Everything melded into a congenial montage of her shaking hands and presumably saying the right things, then suddenly, she was at the podium, trying to remember her speech. Leanne took a breath, focused on Trev, and smiled. “For years, I’ve helped public figures put their best foot forward. Written their speeches and moderated social media accounts. But it occurred to me that I don’t want to do that anymore.

“I don’t want to help others polish their images. Rather, I want to make a difference. Other candidates will allege that I don’t have the political experience necessary to help the city of St. Claire, but after observing from behind the scenes, I’m certain I can address problems that have been swept under the rug for far too long.”

She went on to outline her ideas, trying to be precise and succinct. And, when she finished, Trev beamed at her and gave two thumbs-ups. Judging by the applause from those gathered, she must have come across well. Some of the tension left her shoulders. Damn. Her hands even hurt from gripping the sides of the podium. Public speaking was a lot different than simply typing out the words.

With as much dignity as she could muster, she added, “I hope I can count on your support. I’m Leanne Vanderpol-Montgomery, and I want to work for you.”

***

If Trev hadn’t already been on his feet since he didn’t want to take up valuable chair space, he still would’ve given Leanne a standing ovation.

He clapped enthusiastically, stirring the rest of her listeners to greater fervor. After the speech, interested parties became enthusiastic supporters, and they spent a good half an hour bending his wife’s ear with helpful suggestions—both about her campaign and changes she should propose if she got elected to the city council. The proposal about improving the recycling program was a good one, and it would even create some jobs, but he understood such innovations had to pass through a daunting number of approvals to become reality.

Twenty more minutes passed, and Trev settled in a back row seat with his phone, now that the crowd was thinning out. Indefatigable, Leanne kept chatting and shaking hands until the last two guests excused themselves. Only then did she make her way to the back of the room, balancing graceful as a swan in heels so high, they could stake a vampire dead.

“How was I?” she asked.

“Perfection. You slayed the hell out of that speech, and you were so charming that I feel like marrying you all over again, just because.”