“I’m as much a fan of mom--and--pop operations as the next guy,” Cochran told voters during an election eve rally. “But why limit ourselves? Chain stores exist alongside small businesses in economically vibrant communities across the country. Let’s embrace the expansion that will ultimately restore our beloved village to its glory days as a Hudson River boomtown.”
A vocal proponent of the budding local tourism industry, Mayor--elect Cochran is currently in discussion with several major hotel corporations interested in developing the vacant parcel of land on Colonial Highway where Valley Cove Pleasure Park stood a century ago. He points out that the vast majority of attendees for the annual Mundy’s Landing Historical Society–sponsored Scene of the Crime Convention—-colloquially known as Mundypalooza—-are forced to find lodging elsewhere. “Let’s keep those visitors—-and their open wallets—-right here in town,” he said during the campaign, prompting Mayor Ransom to accuse him of “exploiting murder for politics and profit.”
The convention, during which crime buffs, armchair sleuths, and curiosity seekers from around the globe try their hand at solving the Sleeping Beauty murders of 1916, was perhaps the most hotly contested issue in a tension--fraught mayoral race.
Ransom has eschewed the event since its inception in 1991, while Cochran serves on the planning board for the 2016 convention, which marks the hundred--year anniversary of the crime spree and coincides with ML350, a planned celebration to commemorate the village’s 350--year--old heritage and the public opening of a time capsule buried a century ago.
Chapter 10
“I have good news and bad news,” Bob’s voice greets Rick when he picks up his cell phone on Monday afternoon. “Which do you want first?”
No brainer: “The bad.” How bad can it be compared to all that’s already happened?
“My flight was canceled. I’m stuck in New York overnight.”
“That stinks,” Rick says mildly.
“The good news is, I’m free for dinner if you are.”
His immediate instinct is to make up an excuse. He knows he said too much yesterday about Vanessa; knows Bob is concerned about him and will want to discuss it again.
No thanks. But when he opens his mouth to say he has to work late tonight, “Sure—-dinner sounds great” comes out.
“Great. Let’s go to the Blue Water Grill in Union Square. I haven’t been there in a while.”
“I don’t know, I’m not really—-”
“My treat,” Bob adds quickly.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. If I’d been around when Vanessa died, I could have, you know . . .”
“You could have sent a fruit basket and a card. You don’t have to spring for dinner at a fancy restaurant.” The quip might have worked in person, but over the phone it lands with an obnoxious thud.
I sound like an asshole, Rick thinks. Maybe I am an asshole.
“I’d have been here for you if I could have been, Rick.”
“I didn’t mean it that way. I meant . . . never mind. Vanessa always said my communication skills weren’t great.”
Her communication skills, however, were stellar. She always managed to tell him precisely what she thought of him, right to the bitter end.
Rough around the edges. That’s me.
Except with Rowan. With her, he was the man he could never be for Vanessa, even from the start. Why?
Was it because Rowan, who was down to earth, unlike his wife, didn’t intimidate him? Or simply that he loved her, and he’d never loved Vanessa?
Sometimes Rick wonders how he and Vanessa wound up together in the first place—-and how they’d managed to last as long as they did. When they met, they were both lonely. She was looking for a father for her children, and he was looking for . . .
Not passion, because he’d met plenty of women who were far less reserved and if not more attractive than Vanessa, who was truly striking, then at least more appealing to him. And he wasn’t looking for a meal ticket, though she’d accused him of that during the final days of their marriage. Not companionship, either, because Vanessa was on the verge of being too busy for him even when they met. After they met, forget it. She had no time for him.