A Bachelor, A Boss And A Baby

The one that most caught her attention was a plan to widen one of the roads up into the mountains to turn it into a scenic drive that would end at an historic mining town that, of course, needed work to make it safe. But that was the kind of thing she loved—preserving historical sites, making them into attractions that would ensure their longevity.

Some of these projects would likely have to be handled by bond issues, but some could well qualify for grants from various sources. And that would be her job. That and updating the comprehensive plan to comply with new regulations.

Leaning back in her chair, listening to the quiet sounds of the rattle, which would probably elicit tears by falling on the floor soon, and listening to the baby noises Daphne was making, she closed her eyes and remembered why she had taken this job in the first place.

Conard County wasn’t all built up like the other places she’d worked, most recently Des Moines. When she’d come out for the interview and looked around the area, all she could see was possibility. Of course, she couldn’t make it all happen, and she wasn’t sure it would be good for the community if she did, but some of it could be brought to life here. The potential, the virtually clean slate...yeah, a lot could be done here, and with those mountains so nearby, that merely expanded the things they could accomplish.

The scenic road was one great idea. She’d also read how repeated attempts to build a ski resort had fallen through, the last time because of some serious landslides.

She didn’t understand why it couldn’t be done. Those mountains weren’t going anywhere, but they needed funding for an independent geological survey. That last failure had occurred because of record-breaking rain. Surely that could be planned around. Earthquake activity seemed to be minor. She’d suggest the survey as one of her projects.

Oh, she’d been bubbling with ideas since her interview, but she had to be careful to avoid the “new broom” effect. There was bound to be resistance to any change around here, so she’d better find her way among the people who’d be affected. Maybe a town hall or charette, a survey of what folks besides the commissioners wanted around here. Community input was essential.

She glanced over and saw that Daphne had fallen asleep, the rattle still clutched in tiny hands. Toys suitable for an infant, she thought, adding that to her growing mental list. She wondered what other unthought-of things lay around the corner.

She returned to the files, trying to organize them in a useful way for the work ahead of her. Sources for grants would be her first move, and for that she needed projects that might garner private funding. Turning to the computer on her desk, she opened a new digital file and began to transfer information. Why in the world were these files still paper, anyway? Had they been around that long?

Much as she didn’t feel like working, she actually made some headway in her organization and was starting to feel fairly good about her morning when the door opened.

Looking up, she saw Blaine poking his head through a five-inch opening. “We’re up. The mayor, the council chairman and the chief commissioner have decided they want to meet with you now.”

Diane’s stomach turned over, then became queasy. Anxiety because it was barely noon and the public meeting was supposed to be at six. “Now?” she said pointlessly.

“Well, I got you ten minutes. Better make sure the tot is comfy and you have a bottle. Don’t panic, it’s not the lion’s den and I’ll be there.”

“I’m not panicking,” she lied bravely. “What happened?”

“People talk. And some other people want to get the jump on their, um, colleagues. In short, they want the first whack and want information before the others get it.”

She understood that all too well. When it came to personal power, adults could act like toddlers. “This isn’t a good start,” she remarked.

“Is any? I’ll be back for you and Daphne in ten. Or would you rather I ask someone to watch her just for now?”

“Thanks, but I might as well put all the cards on the table right now.” If it was to be a fight, she was ready for it, she believed. Planners like her weren’t a dime a dozen.

* * *

Blaine walked down the hall, his thumbs hooked on his jeans pockets. This was indeed not a good start. The eejits had hired this woman while he was away and could offer no input, and now they were going to have a turf war over her?

He had to give her marks for taking the tot right into it with her. Apparently, Diane Finch like to have the air as clear as possible. Well, so did he.

But not the damn fools they were about to meet. Oh, no. The muddier the better for them.

Then he brushed aside the thoughts as unproductive. He’d managed to work with these people for over five years now, and going all crackers on them in defense of Diane wasn’t going to help anyone. He still had a culvert to take care of, and he and the roads department would be getting the blame if the commissioners stalled it.

As for Diane, she probably wanted to keep this job for a while. To withstand the inevitable storms that were coming, she needed to be firm and able to stand for herself. The politicians weren’t all bad, after all. But they all had their moments.

Like any other human, he decided humorously. Show him a perfect person and he’d be sure he was looking at the Blessed Mother herself. Anyway, if it became necessary, he knew a few ways to step in to make them back off her.

Inside the chamber on the second floor of the courthouse, just beneath the courtrooms and judges’ chambers on the third floor, only one commissioner had arrived. Madge Corker, a graying woman of near sixty, sat in her usual chair and eyed him with a smile.

“So we have a baby with us now, Blaine?”

“If ya won’t mind, I’ll be letting the planner explain it herself.”

“Don’t go Irish on me,” she said lightly. “Usually I like to listen to that accent, but when you carry it too far, I have trouble understanding. I think we need to understand today.”

“No doubt,” he answered, plopping himself in a seat in the front row. “I’ve a culvert I need to talk about. I was planning that for tonight.”

A sound of amusement escaped Madge. “You were always good at diversion.”

“No diversion except around that culvert. Detours.”

Another sound of amusement escaped her, then two men entered, wearing pressed Western shirts and jeans. The local dress-up. If you took an iron to it, you didn’t need the three-piece and tie.

Neither of them looked remotely amused. Of course not. Men had a thing about babies at work. Women in the clerk’s office were still trying to get a private closet for nursing.

Jeff Holdrum, the first to enter, was a portly man, just portly enough to look well-to-do and to sport a small spot of egg yolk on the front of his shirt. Minor Allcoke was a weedy man who looked as if he’d been starving all his life. Except Blaine had more than once watched him eat as if he were a three-hundred-pound rugby player.

As the two new arrivals took their place at the council table on its dais, Blaine felt some apprehension.

“This is all looking rather official,” he said. “Where are the others?”

“That’s tonight. Where’s Ms. Finch? She’s supposed to be here.”

“I gave her ten minutes.” He glanced at his watch. Then, just to annoy them, he switched to an upper-crust British accent, which he seldom used. “Only seven have passed. To avoid being rude, you understand.”

For a second, he enjoyed watching them look a bit embarrassed. What was it about speaking the queen’s English in the queen’s accent that seemed to make Americans feel a bit...scolded? He wasn’t sure.

Jeff Holdrum cleared his throat. “This is just about getting to know her.”

“Right-o. I thought you already interviewed her.”

“Some...things have changed.”

“Hell, life has a way o’ doing that, don’t you know.” Then he folded his arms and waited. He just hoped Diane didn’t begin on her back foot. Weakness didn’t stand up well against these folks. Given Madge was a woman, he hoped she was here to protect Diane, but he’d also seen enough women go after other women to know better than to hope.

He felt the unmistakable change of room pressure as the door at the back opened. Three sets of eyes left him and looked to the rear. He was tempted not to look at all, but then he changed his mind.

Diane was walking up the center aisle with the baby carrier all decked out in fresh yellow in one hand, the denim diaper bag over her shoulder and a briefcase in hand. He eyed her with admiration. Not only was she lovely, she’d also been serious about putting all her cards on the table. No mistaking it. Her stride was almost defiant.