Page 24 of Sugar & Shadows

Annoyance surged through me. Her confidence was lethal. Meanwhile, I was shaken up from sleeping on the couch after an evening spent replaying the recall, the festival loss, and the town meetings in my head.

Defeated, I opened the door and climbed in.

Sneering at the Pop Tart in my hand, she asked, “Is that your breakfast?”

I took my second sip of coffee. “Yup.”

She faced forward and put the car in drive. “Good. I prefer my opponents malnourished.”

The drive to Montpelier was two and a half hours. Fuck.

“You sure I can’t drive? It’s supposed to snow later.” I held up my phone, showing her the town Facebook page, where several people had posted photos. “Betsy Ross was found on Founder’s Hill this morning, sleeping next to the cannon.”

“You say that like I’m supposed to understand.”

I ran my hand through my hair. “Betsy Ross? The bear?”

“Oh, the one that ruined my shoe? I still want to hunt her down and turn her into a rug.”

I snorted. After what the bear had done to my car, I had little sympathy for this woman’s damn shoe.

“Yes. It’s a sign that a big snowstorm is coming. Every time Betsy wanders up Founder’s Ridge and falls asleep next to the old cannon, we practically get snowed in.”

“Really? This bear predicts the weather?” She scoffed. “The app on my phone has only forecasted a light sprinkle.”

Settling in, I shrugged. “Ignore Betsy at your peril.”

“I’ll stick with science, thank you,” she said, turning up the music.

As she navigated through town, toward the highway, I willed my brain to wake up and prepare for what this day would bring. The citizens of Maplewood were buzzing about Sabrina Monroe. She’d been spotted everywhere and had talked to everyone. Every person I came across couldn’t stop talking about was how smart and charming she was. About how she would save the day.

While I wanted nothing more than to let someone else take some of this responsibility off my plate, it ate at me that she was the only option.

For several minutes, I argued silently with myself about what I wanted to say to her. Then, probably against my better judgment, I blurted, “You shouldn’t have arranged these meetings without talking to me first.”

She humphed. “You shouldn’t have lost the State Maple Festival and endangered our town, but here we are.”

As I studied her—calmly focused on the road and wearing a pair of sunglasses that only made her more intimidating—my stomach clenched.

“We’re starting the day with the director of the Vermont Department of Tourism,” she said, moving on. “He’s a typical bureaucrat. I plan to demand they turn over the data used to make this decision. That way I can understand what kind of metrics they evaluate and figure out how much backdoor lobbying went into it.”

She signaled, changing lanes without interrupting her lecture.

“Next are the co-chairs of the Vermont Maple Producers Association. That should be interesting. This is where the rubber meets the road. And then we’ve got the secretary of Economic Development and the director of Rural Economic Initiatives. This department has the potential to do a lot for us, so we’ve got to build these relationships. They issue the grants for innovation programs, revitalization projects, and infrastructure.”

“And the walk and talk?” I snarked.

She glared at me quickly before turning back to the road. “State Senator Tomlinson. This was a big get. She likes to get her steps in between legislative sessions.” She checked her rearview mirror. “She could be a key ally for us in the chamber.”

I stared ahead at the stretch of I-89. This was borderline unbelievable. My staff had spent months trying to get someone from the tourism office to return our calls. Yet Sabrina Monroe had scheduled four meetings in one day and on short notice?

“How did you do this?”

“I have my ways. When people are worried you could become a problem for them, they’re motivated to listen.”

I sighed. Sabrina was already a problem for me. A competent, brilliant problem. One I wanted as far away from my beloved town as possible.

I’d built my entire life around Maplewood. I’d stayed behind when, deep down, I thought maybe I wanted to leave. That led to taking the jobs no one else wanted. Trading in a big paycheck for homemade pies and hugs. Sitting through endless meetings and fighting for budgets that barely stretched far enough to keep the town going.