Always The Hero. Anna Stewart J.
notes. The sound of Gil’s voice became a distant hum. She found herself sketching the exterior of the inn, filling in the seasonal garden roundabout with poinsettias and twinkle lights, making notes as she went. An arbor would be nice, maybe with hanging votive candles... She made a note to ask Abby if she was planning a nighttime wedding, which would be something completely different. Would people want to spend their Christmas Eve at a wedding, though? Hmmm...
Brainstorming Christmas ideas and words, crossing out what didn’t feel like “Abby.” The page filled up as her imagination took hold. It wasn’t until Matt reached over and covered her hand to pull it away that she blinked back to the present.
“What?” Had she missed something?
“That’s beautiful.” He kept his voice low, but his warm breath brushed against the side of her face. She tightened her fingers around her pen, resisting the urge to look into the blue eyes that not so long ago she’d considered drowning in. “You worked a lot on the landscaping upgrades at the inn, didn’t you?”
Lori nodded. “Abby doesn’t know a daisy from a carnation. She lets me play.”
“You play well.”
She glanced at him long enough to see his brows knit. Was that confusion? Surprise? Disapproval? Just what was going on with him anyway? A few weeks ago, he’d slammed the dating door in her face. Tonight, was he attempting to open it again?
Hope—as unwanted as it was—pounded unevenly against her ribs while fear of being hurt again quickly steamrolled over it.
“Which brings us to the Monarch Festival committee proposals.” Gil reached for a bottle of water and drank. “I’m happy to say the board has agreed to approve most of them. But before we get into all that, there’s one topic I need to address.” He cleared his throat. “With all I have going on at the mayor’s office, it’s been brought to my attention that I won’t have as much time to dedicate to overseeing every committee’s actions.”
“What a shame,” Matt said.
Lori clicked her pen shut. Abby had been right. One curveball coming their way. “Wait for it.” Lori sat up straight and braced herself.
“Wait for what?” Matt asked.
“As most of you know, town board member Bobby Singer has submitted his resignation,” Gil said. “As it’s within the authority of the remaining members to elect a substitute to serve the remainder of his term, I’d like to welcome BethAnn Bottomley to the board. BethAnn has also generously offered to oversee all of the community project committees and she’ll be acting as my personal go-between to make certain we’re putting our focus and finances in the right places. BethAnn?”
“That.” Lori deflated as she joined in the muted applause. No wonder BethAnn had been so anxious to offload those invitations on her. She was clearing her own schedule so she could shine and claim as much credit for the festival as possible. Not that Lori cared about credit. But she didn’t like the idea BethAnn would steal other people’s accolades.
BethAnn hopped out of her chair and practically two-stepped her way onto the stage where she swooped in front of the mayor to stand at the podium.
“Thank you, Mayor Hamilton,” BethAnn said. “And thank you, all of you, for welcoming me so warmly. It’s so nice being back in the town I called home once upon a time.”
“Tell me again who this is?” Matt leaned over and whispered.
“Trouble with a capital T.” Lori could feel the plans already made for the festival decidedly tip. She noticed the other board members casting uneasy looks at one another, while Delilah, board secretary, tapped restless manicured nails on the table beside her laptop.
“Looks like the town council is about ready to bolt,” Matt said. “Harvey was right. I sense fireworks.” He sat forward in his chair, hands clasped with an expression of near giddiness on his face.
“First,” BethAnn said, “I want to thank everyone who has stepped up to volunteer to make this year’s Monarch Festival the absolute best yet. You all have had some fabulous ideas and I look forward to implementing them all with you.”
Murmurs of grudging agreement rumbled through the hall.
“I also want to say that while the proposals we’ve received at the mayor’s office are all excellent ideas,” BethAnn continued, “we’ve had to take a hard look at finances and time frames, especially in regards to the sheriff’s department’s beautification proposal.”
Lori glanced at Matt in time to see his right eye twitch.
“As many of you know, the sheriff’s department—”
“Has already procured most of the supplies and donations we need to complete the project on time.” Matt got to his feet. “We are ready to move full steam ahead as soon as we have a completed list of weekend volunteers.”
The room, as a whole, turned in their chairs. Lori swallowed hard as dozens of eyes landed on her before shifting to Matt. She clenched her fists, determined not to sink in her seat.
“I think we can all agree how important it is that Butterfly Harbor look its best for all the visitors we’re expecting in a few weeks,” Matt continued as if he’d prepared a speech ahead of time. “The three areas in question are all very visible cul-de-sacs, homes and yards everyone who drives in will see. As they look now, people are going to wonder if they’re in the right place. Not only are they eyesores, they’re also a testament to this town’s past economic problems.” Matt shifted his gaze to Gil. “Something I’m certain we don’t want to advertise.”
Lori’s eyes went wide. Did he really just call Gil out on his father’s illegal banking practices in front of the whole town? She covered her mouth with her hand.
Gil shouldered himself in front of BethAnn.
“Deputy Knight, I’m not sure this is the right time—” Gil attempted to cut through the murmurings rippling through the crowd.
“I am,” Matt said. “While I applaud all the events and plans this festival will include, surely everyone in this room can agree we need to put some attention to long-term goals. What we are proposing takes more man—and woman—power than money. But the payoff in the long run could be beneficial to every resident. While we want visitors to enjoy everything we have to offer, we also are hoping to entice some of them to stay.”
More than just murmurs of support rose from the crowd. Some began to cheer. Gil’s jaw pulsed. “I can see the need for more discussion is in order as far as this project is concerned.”
“No, it’s not!” Harvey Mills shouted from the back of the room. “I’ve already received most of the supplies needed to complete the project, a lot of which was donated by businesses outside of Butterfly Harbor in exchange for advertising. Are you suggesting we let those supplies just sit in my storeroom and collect dust?”
“Of course I’m not,” Gil said as he banged his gavel to call for silence. “It was agreed on by the board—”
“Not unanimously,” Delilah interrupted. “I’m in complete agreement with Deputy Knight. This is a project that needs to happen. What good is some fancy dinner spotlighting our main thoroughfare if the houses nearby look like bombed-out shacks?”
More nods of assent, more cheers and applause.
“I’m not trying to be difficult,” Matt said when the voices calmed. “And I’m not trying to be disrespectful. But I think Mrs. Scoda raises a valid point. We need all of Butterfly Harbor to shine, not just the areas we guide people to. We have more than a dozen volunteers ready to spend the next few weekends hard at work. I, along with some of the other deputies, will be spending our off time on the properties. This isn’t something we plan to do piecemeal or only when it suits us. And this is just the beginning. There are a lot of other homes that need attention but their owners simply don’t have the means to improve the curb appeal. If we do