Back in the lobby, I saw Mrs. Gowdy holding a generous glass of mulled wine and laughing with too much enthusiasm to her cohorts while holding a mini-wiener on a toothpick and, yeesh.

“Howdy, Finley.”

I turned to find none other than Mayor Bobby Jim Slaughter waving at me.

He was wearing his best (read: only) pine-green corduroy jacket with red elbow patches, which at last year’s Christmas Eve party he told me made him seem festive and intellectual. It should be noted he told me this while he was also chewing a BBQ-meatball skewer with his mouth open, so I’m pretty sure the effect was a wash.

“Hello, Mr. Mayor,” I replied with a smile.

“Looks like your gramma’s got y’all real busy.”

“Yes, sir.” I proffered a silver plate. “Cranberry crostini?” I’d grabbed one of the “sophisticated” options.

He squinted at it longer than necessary.

“Those look crunchy.”

“They’re cranberry and ricotta cheese on tiny toasted rosemary baguettes.”

I was pretty sure his mouth watered. As warranted. They were damn tasty. But then Mayor Slaughter’s brows furrowed in concern.

“I don’t suppose you got anything softer? Gotta be careful with the newly capped tooth.” He opened his mouth and pointed. I set my gaze past him because that was a sight I did not need. “ ’An ’oo ’ell?”

“I’m sorry?”

He closed his mouth. “Can you tell which tooth got capped?”

“No, sir.”

He beamed. “Dean’s a wizard.”

I suggested, “How about I get you some Santa’s Eggs?” Which were basically green deviled eggs with red tomato specks. “They’re soft.”

“Hell yes!” He looked skyward. “Sorry, Jesus.”

He did that about three times a conversation back when I was interning at city hall. Grandma Jo once said he might as well be Catholic since he cussed and prayed for forgiveness in the same breath.

Sixty seconds later I had crossed back into the kitchen and switched platters, returning with the eggs. He put five on his plate, ate two, then filled the empty space on his plate with three more. I wondered what his cholesterol was like.

Before I could move on to other guests, though, Mayor Slaughter stopped me.

“Oh, and while I got your attention, Finley, I been meanin’ to say thank you.”

I frowned. “Thank me?”

He nodded vigorously. “For making all those changes to the town’s website.”

Oh, fuckity fuck! (Sorry, Jesus.) I had completely forgotten!

“Changes?” My voice squeaked but at least I managed to not drop the platter.

He kept nodding. Vigorously. “Yup! I saw ’em right away, and at first I wasn’t real sure whatcha were doin’.” I was sweating was what I was doing. “But then I started lookin’ at the new pictures . . .” I also wanted to curl up and die. “. . . and I thought, ‘I betcha she’s makin’ it look good for those folks at that school she’s at.’ ”