Page 46 of Make Me Love You

He held up a sheet of paper, cutting her off. “I’m being fined two hundred and fifty dollars for my lawn being over eight inches. Two hundred and fifty dollars! Now, if I had that kind of money, don’t you think I’d have had someone out to cut my damn lawn? How am I supposed to pay this?”

Emma stared at the notice he was waving in her face and swallowed hard. She had the feeling this was the result of Mrs. Gracen’s tantrum last week. As Mr. McKinley had pointed out, the law was very clearly on her side of things. Which meant poor Mr. Billings was in the wrong to the tune of two hundred and fifty dollars.

“I can’t mow it myself on account of the heart attack I had last year,” he went on, driving home the guilt with every word. “I live on social security, and the monthly check isn’t enough to cover a luxury like lawn mowing. Not if I want to eat and keep a roof over my head. What am I supposed to do? And before you suggest I lean on the kindness of neighbors, let me remind you that my neighbor is Bunny Gracen.”

“I—I don’t know.” But that wasn’t good enough, and she knew it. A mayor had to know. She squared her shoulders. “I’ll mow your lawn myself. Tomorrow. And I’ll have the fine canceled.” She could cancel town fines as mayor, couldn’t she? The answer was probably in one of those damned books Mr. Whittaker was so fond of.

His face softened. “That’s kind of you to offer, but it isn’t a real solution. You think I’m the only one in Hart’s Ridge with a wrecked body and worrisome bank account? The high school kids take care of us in the winter, but we’re on our own in the summer, and there’s at least a few dozen of us. What are you gonna do, mow all our lawns? Not even you, Emma.”

She didn’t know what he meant by that, but she wasn’t going to waste time worrying it through. The gears were already turning in her brain. The high school kids. She had a wonderful, horrible feeling that the solution had been right there in front of them for years, and it wasn’t Ordinance 2014-199.

Back when she attended John Hart High School, there had been a requirement of ten hours of community service to graduate. To help facilitate that, a school club had formed to shovel snow off sidewalks and driveways for Hart’s Ridge citizens who met certain income and need requirements.

“Why don’t you come in and have a seat?” she said. “I think I might have an idea.”

He gave her a doubtful look. “I suppose it won’t hurt to hear you out. And I’ll take you up on canceling the fine. If you could just put that in writing, I would appreciate it.”

Emma laughed. “Of course.” She took her seat behind the oak desk and Mr. Billings sat across from her. “The high school kids you mentioned. Is that the club for community service?”

“Right. That’s it. But they don’t do lawn service, just snow,” he said patiently.

“Just because they haven’t before doesn’t mean they can’t.” She pulled up the school website on her laptop. After a bit of searching, she found the page for the community service club. “It looks like Celia Smith is still the organizer. I’ll send her an email.” She typed out a quick message, included her phone number, and hit send. “There. I don’t know when I’ll hear back, since school is closed for the summer, but I’ll let you know the second I hear—”

Her phone rang, startling her. “Good morning, this is Mayor Andrews.” The words sounded funny coming from her own mouth.

“Emma! How are you, honey?” Mrs. Smith didn’t wait for a response before plowing forward. “See, the thing is, we don’t do lawn service. Just snow. Do you know how many people have heart attacks every year shoveling snow?”

“No,” Emma said. “How many?”

There was a pause. “A lot.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“That’s why we count it as a community service. Now, I’m not against adding lawn service, but there has to be a need for it. A benefit to the community members.”

“I believe it would help the same community members who aren’t physically or financially able to clear their own sidewalks and driveways,” Emma said. “Heart attacks can happen when you mow the lawn. And, um”—she Googled frantically—“heatstroke. Plus there’s a fine if your lawn is taller than eight inches, so that makes it even worse.”

“Two hundred and fifty dollars!” Mr. Billings bellowed.

“What was that?” Mrs. Smith said. “Who said that?”

“Mr. Billings. He’s in my office right now. He needs his lawn mowed for the same reasons he needs his snow shoveled. And now he’s looking at a fine of two-hundred-and-fifty dollars.”

“Goodness. That changes things.” Mrs. Smith heaved a sigh. “I don’t see any reason why we can’t incorporate lawn service into the community service club. I’m sure some students would love to get those hours done before senior year begins. I’ll get the details ironed out and touch base with you on Friday. Hopefully we can send someone out to Mr. Billings this weekend. How does that sound?”

“Fantastic!” Emma shouted. “I mean, that would be great. Thank you, Mrs. Smith.”

She hung up the phone and grinned at Mr. Billings, who nodded. “Well, that was easy. Don’t know why no one thought to try that before.”

“Oh.” Emma deflated slightly. “Right.”

Mr. Billings winked at her. “Don’t worry, kiddo. You did think to try that, that’s what matters. You have my vote in July.”

Normally, Emma would have murdered just about anyone who called her kiddo, but in this case she figured she would make an exception. “Thank you.”

She breathed a long sigh of relief as Mr. Billings exited her office, closing the door behind him. The clock read 10:50. Ten more minutes, and office hours would be over and she could call her first official day a success.

Because it was a success, which honestly surprised the hell out of her. She was out of her depth, and she still only had the faintest grasp of the differences between laws, regulations, and ordinances, much less when they actually applied. But she had solved two problems today. She had made lives better, and that was so much bigger than lamp posts.

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