake hands and kiss babies for a campaign doomed to fail.