Page 39 of Her Wild Coast Promise

“Would it help you to know that Noah felt the same way?”

“A little,” he says. “Is our opponent asking for donations?”

“Yes.”

He scrubs down his face with his hand, squeezing his chin before huffing a deep breath.

“Chief Kauffman’s last campaign raised thirty thousand dollars,” I add.

Seth scowls. “What on earth did he spend it on?”

“Mostly advertising. Flyers, certified mailings, radio ads.”

“Shit, that’s right. I remember those.” He goes pale. “Am I going to have to do that?”

“That’s up to you, but it’s very effective. Think of how vast McKenzie County is, Seth. There’s no way you could possibly go door to door meeting every person. So we have to get your message out there in other ways.”

“I understand,” he says, but I can tell by how hollow it sounds that I’m losing him.

“Do I have your permission to publish this?” I ask.

“You’re the boss.”

I laugh. Under the table, I cross my fingers that he doesn’t get curious about Peyton Reece’s campaign website. It’s slick and professional and would likely overwhelm Seth right now, and he doesn’t need any more reasons to be apprehensive.

Seth’s phone buzzes. He gives me a “one minute” gesture with his finger before answering.

While he barks out a series of replies to the caller, a detail about Peyton’s campaign claws to the surface of my thoughts. Why is Peyton’s website so over the top, anyway? Is the sheriff job just a stepping stone for her? Or is it a sign she’s not as confident as she comes across? Digging into this is next on my agenda.

Noah ends his call. “Sorry.”

“No problem,” I reply, pulling out my master calendar where I’ve already added Seth’s shift schedule and existing campaign dates. “We need to pick a spot for the debate, a few for speeches, and another for an interview with KFAB radio.”

Seth frowns at the calendar. “Uh.”

“Statistically, Sunday nights are the best slot for debates.” I tap an available Sunday. “How about this?”

“That’s only four weeks away,” Seth says.

“Plenty of time,” I assure him.

He gives me a look. “Okay.”

“I suggest the radio interview date should be before that. They have Wednesday the twenty first?”

Seth taps the edge of the table with his thumb. “That’ll work.”

I add this to the calendar. “For the speech, I was thinking of a Veteran’s Day kind of message, highlight your service? We could stage it at the Fort Kittitas National Cemetery.”

He swivels in his chair, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean bystage? Fort Kittitas is a military institution and I won’t glorify the sacrifice others have made for some PR stunt.”

“Seth,” I say in a stern tone. “That’s not at all what I’m proposing here. My job is to find ways your community can relate to you on a human level.”

His facial muscles quiver, like there’s an emotion there he’s trying to protect.

I place my hand gently on his. The connection between us is instantaneous and powerful and it takes me a moment to regain my train of thought. “Let me help you share your candor and integrity with your community. Think of the speech as a gift to those who have served. A way to honor them. It doesn’t have to be about you at all. It doesn’t even have to be about the election.”

“And people will listen to that?” he asks, a dash of humor in his eyes.

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