Page 12 of The Last Love Song
“You should be running this town.”
The words took a moment to sink in.
“Excuse me?” She wondered if it was too late to bolt from this conversation.
“You realize who tied with me for most write-in votes when no one wanted to run for mayor after your dad’s death?”
She’d heard, but she’d been hurting at the time. And something about the news had felt like an ironic slap in the face since the Finley patriarch had never wanted his family involved in his public life. For Dad, the town meant everything—including an escape from a home life that overwhelmed him between five kids and a demanding wife with serious health issues.
So many times she’d tried to be a part of his world, to help him with things related to the mayor’s duties. But unless he needed a cute kid for a ceremonial ribbon cutting, he kept his family far from his work.
“You can’t seriously be suggesting I…” She shook her head. “I can’t even guess. You run the town, Zach. And you do a great job at it.”
He nodded. “I took the job because the council didn’t want to approach you so soon after your father died. But you’ve lived here all your life and you know the demands of the job. You have experience building a successful business from the ground up?—”
“Whoa.” She stiffened in her chair, unable to absorb what he was saying. “I’m going to stop you right there. I’m flattered, and I think this is kind of you?—”
“It’s not kindness, Heather. It makes sense.” He sat forward on his seat, too, his knee brushing hers briefly.
The warmth of that small contact stole through her, reminding her of the confused mix of feelings from the night before. Had he only been nice to her to talk her into this? Taking over the mayor’s duties?
She’d suspected him of romancing her for some kind of short-term fling. She sure hadn’t expected a political proposal.
“Maybe toyouit makes sense, but it doesn’t to me. And I don’t want to be guilted into yet another reason to stay here.”
He frowned. “Guilted?”
She swallowed, wishing she’d kept that thought to herself.
“I mean—I’ve got everything packed. I’ve put a lot of thought into pursuing my dream. I don’t want to feel like I’m letting you down or letting down the whole town by leaving. This decision came with a lot of difficulties, and that’s before you threw all this on it, too. I feel bad enough I’m leaving so many of my music students.” She remembered one of the articles she’d read online about stress making her condition worse.
She so didn’t need another flare-up because of Zach’s pressure. If she could just get out of town for a couple of months and get things under control, things would be better.
“I’m not suggesting you take the mayor’s seat to pressure you.” He laid a hand on her forearm.
It was a social touch—the kind of touch a person used to convey something heartfelt or important. But coming from Zach, it stirred a fresh wave of warmth that rattled her to her toes.
She stared at that connection. Just a hand on an arm. But the feel of it shook something inside her that she hadn’t felt in her last relationship, even though there’d been far more intimacy. Her pulse pounded.
“Maybe not, but that’s the upshot.” She shrugged. “You’re doing a great job. I can’t imagine why you’d want to hand it over. A small-town mayor has lots of perks and prestige.”
“It requires far more time than I realized when I first accepted, and I think you’re really well suited for the job.” His gaze dropped to where he touched her before he slid his hand away. “But I definitely don’t want to pressure you. If you truly have dreams to chase, Heather, you should.”
She sifted through his words, thinking about their conversation. The music piping through the speakers shifted to something slow and romantic, and one of the older couples—Daisy Spencer and her boyfriend, Harlan Brady—stood up to shuffle-waltz in a slow circle. Mrs. Spencer was in her eighties and she had knee trouble, but Mr. Brady moved so carefully with her it made Heather’s heart squeeze to see them.
Would she still be dancing in her eighties? Her diagnosis terrified her. The disease could cripple joints into almost unrecognizable configurations. No doubt about it—these were her dancing years.
She let out a breath. “I’d really love to create music that makes people happy.” She pointed to the older couple swaying on the lawn all by themselves. “You see them? I wish I could write a song that moves people to dance like that.”
She turned to find Zach watching her, something inscrutable in his expression.
“What?” Self-conscious, she wondered if he thought she’d never pull it off. “Is that such a crazy dream?”
“Definitely not.” His expression cleared. “I couldn’t imagine you being happy outside of Heartache, but I guess now I can picture it. I never knew you were so passionate about music.”
“It doesn’t come up at council meetings or softball games.” She paused, thinking about the only places she normally saw him. “The store was more Erin’s dream than mine. I just wanted to help her bring that to life, and I had some good ideas, but now that she’s off and running, it’s time for me to get serious about my own ambitions.”
“Away from your family and friends.” He nodded, as if he was still trying to piece together her true reasons for leaving town.
