Always The Hero. Anna Stewart J.
look like you’re being tortured by a winged superhero. Knock it off. When are you going to stop letting numbers on a scale define you?”
Lori hesitated. When she could look in the mirror and not immediately see a fat girl. When she didn’t feel as if she was the biggest person when she walked into a room. When she didn’t hear her mother’s voice asking her “how much do you weigh now, dear?” When she could look back at a particularly nasty few weeks in high school and not feel like a complete idiot.
“It’s an automatic reaction.” Lori knew Abby was right. For the most part, she didn’t dwell on the fact she was, well, larger than most women. But then there were times—like being asked to be a bridesmaid or when a lifetime of insecurities and criticisms flooded back at her like a tidal wave—that she couldn’t withstand the pressure. “I’ll think about it,” she offered.
“Good.” Abby nodded as if it were a done deal. “And since Jason plans to ask Matt to be a groomsman, you’ve got your escort all...arranged. And what’s with that look?” Abby circled a finger in front of Lori’s face. “You got a funny expression on your face when I mentioned Matt.”
“Did I?” Lori resisted the urge to squirm. If only she could crawl under the desk with the envelopes and invites.
“You did. What’s going on? I thought you and Matt were—”
“Well, if we were, we aren’t now.” Lori hated the defensive tone in her voice, but this was yet another conversation she didn’t want to have. “I mean, yeah, we hung out for a while.” The idea was almost humiliating that at twenty-six she’d finally had her first—second if she was being honest with herself—date. But whatever she thought was going on with Matt, she’d clearly been wrong. Sometime in the last few weeks, he’d stopped returning her calls, didn’t answer her texts. If she hadn’t seen him walking or driving around town on patrol, she might have worried something had happened to him. “We’re friends. That’s all.”
Did friends miss each other the way she missed him? Obviously she’d come across as overeager, even desperate, and scared him off. Big surprise. She thought she’d done her best to keep her feelings and hopes to herself. “It doesn’t matter. Stop looking at me that way, Abby.”
“What way?”
“Oh, poor Lori. Friday Night Popcorn Queen. Scares off a man who carries a gun for a living.”
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself. I never took Matt Knight for an idiot, but I’ve been known to be wrong before. I’m sorry.”
Lori shrugged. “No big deal,” she lied. “I’m more a status quo kind of woman anyway.” If there was one thing Lori knew about it was how to be alone. Then again, she wasn’t alone. She had Winchester. Her cat.
“So we’ll make different arrangements for the wedding. Get you a different escort.”
“I don’t think—”
“You think too much.” Abby gave her hands a hard squeeze before she stood. “I know you’ll do a great job making my wedding beautiful. But I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be disappointed to not have you standing beside me when I get married.” She walked to the restaurant doors, stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Someday I hope you stop letting what other people might think matter so much. As far as I can tell, the only person judging you, the only person standing in your way, is you.”
BEFORE HE’D SIGNED on as a deputy in Butterfly Harbor, Matt could count on one hand the number of town council meetings he’d attended. Politics wasn’t his game; watching it play out in front of him like bad theater really wasn’t his game. There was, however, something to be said for small town personalities in a confined space that provided an unpredictable concoction of gossipworthy entertainment.
The makeshift City Hall—the original one had been shut down last year due to code violations—loomed over the edge of town like a ghost from the past. The old Checkerspot Pub now housed the mayor and a good portion of city staff, or so the brass plaque beside the double glass doors decreed. The weathered two-story building had always reminded Matt of an old-time saloon with its wraparound porch and second-story overhang. All that was missing were wooden swinging doors creaking in the evening breeze and the tinny sound of an untuned piano.
“Evening, Matt.” Harvey Mills, all belly and overly round eyes, headed from where he must have trekked from his hardware store on the opposite end of Monarch Lane. “Good turnout tonight?”
“Looking that way.” Matt gestured toward the door where the cacophony of voices continued to rise. He peeked inside the window. “Best grab a chair while you can.” Nerves prickled the back of his neck. He glanced at Harvey, who didn’t look any more eager than Matt to head in. “Everything okay?”
“I’m hearing rumblings our good mayor is about to pull the rug out from under us where this festival is concerned.”
Matt waited. Mrs. Ellison might have cornered the market on town gossip, but when it came to reliable information, Harvey was the go-to man. There was something about men gathering in a hardware store—which also housed the town’s post office annex—that turned the business into Butterfly Harbor’s version of a confessional. The fact Harvey had lived here his entire sixty-two years also added a layer of authenticity that kept Matt’s interest piqued. “Any rug in particular getting pulled?”
“Details, much like our mayor’s intentions, are scarce. Best be prepared for anything.”
“I usually am when it comes to Gil.” Matt took a long, deep breath. “Jasper get you that list of tools and supplies we’ll be needing to get those houses in shape?”
“Ordered and mostly received.” Harvey gave a firm nod. “Got you a good deal on some replacement windows. You’ll need to pick them up over in Durante, but they were a steal since they’ve been discontinued. Way too many empty houses around here have gone to rot. Your idea to get at least the exteriors fixed up, get those yards under control before the festival starts? It’s a no-brainer if you ask me. I’ve still got some feelers out on gardening supplies. Might have some donations coming your way.”
“Plus it makes for a nice tax write-off for you,” Matt joked.
Harvey grinned. “Not going to complain about that. Those volunteer lists you’ve got around town look to be filling up. ’Bout time we get more people involved. Make them feel more a part of things. Community center kids getting involved, too?”
“That’s the idea.” Matt would have given his right arm for a teen community center like the one Luke Saxon had opened soon after becoming sheriff. He’d wanted a place where kids could take classes, hang out, get tutoring and, most importantly, stay out of trouble. Having Luke’s predecessor—and current father-in-law—running the place made the idea something the mayor hadn’t been able to argue with. “Way things are going, the center will outgrow that building on the beach by the end of the year.” Faster if houses started selling again.
It was a problem Matt was anxious to have, which was why he was scoping out new locations for the community center every chance he got. “All that being said, it would be a great promotional push come festival time. Gil wants to get buyers in here, year-round and seasonal. If visitors see us as a tight community that takes care of our own, that can only be a positive.”
“Well said,” Harvey agreed. “I can see why Luke trusts you with this.”
No need to erode Harvey’s faith in the department by stating he was only a stand-in. This project was Luke and Fletcher’s baby. “When I was in the army, word had it I could sell sand in the desert.” A pang of grief struck low and hard at the memory of his friends who were gone now. Only two of them had made it back and he hadn’t heard from Hack in at least a year. “My platoon leader called me Superstar.”
Harvey