The Single Mom's Second Chance

Evan glanced at Claire and then back at Mr. Banks. “Is that necessary? I’m pretty sure everyone voting already knows us.”

“It’s a formality,” the stand-in mayor huffed.

Evan bit back a laugh. He coughed once and then cleared his throat. “And this is Goose Harbor—hardly the place for formalities.”

Mr. Banks scowled. “Are you certain you’re qualified for this office, Mr. Daniels?”

Claire stepped forward. “I was just trying to talk him out of it, too!”

Mr. Banks narrowed his eyes at them. “To rise to the needs of the position of mayor, I hope you’re both going to start caring about formalities and acting professionally.” He smoothed his hand down his bright orange tie. “Our town deserves that from their elected.”

“Of course.” Claire bristled. “I only meant—”

Mr. Banks cut her off with a deep frown. “We need to discuss when is best for both of you regarding the board of trustees planning the competitive events for this election.”

“Excuse me?” Claire wrapped her arms around Alex and pulled him to stand in front of her like a human shield.

“I’m with her.” Evan jutted his thumb. “What do you mean by competitive events?”

Mr. Banks groaned and shook his head. “Pie eating contests, fund-raising, talent shows. Some or other manner of horrible sorts of things like that. You know how this town is.”

“We’re running for mayor.” Chill painted red across Claire’s cheeks. “Not a pageant title.”

Evan chuckled, trying to lighten her mood. “And if we were, it’s awful cold for a swimsuit competition, not that I’d turn one down.”

She twisted toward him. “How do you expect anyone to actually vote for you? You can’t be serious for even three minutes. It’s unbelievable.”

Alex spun in his mom’s arms. “He can, too. You should hear him at Sunday school. He talks about God better than any of the Atwoods do.”

Claire gripped Alex by the shoulder, snagging her son’s attention. “Don’t forget, you’re an Atwood, too.”

He shrugged and pushed out of her reach. “Must be why I don’t really know God at all.”

Mr. Banks worked his jaw. “It’s cold out here, and if you haven’t noticed, my coat’s still inside. This was supposed to be a quick conversation.”

“Apologies.” Claire plastered on a smile. “Continue.”

“Per the town’s charter, those running for mayor must take part in friendly competitions.”

Evan brought his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat again. “I guess the thing that has us confused is we’ve never done that with an election in the past. I’ve lived here my whole life and I’ve never heard any of this.”

Mr. Banks closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head slightly, as if Evan and Claire were gnats buzzing by his ears. “We haven’t had more than one person running for mayor in a long time.” He shivered and made as if he was about to leave, but then added, “I’m moving up the election, too. It’ll be the second week of March.”

Claire’s mouth opened, closed, opened again. “But that’s...that’s only a little more than a month away.”

“I suggest you get to campaigning.” Mr. Banks scooted backward, in the direction of the entranceway. “I’ll contact you both with the date and details for the first event. I assume weekends and evenings work best?”

They both nodded.

Evan dug in his pockets, searching for another cough drop, but found nothing.

“This ridiculousness can’t be done soon enough for me,” Mr. Banks said. “May the best person win.”

“Thanks.” Claire hugged her folder. “I intend to.”

Alex waved at Evan while Claire tugged her son toward the car. Evan watched them leave before heading to his heavy-duty truck. “What did I just get myself into?”

Chapter Two (#u5499602c-5d7a-5416-a3fb-5e38a49ef682)

“You can do this. It’ll be no different than talking to anyone else,” Claire coached herself, occasionally glancing into her car’s rearview mirror as she drove across town. Gray clouds crowded together and rolled over each other in the sky like a group of children pushing toward the promise of free ice cream. They were making their way over Lake Michigan, directly toward her. Goose Harbor was in for another round of lake effect snow.

Good. A pending storm was the perfect excuse. That gave her a reason to keep the visit short.

Visit.

That was hardly the right word.

Since being home, Claire had made a point of never driving past Evan’s house. Not a difficult task considering he lived in the thick, wooded area on the far reaches of the town’s limits—almost in the unincorporated section that belonged to the county. Claire rarely had a need to head out in that direction, and even if she did, there were roads she could take to bypass the stretch of land she knew he owned.

Now it all felt silly. She’d mentally blown this moment—contact with Evan initiated by her—way out of proportion.

Why had she let a person from her past, someone she hadn’t uttered a word to in more than a decade, have that sort of control on her life? She’d gotten over Evan a long time ago. He was an immature mistake. Falling for a cute guy had been an understandable blunder on the cusp of adulthood. She’d met plenty of people in college with far bigger regrets. So she’d entertained the idea of running off with her high school boyfriend, getting married at the county courthouse? It hadn’t happened.

Good, again.

She glanced in the rearview mirror another time. Dark storm clouds bubbled behind her. She’d focus on the behind her part. The path ahead of her was known, easy. Goose Harbor, her family, working for her father—she could have a life here. And the past was just that, the past. It couldn’t harm her any longer.

And yet her hands were trembling on the steering wheel.

“He has no power over me. None.”

Sure, she’d mourned their relationship, and the question Why wasn’t I good enough? still lingered. But it wasn’t as if she’d spent years pining after him. Claire had moved on a long time ago, which was why she’d been able to get engaged to Auden Pierce, the most sought-after solutions architect for Fortune 500 companies, two years ago. At the stop sign she glanced down at her bare left ring finger and sighed. She’d called off the wedding six months in advance, leaving Auden speechless at first—not an easy feat—but at least she’d given him warning long before the day of the ceremony.

Unlike Evan.

Before she left Goose Harbor for college, Evan had still lived with his parents on a run-down piece of parched land that her father rented to the Danielses. Evan’s dad had been forever behind on payments, but her father had never kicked them out, though he’d threatened it many times. Often Mom would blow up and yell about the Danielses at family dinners, but Dad had always talked her off the ledge. He’d explained to Claire that it was their “Godly duty” to help out the unfortunate. Oddly, it was the only time Dad had ever been remotely spiritually minded or seemed to care about people who were in a different tax bracket than the Atwoods.

Curiosity about the Danielses had bloomed in Claire at a young age, probably because of her parents’ heated fights over the family. When she’d finally rubbed shoulders with Evan in classes during freshman year of high school, she’d hung back, studied him. Evan had been one of those students who commanded the classroom with a funny remark and a winning smile. He’d strutted the hallways, high-fiving upperclassmen while a flood of followers trailed after him. As a teenager, he’d always been smiling, joking and full of confidence. While he hadn’t been a jock or among the top tier of popular kids, he’d been well liked by everyone.

Her father’s word—unfortunate—had never fitted Evan’s brothers, Brice and Andrew, either. He had a younger sister, too, but Claire didn’t know Laura well.

Over the years Claire had grown to despise that word unfortunate.

Who decided the merits of a fortunate person versus an unfortunate one? Were finances all that mattered when applying the label? It was one of those words that, when used by someone in good economic standing to describe others, felt like a pat to the speaker’s back and an insult to the one being described. In her social circles, especially among her Christian friends, she’d heard it a hundred times since her father had first uttered the word.

“Let’s organize a fund-raiser to help those unfortunate children without clean water in Africa.”

“I saw this homeless man on the side of the road with a sign—how unfortunate.”