The special election for mayor is over, and the staff at City Hall has completed counting the ballots.
Wanda has been declared the winner, 3456 to 1525, a 2-to-1 win.
In what was possibly the kindest gesture in the world, the bailiff, Terico, called the Riverside to let me know the results. I’m guessing Bitsy gave him my number. But in any event, that’s how I heard.
Soon after, the stools began to fill. On one of them right now sits the new mayor of Middle Valley: Wanda Moreno.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I shout, ringing the bell loudly. “I now have the privilege of introducing Middle Valley’s new mayor, all the way from McMaster Street and River Road, just four blocks down, sitting here right in front of me … please meet Wanda Moreno!”
Everyone cheers, even Dustin McKinnon, a lifelong “R” and the world’s biggest NIMBY whiner. I know damn well he didn’t vote for her, but hey, at least everyone’s coming together.
“Congratulations, Mrs Mayor!” I continue. “Please, come up here to the bar so everyone can see you!”
A rendition of “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” breaks out, only they are substituting the ‘he’ with ‘she’.
Wanda can only shout.
“I am delighted to be elected to the office of the mayor of Middle Valley!” she says, gesturing her arms with a flourish. Her red flamenco-styled blouse flows around her like El Capote, the capes used in bullfights.
“I want to thank everyone who helped us, most especially Bitsy, my campaign manager, without whom this would not have happened, and Shirley, for a fair and honest campaign. I assure you that I will hit the ground running tomorrow morning to begin making everything happen as we promised.”
As if on cue, I notice Shirley roaming the tables at the Riverside, making the rounds, mixing and mingling, and handing out business cards. Seems no one is a loser here today. She’s planted her own flag, maybe separate from her father’s (finally). She is and will remain a player, of this I have no doubt.
“Darling,” I hear from my right side, a voice all too familiar.
“Yes Bitsy. What can I get you?”
“Another round, for me and my cohorts here, and don’t forget Shirley. She ran a fabulous campaign.”
I oblige. Another gin and tonic after this, though, and I worry she’s tripping down the street. I dial the Golden Pillar, where I know Miller will answer the phone.
“Golden Pillar concierge. May I help you?”
“Miller, hi, it’s Cassie at the Riverside?”
“Oh yes, Cassie. What a fine evening you all must be having, what with the win and everything today!”
“Yes, we are, but I think Bitsy may be having a little too fine an evening. Any chance you could send a car, or pick her up yourself? I worry she isn’t going to make it down the block.”
“Of course, of course, I’ll see to it myself. Will be down in two shakes. Bye for now.”
“Thanks, Miller.”
And with that, I figure, the rest of them can fend for themselves.