The Christmas Campaign. Patricia Bradley

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      His heart speeded up. He and his grandfather had discussed the senior center he wanted built, but Jake had no idea there was a plan. If he could get his hands on it, he’d be light-years ahead of Peter.

      “Do you know when the city council meets?” he asked Millie.

      “The first and third Tuesday. They’ll be meeting tomorrow night.”

      His mind whirled. If he worked at it, he could present his proposal to the city council at tomorrow night’s meeting. But he needed a director...or maybe two.

      He eyed Millie. “You and Gunner are pretty familiar with what Grandfather wanted, right?”

      She beamed at him. “We are.”

      The couple might not have MBAs, but they knew what the senior center needed. He raised his eyebrows. “How would you and Gunner like to be the directors of the Richard Elliott Senior Center?”

      “Why, that’s exactly what your grandfather suggested,” she said.

      “Good. It’s settled, then. In the beginning, there won’t be any pay, though.”

      She put her hand on her hip. “Wouldn’t take it if there was any.” Then she frowned. “But how will you get the city council to put money into it? Your grandfather was worried about that.”

      Jake was as well, especially since he wasn’t that familiar with the council members. The only member he knew was the one for his district, Boyd Anderson. He wished now that he had attended a meeting or two. But at least the mayor was a good friend.

      “Isn’t that nice Nicole Montgomery on the city council?” Millie asked. “I know you could charm her into voting for it.”

      He searched his memory. He wasn’t familiar with her as a council member, but he’d gone to school with a Nicole Montgomery. The image of a dark-haired teenager floated to the surface—could that be her?

      “Do you know where I could find her tomorrow?”

      “She’s the bookkeeper for her daddy at Montgomery and Sons Construction Company,” Millie said. “And her mother is in my book club—we meet tomorrow night. I’ll work on her.”

      He stood. “Good. Now, let’s see if we can find Grandfather’s plan for the center.”

      If he could get Nicole Montgomery on his side along with the mayor, Peter wouldn’t have a chance.

CHAPTER TWO

      NICOLE MONTGOMERY CAREFULLY put the sixtieth candle on her father’s birthday cake, and wondered which of her brothers would make a crack about Daniel Montgomery not burning down the house. “Do you want the cake in the dining room?”

      “On the buffet.” Her mother turned to get something from the refrigerator.

      Nicole pushed open the dining room door and couldn’t keep a grin from sliding across her lips. She shook her head. As usual, her mom had gone all out. Blue and white streamers hung from the ceiling and birthday balloons floated up from their tethers, competing with Christmas decorations that had been up since the day after Thanksgiving.

      While normal people hit the stores at 5 a.m. on Black Friday, her mother decorated the family home, inside and out. It never seemed to faze her that a week later, she would add birthday decorations. If it’d been Nicole, she would have simply waited on the wreaths and Christmas trees.

      Back in the kitchen, she peeled the Idaho golds that would soon be her mother’s award-winning creamed potatoes.

      “Look at this.”

      Joyce Montgomery pushed her smartphone under her daughter’s nose. Nicole leaned back so she could see what was so important, but the words blurred. “It’s too close, I can’t read it.”

      “It’s a text from Sarah Redding, the director of the children’s shelter. Volunteers are needed this Saturday to help get the place ready for state inspection. I’m sure Peter Elliott will be there.”

      Her mother was matchmaking again. Maybe she’d drop the subject if Nicole ignored her.

      “You should plan on going. Your brothers, too. I’ll tell them as soon as they get here for dinner.”

      “It’s Pop’s birthday. You might want to wait until the celebration is over.” Nicole scratched her nose with the back of her hand. She wished her mom would quit trying to fix her up. She’d done the relationship thing, and it hadn’t worked out.

      And it wasn’t as if men didn’t ask her out. She’d simply gotten in the habit of preferring her own company to the dreaded dating scene. The nervousness of that first date. Making small talk. Shake hands or kiss at the door? Nope. Been there, done that, had the broken heart to prove it.

      She could count on one hand the men she trusted, and they were all family members. “What do you want me to do after I finish the potatoes?”

      “I want you to promise me you’ll help at the shelter this Saturday. I know you don’t have anything planned.”

      “I might. There are a lot of Christmas parties happening already.” It was only Monday afternoon. Anything could happen in four days and seven hours.

      “Pff,” her mother huffed. “You never go out on Saturday.”

      Nicole washed the diced potatoes and put them on to boil. “You never know, I might have a hot date. Besides, Peter Elliott doesn’t notice me any more now than he did in high school. So don’t try to find ways to throw us together.”

      Nicole was surprised she hadn’t mentioned Jake. He was another of her mom’s men-you-could-date-if-you-wanted-to subjects since Nicole’s breakup with Stuart two years ago.

      “But you both serve on the city council. If you’d just practice flirting a little—”

      “Mom! Really.” She bent down and hugged her five-foot-four mother. “I’m not his type. All during high school and in college, he only had eyes for Allie Carson. She was cute and dainty—something I’ll never be.

      “And don’t start with his cousin Jake. Neither of them are into someone who can look them straight in the eye, or outshoot them on the basketball court...or who walks like a heifer plodding across cotton rows.”

      Nicole’s reference to a comment made twenty-one years ago brought a frown from her mother. “You do no such thing. And that dance instructor never said that was the way you walked.”

      Nicole might have been only twelve, but she knew what she’d heard. And she’d never gone to another class.

      Her mother wasn’t one to let a subject die. “I mean, you might not have been asked to dance the lead in a ballet, but you were...very graceful on the basketball court.”

      And that was the only place she was graceful. Nicole’s size-ten feet and five-ten frame were not made for dancing, no matter what her mother wanted to believe.

      “She СКАЧАТЬ