Official Town Business (Fox & Oakby Murder Mysteries Book I)

Scolding

After four days Imogen could firmly say she disliked the Americans - not all Americans of course, just these three. Everything that she'd been vaguely uncomfortable with in media, and recently, as sad as it sounded, in the behaviour of certain police sergeants - the chauvinism, the disrespect, the objectification were so prominent in the visitors that Imogen had arrived to the decisive understanding she was indeed a feminist, and a dire one for that matter.

Despite the Mayor's efforts to include her into the conversations led around the contracts - which she'd drafted with the barristers and the council - and the community outreach program - which she was primarily responsible for - the three gentlemen treated her as furniture and occasionally as a waiter. Imogen breathed through it and told herself that A. it was an important development project for the town; and B. it was beneficial to her as a person. She was gaining experience and widening her perspective. So, she smiled politely and then went home and vented to Oliver over a cuppa.

On day five one of the Americans was punched in the face in the pub - and it was during lunch! No alcohol was involved! Apparently the rules of politeness differed much on two sides of the ocean. Apologies were made, and Dr. Fenton was summoned to stitch a cheekbone.

Day six was thankfully the last day of the visit, and Imogen woke up in a jolly good mood. The prospect of saying goodbye to the men made her whistle and dance in the kitchen while making toast for the children.

"I've arranged Oliver to come over to stay with you," she said, hurriedly scraping butter on Brian's toast. "I don't know how long the reception will take. We're signing the papers after lunch, so after that I'll stop by the cottage to change, and—"

Her mobile shrilled on the counter, and she pushed the bread into Brian's hand.

"Yes?"

"Imogen, I need you in the office now." The Mayor's voice was tense, and Imogen looked at her wrist. It was still two hours before she was expected in the office.

"Mr. Oakby?"

"I apologise for disrupting your morning, but I need you." 

Imogen threw an uncertain look at the children.

"Could I bring my children, sir? My friend Oliver will pick them up on his way to work then."

She could the Mayor exhale sharply. She wondered if it was a huff of indignation, but when he spoke she realised it could've been relief or just a calming breath.

"Certainly." He paused, and then muttered, "I apologise again."

Imogen felt he was now quite excused for this odd behaviour - oh, that velvet sincere voice! - and started packing the children.

The bus ride was silent. Kathy was nervous, she'd always been apprehensive of the Mayor, although Imogen couldn't say why. Brian was too excited at the prospect of visiting Imogen's work and by the unusual morning altogether. Loudly crunching his toast and sipping tea from Imogen's thermos flask he was staring through the window and occasionally squirming on his seat.

The visitor's entrance of the Mayor's House was still locked, Mrs. Harris was due only in an hour, and Imogen stuffed the children into her office, pushed paper and pencils into their hands, and ran to the Mayor's side.

He was pacing the room, and at first Imogen thought he was on the phone. But then he turned and looked at her gravely. Imogen closed the door behind her, and that had the effect of a cork jumping out of a champagne bottle. He stepped to her and leaned in, his nose still at a considerate distance from hers - but nonetheless, much closer than normal.

"That was irresponsible!" the man hissed, and she saw the thick black eyebrows furrow. "Utterly irresponsible!" he repeated. Imogen blinked. The Mayor apparently sussed out she didn't have the foggiest what he was about and added, "I've just had a conversation with my sister, Ms. Fox!"