Mayor of Macon's Point - By Inglath Cooper Page 0,2
persuade a man with enough money to live out the rest of his days on some private island sipping tropical drinks not to sound the death knell for Corbin Manufacturing.
And before she got around to that, all she had to do was finish drying her hair, change her blouse, drop her son off at the babysitter’s and deliver Cyrus to the emergency animal hospital. While she was at it, maybe she’d leap a tall building or two just for good measure.
* * *
JACK CORBIN PULLED INTO the parking lot of Walker’s Restaurant a few minutes before seven. He cut the engine to the Carrera, and it let out a throaty rumble before going silent.
September twilight gave the near-night sky a rosy glow. An easy breeze fanned the leaves of a giant old beech tree that hugged the right side of the building. Jack had ridden his bike by there the morning Mr. Walker had planted that tree. He must have been eight or nine years old then. He’d stopped to ask what kind it was, and Mr. Walker had told him when the tree grew up it would have roots that looked like gnarled old feet. They did indeed.
Jack ran a palm across a cheek badly in need of a shave, then reached for his cell phone and punched in his office number.
“Corbin, Mitchell Consulting. Pete Mitchell here.”
“Hey, Pete.”
“You make it out to the boonies?”
“Just got here. And if you weren’t from Arkansas, I’d be offended.”
Pete laughed. “Fair enough. I just got an email from Fogelman in London a little while ago. Wanted to know when you were coming. I told him you were going to be held up for a week or two. They’re anxious for you to get there. But if I had a business in that kind of shape, I’d be anxious, too.”
“Actually, I do have a business in that kind of shape. I just don’t plan to keep it.”
“Auction’s all set?”
“Yep. Wish I could snap my fingers and have it be over.”
“It’s a bummer, that’s for sure. Maybe this London stint will be good for you.”
“With Fogelman breathing down my neck?”
“That’s the needle across the record. ’Fraid he comes with the deal. It was a lucrative one, so you’d better get used to the idea.”
“I knew there was a reason I asked you to be a partner in this firm.”
“Pep Talks ’R’ Us.”
“Everybody’s gotta be good for something,” Jack said, reaching for the notepad he kept in the center console and scribbling a reminder to email Fogelman his best guess on when he would be arriving.
“So you’ve got the big meeting with the mayor tonight?”
“During which I’ll try to convince her that even after forty-seven phone calls, I haven’t changed my mind. And I’m not going to.”
“Have to give her an A for persistence.”
“Or aggravation.”
Pete chuckled. “Wonder if she’s single.”
“Do you ever get your mind wrapped around any other subject?”
“I try to discourage it. You’d do well to borrow the philosophy.”
“Out of the market.”
“When are you going to quit beating yourself up about that, Jack? Lots of people change their mind about getting married. Better before than after.”
“At the altar, though?”
“Okay, so right before.”
“Which makes me a very bad cliché.”
“No. Just a man who hasn’t found the right woman.”
Jack aimed the conversation in another direction. “I left a file on my desk with some info I need for the lawyers on the auction. How about scanning it and emailing it to me?”
“Not a problem. They have phone jacks down there?”
“Watch it.”
“Do it before I leave.”
“Check in with you tomorrow.” Jack hit the end button on his phone, dropped it on the passenger seat.
Another car pulled up beside him. A man and woman got out, fortyish, headed for the restaurant holding hands. She dropped her head back and laughed at something the man said, her hair brushing her shoulders. A single glimpse of the two made it clear they were a couple of long standing, their ease with one another nearly tangible. A pang of envy hit Jack in the chest, surprising him with its lingering sting. Ironic considering that a year and a half ago, he’d broken off his engagement to a perfectly nice woman because in the end, he hadn’t been able to go against his own belief that it wouldn’t last.
Jack got out of the car, closed the door with a solid ka-chunk. He crossed the parking lot, fighting with the knot of his tie. What was he doing here, anyway? In addition to