Willa still blamed the City Council for forcing her husband to lose his Lock and Key business with their excessive rules, taxes and endless inspections and unnecessary repairs. She particularly blamed them for the stress that precipitated his sudden heart attack. Even after eight years the sting of losing him stuck with her. After his death she had formed the Small Business Coalition to change the policies of the City Council. The council members proved to be resistant to change, so, during the last year, the coalition had refocused on replacing the mayor and the city council members in November.
The previous mayor of eighteen years, Ed Edwards, was forced into retirement after a massive stroke left him paralyzed and unable to talk. Frank Gillis, as the ranking member of the small financially elite clique in Dolphin Beach, was the heir apparent to Mayor Edwards.
The special election in late May had given Willa the opportunity to run for mayor before the regular November election and left the small ocean-side town both shocked and divided as Willa and Frank had squared off in a no-holds-barred fight for a political office that paid a whopping $600 a month.
Frank Gillis was also on hand but he wasn’t smiling. He glowered at Willa after a close and vicious race waged against her. She thought of Frank as a chiseled faced little weasel with a brush cut. He wore expensive clothes and drove a fancy car, but he would always be a weasel in Willa’s eyes.
Willa smiled and shook hands with the magistrate and Police Chief, Chuck Dolan, upon completion of her oath of office. She appreciated the beaming smile on her sister’s face and the obvious pride Elizabeth had for her. I wouldn’t have done this at all without her encouragement and support, she thought. Having a United States Senator in the family certainly has its advantages.
“You did great, sis,” Elizabeth said, giving Willa a strong hug. “This was a tough election with which to start into public service. I don’t think I could have won a first election like this.”
“Sure you could,” Willa replied. You would have done whatever you had to do to win.
“No,” Elizabeth replied. “I’m the pro here, remember? This took a huge amount of courage and tenacity to get through, let alone win. I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you, can you stay for a bit or do you have to get back to Washington?”
Elizabeth glanced at her watch. “Got a three-thirty flight out of Portland to Dulles, so I’ve got to go, but I just couldn’t miss your swearing in today.”
Of course, Willa thought. “Thank you for being here; it really meant a lot to me.”
“You bet, sweetie, see you next time.”
Willa watched as her sister left and climbed into the black town car waiting for her. She’s always so busy. No wonder she never married and had a family. No time. Her career and political power were the only things that really mattered to her. She’s a lot like dad in that respect: Votes were always more important to him than his wife and his children. I wonder if she knows how much happiness and love she sacrificed to be like him.
She also saw Frank quickly exit the small City Hall building and light up a cigarette on the front porch. Frank took a long slow drag, blew the smoke up into the air and promptly walked off. Willa sighed, knowing the fight wasn’t over, since the regular election cycle would put her up against Frank again in November, barely five months away.
Tourists were arriving already as Memorial Day approached, marking the first breath of economic life of the season for the small town. Willa and Police Chief Dolan walked out of the city office and into the Village Center, where the bulk of the businesses were located.
“As Police Chief, it’s my duty to inform you of the crimes taking place here in Dolphin Beach,” he said somberly.
Willa looked at him with surprise. “I thought we didn’t have a crime problem here,” she replied.
“Well, we do,” Chief Dolan said. “We caught a young teenage girl shoplifting in Betty’s Gift Shoppe last week. Her parents paid for the item, a ceramic Pacific White-sided Dolphin, and promised to keep a close eye on her. Mrs. Wilkins’ cat attacked her neighbor’s Chihuahua again. The vet bill came to $112, which Mrs. Wilkins paid, again. I don’t see that one going away any time soon. And last night Ken Gruber’s dog got into Miss Jenkins trash can, again. Every time her trash gets dumped over, I tell her trash day is Wednesday, so she has to put it out on Tuesday night, not Sunday night, like she has been doing for the last two years. She doesn’t remember that we changed trash day two years ago. I guess at 82 she’s entitled to a little leeway.”
“Anything else?” Willa asked.
“Nope.”
“No littering on the beach?” she asked.
“A little early for that,” he replied.
They strolled over to the fountain, the focal point of Village Center, and sat on the ledge surrounding the fountain. The ledge formed a twenty-foot-diameter circle that enclosed the spraying fountain which cascaded over rocks in the center. Mounted above the fountain was a twelve-foot, stainless steel sculpture representing a pacific white-sided dolphin, for which the small town of 1,628 people had been named. The Village Center was open only to pedestrians.
Dolphin Beach was located in a small cove forty miles south of where the Columbia River emptied into the Pacific Ocean. During tourist season the population typically swelled to 4,500, and on a good year, to 5,000. Nearly every home doubled as a Bed and Breakfast for tourists.
“Next week I’ve got the two college students we hired last year coming in to start work as deputies for the summer,” Chief Dolan said. “Joe’s a Criminal Justice student from the Oregon Coast Community College in Newport and Mack is pre-law at Lewis and Clark in Portland. They’re dependable and understand the importance of tourists.”
Willa’s mind drifted to the November election, wondering just where Chief Dolan’s loyalty would be.
“Look,” Chief Dolan said. “I know this is a bit overwhelming, and I know you’re concerned about facing Frank again in November. You’re going to do fine. Just remember, this town is all about the money it makes from tourists during the summer. We have a good turnout, our people make their money, and November won’t be a problem. You’ll be in for the next four years, I promise.”
“Yes, but Frank owns the Ocean Grand Hotel,” Willa replied. “He’s the wealthiest person in Dolphin Beach. He influences a lot of people here.” The Ocean Grand Hotel was at the north end of the main beach at the end of Oceanside Drive with 862 rooms, 556 of which had an ocean view. It was built on the rise of the hill with two stories on the high section of the hill, three stories to the main hotel, and a third two-story section of rooms lower down, in front of the main structure. Behind the Ocean Grand Hotel on the north side rose Promontory Point, a single piece of rock that jutted out into the Pacific Ocean. The top of Promontory Point was flat, came to a sharp corner over the ocean, and provided a spectacular view of not only the seaside, but Dolphin Beach as well. Promontory Point’s flat area widened considerably as it neared Highway 101 and had been turned into a parking lot, providing easy access for the tourists. For those adventurous souls, a stairway had been carved into the side of Promontory Point over a hundred years ago. The steps showed signs of wear and the pipe railing had to be repaired from time to time, but the stairway was still used almost every day by both locals and tourists, especially due to its close proximity to the Ocean Grand Hotel. For people who lived on the north end of Dolphin Beach, it was either the stone stairs or a mile and a half drive through town, up to Highway 101 and over to Promontory Point.