CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Two hours later, we found Lila backstage at the grandstand, where an enormous crowd had gathered. Lila saw us and came hurrying over. “Athena, he resigned! Charles has resigned as mayor! His secretary called a few minutes ago. What am I going to tell the crowd now?”
“Just read your speech. Or speak from the heart. You can do this, Lila.”
She grabbed a set of notecards from her purse and flipped through them, barely reading a word on them. “I can’t do it, Athena. I can’t go out there. I’m a nervous wreck.”
“Lila,” I asked, “what’s wrong?”
The crowd began to chant, “Mayor Sloan! Mayor Sloan!”
Lila looked around in terror. Her hands shook as she held the notecards. “I can’t do it. I can’t go out there.”
“Someone has to tell them the mayor isn’t here,” Case said. “We can’t just leave them hanging.”
Lila steadied herself on Case’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I just can’t do it.”
I listened to the crowd chanting and closed my eyes. I thought of myself frozen on the stage earlier and clenched my fists. I remembered Charles Sloan’s chiding smile as he forced me up on that stage, and I inhaled deeply.
“Mayor Sloan, Mayor Sloan,” the crowd chanted, louder now, clapping along.
I opened my eyes, held out my hand, and let my breath out. “Give me the cards,” I said firmly. “I’ll do it.”
Case and Lila stared at me, and I felt an icy shiver sprint up my spine. I took the notecards from Lila and turned to face the stage. “Someone has to tell them who the mayor really is.”
“Hold on just a minute,” Case said. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
As I listened to the crowd chant, my nerves pulsed. “I have to do this.”
The band started their triumphant entrance march, and the lights on stage lit up in vibrant red, white, and blue lights.
My stomach was queasy at the thought of facing all those people, but one look at Lila’s hopeful face, her hands in prayer form, one glance into Case’s encouraging eyes, one vision of my son’s proud face, and I knew the time had come to conquer my fear.
I took a few deep breaths and tried to still my racing heart, then I walked onstage with legs shaking so hard I thought they would buckle, with palms so damp I feared the ink on the notecards would smear. It seemed to take forever to walk over to where a microphone waited on its stand. As I approached it, the band finished their introduction, and the crowd quieted.
I wet my lips. I cleared my throat. And with trembling hands, I lowered the microphone stand to my level. Then I began to speak.
“Hello—” “I cleared my raspy throat and started again. “Hello, everyone. My name is Athena Spencer—”
“The Goddess of Greene Street,” a man called loudly, which started everyone clapping.
I looked at the notecards in my hand, at the speech Lila had so carefully crafted, took a deep breath, and started to speak. “I know you were all expecting to hear from Charles Sloan tonight—”
At the mention of his name, the crowd clapped even louder.
“—but I’m sorry to inform you that he has resigned from his position as mayor.”
There was a loud gasp from the audience. The cheers and clapping quieted immediately, leaving me alone onstage in front of a stunned crowd. All eyes were on me.
You can do this, Athena.
“I know this comes as a shock to you,” I began, “and I’m sorry to be the one to tell you that your mayor is—”
The words liar and cheater formed on my lips. “Mayor Charles Sloan is not the man . . .”
I paused and looked out at all the disappointed faces. I looked over at Lila, who stood at the edge of the stage with her hands clasped together expectantly. I looked at Case, who held a look of reservation. Then I thought back to the inspiring speech I’d heard Charles Sloan give on this very stage, and I had a sudden rush of inspiration. A sense of calm washed over me.
“Over the next few days,” I began, hearing my voice boom and echo throughout the crowd, “you will learn why Mayor Sloan has resigned from his position. Some of you will be shocked or saddened, and some might be angry, but I can assure you that no matter what happens, Sequoia will persevere. Charles Sloan may be gone, but his message of community and prosperity remains.
“Mayor Sloan worked very hard for this town,” I continued, “but he wasn’t the only one. There is a whole team of talented people behind the scenes who helped Charles Sloan craft his policies.”
I waited to hear a response but received nothing more than a few awkward claps.
“For example,” I continued, “‘Keep Sequoia Small’ was an idea thought up by Rosemary Dalsaurus, a very smart and very brave woman who worked for his campaign. She came up with the slogan. And what a slogan it is.”
I repeated the slogan and then asked the crowd to repeat it with me. “Keep. Sequoia. Small!” To my surprise, the crowd continued the chant, growing louder with each refrain.
“And do you remember the speech you heard last week? That was written by his campaign manager, Lila Talbot. Lila, will you come out here, please?”
I looked out but couldn’t see her. I could only hope she was willing to join me.
“Lila wrote the incredible speech you heard last week. She also wrote the speech Charles was supposed to give tonight. I think we should hear it. What do you say?”
With that I heard the smattering of applause grow louder. Lila walked out from the shadows, and upon seeing her, the applause grew and grew until she was standing next to me, waving at the cheering crowd. She leaned in so I could hear her and said, “Thank you, Athena.”
