“Sure, thanks.” The woman plucked a piece of scone from the tray.
As she bit into it, Norah went in for the kill. “We’re also looking for signatures on our petition. Are you aware that GrandGoods intends to build a store out by Hope Springs?”
Mouth full, the woman nodded.
“We feel that’s too important an issue not to be a full popular vote. We’re collecting signatures to overturn the City Council decision and make it a public referendum. Are you registered to vote in Wishful?” At the next nod, Norah smiled broadly and offered the clipboard. “Can we count on your support?”
After another brief hesitation, the woman shrugged and took the petition.
Norah took the clipboard back. “Thanks so much! And won’t you try the blueberry muffins too? They’re delicious.”
Norah bid her a good day and moved on to the next vehicle. Cam watched her repeat the routine twice more before the light changed—Christ, he hadn’t truly realized it was this bad—getting signatures from one and stepping back onto the sidewalk as they drove on their merry way.
“Two out of three isn’t bad.”
“The third one isn’t registered to vote in this county.” Seeing their reinforcements arriving, she handed him a tray and shoved the petition clipboard into his chest. “You have dimples, sugar. Go use ’em for the cause.”
Cam went to work, while Norah trained their backup on the spiel. They fell into a rhythm, going out in pairs, seldom coming in with fewer than two signatures, sometimes more. Between turns, Cam managed to nab a ham and cheese croissant and some coffee. Not exactly the lunch of champions, but it would tide him over. As the lunch hour ended and bled into early afternoon, traffic slowed. Grabbing a freshly refilled tray of margarita cupcakes and strawberry danish, Cam stepped out for his next round.
Only one car had pulled up to the light, an aging Civic with a driver that might as well have sported a T-shirt screaming Not from around here. Mid-twenties, with square rim, Hipster glasses, he had city written all over him. Not a registered voter in Wachoxee County. But this wasn’t just about the petition, so he stepped up anyway and smiled.
“Afternoon. Can I offer you a sample from Sweet Magnolias Bakery? We’ve got cupcakes and danish.”
“Oooo, gimme. I’m starving.” A dark-haired girl leaned over from the passenger seat and reached for a cupcake.
Cam froze as recognition set in. “You’re Cecily.”
She looked up, surprised. “I am…and I know I would remember if I’d met you.”
“No, we’ve never met. I’m—” The guy who followed your former boss to Chicago and stood around like some kind of creepy stalker listening to your conversation. Yeah, no. Not the way to introduce himself.
Now Cecily’s eyes were narrowed in speculation. “You’re a Campbell. You resemble Mitch.” She snapped her fingers. “You’re Norah’s Campbell!”
That sounded a lot better.
“I am. Cam Crawford.”
“And I’m Christoff Bergen,” the driver said. “Does somebody want to tell me what’s going on?”
“I’m guessing you’re here loo
king for Norah. If you’ll pull off and park around the corner there, she’s just inside the bakery.”
Cecily took a bite of cupcake. “I’d say that’s kismet.”
~*~
Norah turned and nearly dropped the tray full of pastries in her hands, as she watched her former personal assistant walk through the door, trailed by Cecily. “What are you doing here?”
“Now is that any way to greet your loyal minions?” Christoff asked.
“I’m in shock.” She hastily set down the tray and opened her arms to pull him in for a hard hug. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Back atcha, gorgeous.” He pulled back and looked her over with a critical eye. “It seems being back below the Mason-Dixon agrees with you. Or maybe it’s this tall drink of water over here.” His gaze shifted to Cam.
Laughing, Norah made introductions.
“Well, you weren’t kidding,” Cecily said.