Page 66 of Don't Tell Me How to Die

Even by Schultz’s standards the attack was ugly and evil and inflammatory. I could see the sweat on Justin’s face as she lashed into him. His hand tremors were more pronounced. Finally, fists clenched, he stood up to respond, clutched his chest, and fell forward. Half a dozen doctors raced to his side to help. One gave him CPR. But he was dead before he hit the floor.

Minna Schultz had claimed another victim.

Justin Theobald was only fifty-five. There were no successors on the horizon. The board asked Alex to step in. They said it was temporary, but none of the candidates measured up to either Theobald or Alex. A month later the board came back to Alex. They promised he wouldn’t have to give up surgery, but for the first few years his medical practice would have to take a back seat.

He wavered. And then they told him he was the only person who could pick up the standard and help realize his mentor’s dream.

That was the knockout punch, and Alex became the new CEO of Heartstone Medical.

The following morning Minna Schultz announced that she was running for mayor of Heartstone. It was a brilliant move. The current mayor was retiring after two terms, and the field was wide open. If Minna won, the new trauma center would most likely lose its funding.

Money people don’t part with their money unless all the regulatory approvals are in place. As mayor, Minna would wreak havoc with the town planning board, the health department, the DEC, and every other governmental agency she could infiltrate. Backers don’t like political resistance, and they would bow out.

Alex and his team spent the weekend at an off-campus conference center brainstorming for ideas that would stop Minna.

That Sunday evening, he came home drained, but with a gleam in his eyes.

“You figured it out, didn’t you?” I said.

“I think we did,” he said. “We’re putting up our own candidate for mayor. We’ll hire a seasoned campaign manager, put together a strong marketing team, staff it with field workers to get out the vote, and fund it like it’s a statewide election instead of a mayoral race in a town of fifteen thousand people. We can do it, Maggie. We can win.”

“You bet we can win,” I said. “The kids and I volunteer to lick envelopes. Who’s the candidate?”

“You.”

“Very funny. Who’s the candidate?”

“I’m serious, Maggie. The five of us made a list of possible candidates in private, and then we compared lists. You were at the top of every one.”

“You want me to run for mayor? That’s insane.”

“No. Minna running for mayor is insane. You running might be more of a Hail Mary, but it also might be a brilliant strategy. You were born and raised here. Everyone knows you. They know your family. You already work for the people as a prosecutor. You’re photogenic. You’re a great speaker. You don’t have any skeletons in your?—”

“Stop, stop, stop,” I said. “Being able to smile for a camera, speak to a crowd, and having a recognizable last name aren’t exactly good reasons for me to run for mayor.”

“I wasn’t telling you why I thought you shouldrun. I was telling you why I thought you couldwin. And if you win, Heartstone wins. This trauma center will mean more jobs, a shot in the arm for the local economy, and dramatically better health care for our community.”

“Maybe so, but I’m an officer of the court, and it’s going to look like I’m in cahoots with my husband, who is CEO of the hospital. You back my candidacy, I win, and Heartstone Med has the mayor in their back pocket.”

Alex laughed. “First of all, anyone who knows you would know you’ve never been in anybody’s back pocket. Second of all, who cares what itlookslike? All I know is that if Minna Schultz wins, Justin’s dream is moribund, and our town loses the opportunity of a lifetime.”

“And that greedy bitch will make millions selling views of something she doesn’t even own,” I said, taking the bait.

“It sounds like you’re running,” he said, reeling me in.

I ran. I ran the only way I know how—with all my heart and body and soul and with every ounce in my being.

And on that rainy evening in November, an hour and a half after the polls closed, with every television in McCormick’s Bar turned to Hudson Valley News, the final results scrolled across the screen.

Minna Schultz: 2,109

Maggie McCormick-Dunn: 7,781

Eight weeks later, on January first, with my friends and family filling the first six rows of the community center, and my eighty-nine-year-old grandfather holding the Bible given to him by his grandfather, I was sworn in as the first female mayor of Heartstone, New York.

After the swearing-in ceremony, Grandpa Mike took me aside. “I wish your grandmother and your mom were here to see this. I know they’d be as proud of you as I am. Probably more. How do you feel, girl?”

“God’s honest truth, Grandpa... I’m still in shock. One minute I was prosecuting criminals, and the next minute I’m running a town. I’m not sure how it all happened.”

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