She stood at the podium and thanked the crowd, and suddenly my job was done. Lila had the stage presence of a professional, and she took the limelight with incredible grace, her voice smooth and silky over the loudspeakers.
“We will do everything we can to keep Sequoia small,” Lila began. “We, the citizens of Sequoia, will do everything in our power to keep our wonderful town thriving. And whomever we elect to take Mayor Sloan’s place will share our vision.”
I walked offstage with legs that were still shaking, a throat that was still dry, and a heart still running a race in my chest. But I had conquered my fear, and for that I was proud.
Once I was offstage, Case hugged me. “You did it,” he said with a wide smile. “How does it feel?”
“Like I need a big glass of wine,” I told him.
“I can make that happen.” Case put his arm around my shoulders. “What do you say we go share your success with your family?”
I glanced at my watch and gasped. “Case, we’re missing the dance contest!”
As Lila continued her rousing speech, Case and I hustled down the pathway, out of the fenced arena, and down to the big brick building at the end of the fairway. We entered in time to see ten couples standing at the front of the dance floor, while an emcee stood at a microphone, and three judges sat at a long table behind him. Spectators sat at round tables that circled the wide dance floor, and a trio of musicians sat off to one side.
As Case and I made our way around the tables, I caught sight of Niko waving at me from the other side, seated with my yiayiá and pappoús. The entire Karras clan sat at nearby tables.
“And last but not least,” the emcee announced, “our first-place prize goes to Sarah and Mike Gillen!”
As the happy couple strode forward to accept their gilded trophy amid a round of applause, I saw Delphi and Bob clapping, looking surprisingly pleased. Case and I took our seats next to Niko and my grandparents. My mom and dad were seated across from us, my mother checking her watch and shaking her head at me.
As soon as the presentation was over, Delphi came running over to us, with Bob right behind. “We took third place!” Delphi announced triumphantly.
“Congratulations, you two,” Case said and shook Bob’s hand.
I gave Delphi a hug. “You did good, sis.”
Delphi was animated. “I know third place isn’t great, but here’s the cool part. Remember when I did the coffee grounds reading for myself?”
“Um, no,” I replied.
“Sure you do. I saw the number three. As in third place? See, O ye of little faith? I got it right!”
And then I did remember her vision. She had not only predicted that the number three would come into play, but she had also seen water and danger and the letters BL—the water leak, the muddy footprints, and Ben Logan. I wrapped her in a big hug. “You were right, Delph. I should’ve trusted your vision.”
She pushed me back, holding me at arm’s length. “What do you mean?”
“You didn’t fix the water leak,” I explained. “You saved me.”
She let go and smacked her forehead. “The water leak! I completely forgot.”
I gave her a long look. “Are you kidding?”
“About what?”
Delphi saw me roll my eyes and shake my head. “About what?” she asked again.
“Never mind, Delph. Congrats on third place.”
“Okay, everyone,” the emcee announced, “the dance floor is open, and our trio has some great music for you. Come up and dance the night away!”
Nicholas jumped up to greet me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “You missed it, Mom. Thea Delphi did so good!” He took my hand and led me away from our table. “Can we go dance now?”
“In a bit,” I told him. “I want to say hi to the rest of the family.”
“Come on, Niko,” my sister Maia called. She stood up and held out her hand. “Dance with me.”
“Will you make sure she comes, Case?” Nicholas asked.
Case laughed and ruffled Nicholas’s hair. “I’ll do my best to get your mom onto the dance floor.”
Nicholas took my sister’s hand and disappeared onto the crowded floor.
My mom stood up for a hug. “I’m glad you made it, Athena. You, too, Case.” She pointed toward the dancing couples, where I could see Delphi and Bob arm in arm, laughing and enjoying themselves. “Look at Delphi out there,” Mama said. “She didn’t win the contest, but you’d never know it by looking at her.”
To my surprise, I also saw my sister Selene on the dance floor, smiling and twirling with her date, Thomas Pappas. “Selene seems to be happy,” I told her.
“Because she took my advice,” Mama said. She shrugged indifferently. “If only all my daughters did the same.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
“You promised that once this case was over, you would have some fun.”
“And I will.”
“Now is a good time to start.”
“Oh, yeah?” I teased. “I’ll dance when you do.”
Mama huffed, but then she turned toward my dad and held out her arm. My dad stood and took my mom’s hand, then leaned close to say quietly to me, “Checkmate.”
I laughed as he and my mom slipped in among the dancing couples.
“Well,” Case said to me, “shall we join Niko?”
“I don’t want to leave my grandparents alone,” I told him.
Hearing that, my yiayiá rose, grabbed my pappoús, and motioned for us to join them. My aunts and uncles were on the floor dancing, too. Which left Case and me, all by ourselves.
Case offered his hand. “Let’s go have some fun, Athena. You’ve earned it.”
So I danced with Case. I danced with my son. I danced with my sisters. I danced with my grandparents and my mom and my dad.
And I had fun.