Angel Lane by Sheila Roberts Page A

the
Heart Lake Herald,
who had done their story. Yay! Movers and shakers. And now here came . . .
    â€œOh, lucky us,” said Sarah next to her. “It’s the mighty Quinn. She looks happy.”
    Mayor Melanie Quinn was dressed to the nines as always in a gray suit accessorized with a string of pink pearls. Her highlighted blond hair was freshly styled and her face was perfectly madeup. And her smile was totally phony. Her eyes looked like blue ice as she walked toward them.
    â€œWhat’s she pissed about?” Jamie wondered.
    â€œYou can’t guess?” Sarah said in an undertone voice. “This wasn’t her idea. She can’t take credit for it. Melanie,” she greeted the mayor. “This is an honor.”
    Melanie Quinn was a good enough politician to ignore Sarah’s sarcastic tone. “I’m glad to be here. Anything that involves Heart Lake involves me,” she added sweetly.
    â€œHow lucky for us.”
    Sarah and the mayor had known each other for thirty years, but this was no time for old rivalries. “It’s great to have your blessing,” Emma gushed, trying to make up for Sarah’s unusual lack of manners.
    â€œI just wish someone would have come to me with this idea,” said Mayor Quinn, still smiling. Her eyes narrowed. “Maybe I could have helped ensure a bigger turnout.”
    â€œHeaven knows you’re good at manipulating numbers,” said Sarah. “How many recounts did we have to have last election?”
    â€œUm, how about a cookie,” said Emma, grabbing the platter. “Fresh from the bakery.”
    The mayor came as close to sneering as a public official who sensed the approach of the media could possibly come. “I’ll pass. After a certain age most of us have to watch our waistline.”
    Now Sarah’s eyes narrowed.
    â€œMayor Quinn,” said Lezlie the reporter, pulling out her trusty camera. “How about a picture for the paper?”
    â€œOf course,” said the mayor, slipping an arm around Sarah and Emma, and pulling Jamie in, too. “Sarah, you just get curvier all the time.”
    â€œStill jealous?” Sarah shot back.
    Mayor Quinn unhooked herself from them the moment the picture was snapped, saying, “If you ladies will excuse me, I need to speak with Kevin.”
    â€œThat woman,” Sarah growled as the mayor hurried across the room to network.
    â€œNice shindig,” said a voice at her elbow.
    Emma took in the short man wearing black slacks and a shirt that looked like a leftover from one of the
Pirates of the Caribbean
movies. The shirt was open to show off a chest bristling with gray hairs. To top off the ensemble, he had a gold chain dangling around his neck.
    He was checking out Sarah the way Kizzy’s husband had looked at the ginger cookies. She did look cute in her jeans and V-necked black sweater. The V-neck stuff had become standardsince Sarah heard the lines were better for middle-aged women, although Emma suspected the newcomer wasn’t so much admiring the flattering neckline on her sweater as he was the highlighted cleavage.
    Sarah took the plate of cookies from Emma. “Cookie, Leo?”
    â€œI love sweet things,” he said with a smile that made Emma think of the big, bad wolf.
    â€œWe should start,” said Sarah briskly. “Excuse me.” She moved up to the podium on the little stage. “If we could get you all to sit down,” she called, “we’ll begin our meeting.”
    Everyone obediently found a seat among the folding chairs Sam had set up—a few bodies adrift in a sea of chairs. It was a pretty unimpressive beginning, to say the least.
    â€œThanks for coming,” Sarah said once everyone was settled. “We know you’re all busy and we really appreciate you taking time to come out for this meeting tonight. I promise we’ll make it brief.”
    â€œDon’t hurry on our