Page 50 of Be My Baby

“Really? You really think they might?”

“There’s only one way to find out, right?” she said.

Max nodded, the light in his eyes growing by the second. “Let’s do it.”

*

Max grabbed Millie’shand as they walked up the shallow steps to the wide double doors of the council building. They’d had to wait until office hours, a wait that had seemed to last an eternity.

He had fielded so many well wishes and commiserations from the locals they’d passed that it had taken over half an hour to get from the carpark to the doors where they now stood. On one hand, it warmed him to his toes that so many people had offered to help any way they could; on the other, it was frustrating as hell when he had somewhere to be.

Heneededto know if those plans were available.

Tearful couples had stopped them, sharing their loved memories of the place. First dates, proposals, baby showers, Christmas parties. It had all happened at that bar.

He’d been party to many secret set-ups. Only a few months earlier it had been Dante organising the O’Brien brothers to have him and Belle pop that cracker with her engagement ring in it. The look on her face had been priceless. He’d been part of so many people’s special moments. His own brothers had met the loves of their lives there. Both of them. He didn’t want to lose that, lose his place amongst the locals. He loved the atmosphere, loved the happiness and excitement that owning the Cow had given him.

He loved being a part of something bigger than himself. It drowned out the loneliness that sometimes hit him hard in the dead of night.

The receptionist showed them to a small waiting room toward the rear of the council chambers and motioned for them to sit. She disappeared back the way they’d come, leaving them alone.

“Mornin’, Max.”

Roland Suffolk’s usual booming voice was subdued this morning. Max looked up, surprised the mayor was in this section of the building.

“Amelie mentioned you were here, and why. I thought I’d help look.”

Max didn’t know what to say, so he simply nodded, his throat tight and dry. He couldn’t even get a thank you past his lips, but Roland seemed to understand anyway.

Roland shoved open the door into a cool, darkened room. He flicked some vintage switches as they went past them.

Max stared at them. So similar to the ones he’d had at the Cow.

“You might want to get those switches checked, Roland. In case of bad wiring and all that.”

Roland looked at him in shock, then a booming laugh enveloped them. “I’m glad you still seem to have your sense of humour, Max. I was worried for a moment there.”

Max shrugged. He didn’t feel amused, but he was glad it had lightened the tension.

Roland led them between long rows of metal shelving stacked high with archive boxes. “It’s actually on our agenda for this coming financial year to have all of these,” he waved at the shelves as they walked through them, “transferred to digital copies, as well as the originals, which we’ll keep. We’re going to move the originals to the new Foundation Building on Matheson Street, where they’ll be kept in a specially designed vault.”

Max nodded, taking in the neat stacks of boxes and files. Roland had been mayor for two terms now and he liked things keptjust so.

“Ahhh! Here we are.”

Roland stopped in front of a deeper line of shelving, with wide, shallow, drawers from knee level all the way up over their heads. He ran his finger along the alphabetical lettering and came to S.

“We could have filed it underHorse and Plough, but I believe it should be in here.”

TheHorse and Ploughhad been the very first name of the pub—then an inn—when it had first opened in 1882. Max wasn’t surprised in the least that Roland knew that. He took his job as mayor very seriously and loved every aspect of the town they called home.

Roland lifted several plastic-enclosed sheets and let out a triumphant, “Aha!” and shuffled the long, wide sheet of thick plastic out and held it up to the light. He grinned at Max and Millie.

Max leaned forward and looked at the old draftsman drawings. “It’s not from the beginning.” He lifted the edge of the plastic and looked at the date. 1940. A quick scan of the paper had him smiling, “but it’s from the current shape and build.” He looked up at Roland and Millie, excitement finally igniting a tiny spark in his heart and leaking onto his face as a small smile. “It’s perfect.”

Roland clapped him on the shoulder, his own grin wide and free. “You, my boy, would have to be the luckiest son of a gun I know.” His grin settled into a gentle smile. “You’re probably sick of hearing it, but I’m really sorry this has happened, Max. I know how hard you and Simon worked to get that place the way it was.” He straightened and nodded, as if to himself, and motioned at the drawings. “But, you have the means to make that place even better. You’ve got this, son.”

Chapter Seventeen

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