Her smile fades a little. “You’ve made big promises in the past that you couldn’t keep. I hope this time will be different.”
“I did, and I am sorry. I always thought the measure of a male was helping those in need. It is, but not in the way I went aboutit. I was immature and could not see the nuance of the situations I put us in. I should not have done so at your expense. It made me a bad mate.”
Her expression grows wary. “I wish you listened to me when I asked you to be more considerate of my time. Ofourtime together. But I don’t think you ever understood what I meant.”
“No, I did not. I was too rigid in that belief at the time.” I exhale roughly. “That last Yule we spent together, I should have been here when you and your parents returned from the early morning rites. Even though the neighbors’ stove broke that morning, there was no need to spend hours trying to fix it. They could have called someone else or paid to have a handyman come out. But I had blinders on, that if I did not immediately drop everything to help someone who asked for it, then I was not worthy of living here.”
“Why would you think that?” she interjects, tears filling her sad violet eyes.
“It makes no sense, I know. But it was instilled in me by the clan, and I was convinced it must be true here as well,” I explain dolefully. “My priorities have been so misguided my entire life. I only feel like I have truly woken up since coming back here.”
“I know you didn’t intend to hurt me all those times, but you still did. It made me feel so insignificant that you would put the time and comfort of anyone, even acquaintances and strangers, ahead of mine. I wish—” Her voice hitches, “I wish that last Yule hadn’t been tainted by my anger at you. It made it hard to enjoy the day. Had I known it was my last one with…” her head drops. “Well, I just wish it had been different.” She swipes at the tears trailing down her cheeks.
“I am so sorry, Ada. I would go back and change everything if I could,” I murmur, my voice hoarse with emotion.
“I know,” she says wanly.
“Walt will have no problem winning a seat. I wouldn’t be surprised if he gets the most votes overall,” Ada whispers to me. I am inclined to believe it even based on our experience with the campaign posters.
“I can hear you, sweet girl,” Walt says as he nudges her shoulder with his. “Thank you for your confidence, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” She sticks her tongue out at him in response, drawing a chuckle from him.
While we stand in line at town hall with Walt and Acton to cast their ballots, Ada explains to me that it is a ranked choice vote where the ballot asks the voter to rank the seven in order of preference and the top three with the highest level of preference will win seats. I never had a chance to vote when I lived here, so it is all new to me.
Polls are open from noon until midnight on each chosen election date in Monstera Bluff to ensure that everyone has a chance to vote. Walt is among a group of seven who are vying for the three empty seats on town council. Since the town is small enough, each council member represents the entire town.
Walt and Acton are handed their ballots first. “Wish me luck!” Walt jokes with a lopsided grin before they head toward the separate voting area. When Ada receives her ballot, she follows in the same direction, and I walk outside to wait for them. We will have dinner and then go to the election night party hosted by the Twinkle Toes Dance Academy, who adore Walt, based on the dozens of campaign posters they papered on their storefront. The party starts at ten at night, so that it will still be in full swing when the election is called within an hour or so of polls closing. Most who attend will bring their own celebratorybeverages, but some drinks and snacks will be provided. Ada already dropped off a few donations to add to their offerings.
Walt is keyed up at dinner, fidgeting an uncharacteristic amount. Acton and Ada do their best to calm his nerves. “I’m not sure I can even eat,” Walt mumbles into his menu at our table at The Roaring Wood.
The hour is much later than any of us usually have dinner, but the place is quite busy tonight. The election seems to have kept many out later than usual. Some acquaintances stop by our table to wish Walt luck. He smiles and thanks them, exchanging a few words with everyone, but his body language betrays his nerves.
“We’ll have confirmation of your win in just a few hours, Walt. It’ll be here before you know it, I promise,” Ada tries to soothe him.
“A healthy dose of nerves shows how strong your heart beats for this community, Walt. Now you must trust you have a place in their heart as well. They won’t disappoint you,” Acton intones in his soft-spoken voice.
Walt picks at his dinner, but the rest of us partake in the restaurant’s delicious food. Even Ada, who still has not been eating as much as I would like, finishes more than half of her salmon in a creamy sundried tomato sauce. Acton easily finishes his salad of flowers drizzled with sycamore syrup and sprinkled with bright shards of candied goldenrod pollen.
“You are an hour closer to learning that you have won a seat,” I tell Walt, trying to sound upbeat as we leave the restaurant to go to the Twinkle Toes Dance Academy for the party.
“It can’t come soon enough,” he bellows melodramatically, though he winks at me light-heartedly afterward.
Ada laughs merrily at his exaggerated outburst. “The time will fly once everyone starts talking your ear off!”
A sizeable crowd greets Walt as we arrive in the large practice room, spacious enough to hold an event this size. The atmosphere is energetic. Friends and neighbors socialize in clustered groups, with animated and lively conversations happening all around us. Some young students from the academy perform their routines as entertainment. A few couples even engage in an impromptu ballroom dancing lesson, twirling around the room just for the fun of it.
Many of his old friends and coworkers are there. With Walt’s job as the head of the parks department and Acton’s popular landscape design business, which he has slowed down since Walt’s retirement, they are well known and liked around town.
A young troll, tall and bulky with long dark green hair, reservedly says hello to us in a low but quiet voice. “Wyck Pyewacket! I’m happy as a clam that you’re here! It’s been too long,” Ada greets him enthusiastically. He smiles bashfully in return.
“Good evening, young man. I heard you improved the software that’s tallying the votes,” Walt notes sounding impressed.
“Well, it wasn’t so difficult. Just a few tweaks to make inputting the data quicker. The calculation itself was already pretty fast,” he stammers, trying to downplay the praise.
“Both of you need to getonyour high horse. You are both far too humble.” She laughs at the two males.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Wyck demurs, a blush darkening his cheeks.
Ada playfully shakes his outsized shoulder. “See what I mean?” she remarks.
