Page 77 of Lion's Share
It was enough. For now, it was enough.
Epilogue
I slipped my ballot into the box and headed out to the vestibule of City Hall, where Ben was waiting for me. Although no campaigning was allowed within a hundred feet of the voting area, I didn’t think anyone was going to mind the small “Vote Right — Vote Cartwright” button clipped to my purse strap.
Eliza was still worried about how everything would turn out, but I had a feeling her fretting was more wasted energy than anything else. After the departure of Dr. Rosenthal and her DAPI agents, everything had settled down here in Silver Hollow, including the electromagnetic energy from the portal. The readings had finally stabilized at levels that wouldn’t interfere with daily life, although they remained high enough to keep the gateway between worlds accessible when needed.
I had to admit it was kind of weird that I could sense those readings, could simply reach out with this weird gift of mine and know exactly where they’d landed on any particular day, sort of like having a permanent electromagnetic weather station taking up residence in my brain.
“So,” Ben said as we stepped out into the genuine sunshine of that late July afternoon, the first truly clear day we’d had in weeks, “feeling good about democracy in action?”
A smile tugged at my lips. “I think Silver Hollow’s finally about to get the leadership it deserves.” I glanced back toward the big stone building where people were still filing in to cast their votes. “Have you seen Linda Fields around anywhere?”
“She was holding court near the parking lot earlier, but I think she’s moved on to harass voters at the elementary school…from a legal distance, of course.” Ben’s mouth also quirked in amusement. “And it sounds like she’s launched an eleventh-hour campaign slogan: ‘Transparency and Accountability.’”
“Too bad her version of transparency involved trying to expose federal secrets for political gain,” I said, and he nodded.
The past few weeks had been the deep exhalation we’d all needed. After Dr. Rosenthal’s abrupt departure, Silver Hollow had returned to normal. No more federal agents skulking around, no more mysterious equipment failures, no more shadow stalkers lurking at the edges of perception.
Just Silver Hollow being Silver Hollow, the way it was supposed to be.
“Want to grab some coffee while we wait for the election results?” Ben asked, inclining his head toward Eliza’s café, a few blocks away. I’d noticed earlier as I was walking to work that she’d put a sign in the window announcing she’d be serving free coffee and donuts to voters all day. Her restaurant usually wasn’t open past two, but I guessed she’d decided to keep the café running until the polls closed, most likely as a way to distract herself.
As Ben and I made our way down Main Street, I found myself thinking about how much had changed since that first day I’d read Agent Morse’s thoughts after she came into my pet store. Luckily, those unexpected glimpses into other people’s thoughts had grown far more infrequent as the energies in the area stabilized, and now I found myself hoping they might retreat altogether. One crazy extra-sensory gift was enough, thank you very much.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Ben said, and I realized I’d been quiet for almost our entire walk.
“Just thinking about how different everything feels now.” I reached out and took his hand, grateful as always for the solid warmth of his presence. “Three months ago, I was convinced my life was falling apart. Now….”
“Now you’re a guardian of interdimensional portals and dating a cryptozoologist,” he finished with a grin. “Not exactly the career path they prepare you for in veterinary school.”
“No,” I agreed, and couldn’t help chuckling. “Although I have to admit, it hasn’t been boring.”
His hazel eyes twinkled as he reached out to open the door to the café. The interior was buzzing with conversation, filled with voters taking advantage of Eliza’s generous offer. The atmosphere felt celebratory rather than tense — such a contrast to Linda’s chaotic “emergency meetings” from weeks past.
We grabbed iced teas and apple cider donuts, then found a small table near the window where we could watch the steady stream of people heading to and from City Hall. Just seeing everyone going about their daily business made something unknot deep inside me. We might have gotten close to the brink, but everything seemed fine now.
“Hey,” Ben said, after taking a bite of his donut, “I got some good news this morning.”
Good news was something all of us could use. “Oh?”
“The Nature Channel wants to move forward with my documentary proposal. The one about conservation efforts in areas with cryptid sightings.” His smile was cautious but pleased. “I guess Bigfoot still sells.”
I couldn’t help smiling. “But I assume you’ll slide a chupacabra in there somewhere.”
He returned my grin. “Of course. But the beauty of it is, I can frame the show from an environmental protection angle without having to reveal anything supernatural. Focus on preserving ecosystems that science doesn’t fully understand yet.”
“That’s brilliant,” I said, genuinely impressed. “And it will give you a legitimate reason to keep monitoring things here.”
Meaning that he had even more justification for sticking around Silver Hollow.
“Exactly,” he replied, and sipped some of his iced tea. “Plus, the show’s budget will let me upgrade some of my equipment and maybe bring in a graduate student to help with data analysis. Electromagnetic energy isn’t exactly my main field of study.”
That comment made me raise an eyebrow. “If you do get someone to help out, please make sure they’re a little less zealous than Marjorie Tran. We’ve got way too many secrets to keep.”
“Duly noted,” he said, and smiled again as he broke off a piece of donut and popped it in his mouth.
Despite my reservations, I also thought that having additional resources to help protect Silver Hollow would be a good thing. Whatever challenges still lay in wait for us, I hoped we’d be better prepared than we’d been when Dr. Rosenthal had descended on us with her theories about weaponizing dimensional instabilities.
