Always The Hero

“Move on as friends.” Definitely not the direction he needed to go.

She glanced away and nodded, but not before he saw a flash of disappointment in her eyes. A flash that gave him the thinnest thread of hope to cling to. “I think we’d better get inside, don’t you? Sounds like there’s a lot on the agenda and I need to take notes for Abby in case anything’s been changed.”

“Yeah, sure. Of course.” This time when he pulled open the door, she gave him another smile and stepped in ahead of him, only to skid to a halt. “What’s wrong?”

So much for thinking a lot of residents were avoiding the meeting. Matt hadn’t seen a turnout of Butterfly Harbor folks this large since the food festival last spring. He saw plenty of familiar faces—most of the members of the Cocoon Club, an expanding group of the more senior members of town—but also people he couldn’t put names to. He recognized homes and buildings more than he did people.

Empty chairs were few and a number of attendees milled about the long counter along the west side of the room. Others grabbed coffee, water or a soft drink from the other side of the bar, grabbed cookies from the plastic silver trays someone had brought.

“Are you okay?” He couldn’t help but notice Lori seemed caught between paralyzing nerves and shock.

“I’m fine.” Lori tugged at the sides of the short sweater she wore, pulling it tighter across her chest. “Just more people than I expected.”

Matt spotted two chairs in the front. “How about up there?”

She shook her head, her gaze skittering around the room until she let out an audible sigh of relief. “There’s Calliope. Over there by the window. I’ll just join her.”

“Sure. Yeah.” Frustration crashed through him. He’d really blown it. He should have been honest with her from the start, but he hadn’t been able to find the right words to say he needed to slow things down so he could decide what to do about his divorce papers. Telling her, not telling her—neither was honorable, but he’d chosen to keep quiet to protect her. Instead, he’d hurt her. Far more than the truth ever would have.

* * *

“HEY, CALLIOPE.” Lori slipped onto the metal folding chair beside the closest person Butterfly Harbor had to a spiritual guru. Thankfully the row of chairs against the wall was far enough away from the main throng she could melt into the scenery.

“Lori.” Calliope turned a friendly smile on her. The light dusting of freckles across her nose reminded Lori of a doll she had as a child. The beads and tiny bells laced through Calliope’s waist-length red hair tinkled above the din of the crowd and managed to soothe Lori’s frazzled nerves. “How are those hollyhock seedlings I gave you working out?”

“Beautifully.” Lori rested her notebook on her legs and locked her ankles together. “I don’t know what you do to plants, Calliope, but I’m grateful for your touch. I should have fully grown plants back to you in a few weeks.”

“Lovely. Just in time for the fall harvest.” Calliope tapped a long finger against Lori’s arm. “It’s been a relief to have someone willing to take over the less edible offerings my customers enjoy. And I think it’s you who has the magic touch. Something tells me those flowers will be splayed across Butterfly Harbor sooner than later.”

Lori smiled. While she loved her job at the inn—most days—her real love was horticulture, especially when it came to nurturing seedlings into fruition. Plants didn’t judge, they didn’t speak, they either grew or they didn’t. Now that Duskywing Farm had become quite the tourist attraction, partly because Chef Jason Corwin had talked up the organic farm in a number of his interviews, Calliope had to expand both her crops and her business plans. The weekend farmers’ market and open field policy—it wasn’t every town that had its own “pick your own food” option—was something everyone agreed to promote. That Calliope had asked Lori to oversee the plants and flowers she sold felt like an honor.

“How are you set for poinsettias?” Lori asked.

Calliope’s eyebrows shot up. “What a coincidence. I completely overordered last year and they’re outgrowing their space. Care to come take some cuttings?”

Lori didn’t believe for a second the excessive order was coincidence. Calliope had always possessed a special “sense” when it came to the needs of Butterfly Harbor residents. “I can’t say why, but yes. We’re going to be needing quite a few this holiday season. For the inn,” she added, for fear of ruining Abby and Jason’s surprise.

Calliope turned her attention back to the town council moving toward the makeshift stage. “I look forward to Abby and Jason’s official announcement.”

Lori’s chuckle was cut off by Matt taking a seat beside her. “Don’t mean to interrupt.” His Louisiana accent drifted over her like warm honey out of Calliope’s hives. He shifted and straightened his jacket as Lori crossed her arms over her chest. “Not a lot of seating choices.”

Obviously. What Lori wouldn’t do to be able to control the flush of heat to her cheeks. She avoided Calliope’s knowing glance as she tried to focus on the board members moving onto the stage at the front of the room. She’d felt accomplished when she’d managed to hold a somewhat normal conversation with Matt outside. It wasn’t easy talking to a man who had gone out of his way to avoid her for the last few weeks.

Hopefully, whatever come-hither vibes she’d been transmitting a few weeks ago had gone dormant. She certainly didn’t want to push herself on someone who clearly wasn’t interested, or worse, thought her pathetic and only talked to her out of pity. Nor did she want Matt thinking she’d locked herself away and was pining over him when it was clear he didn’t want to be anything more than friends.

She squeezed her arms tighter against her body, wishing not for the first time that the action would make her shrink.

Matt Knight was the type of man who conjured images of late-night beach fires and hands entwined beneath the stars. She could almost smell the flame-kissed pyre, feel the crackling sparks. Not so long ago he’d worn his dark hair shaggy, a bit unkempt, which accentuated the beard he’d had since he’d first moved to town. The beard was gone now; his hair tamed. Gold-flecked espresso brown eyes that glinted in the light shouldn’t have any effect on her, but they did. As tempting as he was to lean into, to give in to, Lori stopped herself. She was doing just fine on her own. She didn’t need a relationship or a boyfriend to complete her. She didn’t need a man to make her life meaningful.

But that didn’t change how she felt about him. She liked him.

A lot.

As if feelings like that had ever led her anywhere good. Good heavens, what was the matter with her?

“Is it me, or does the council look as surprised at the turnout as we were?” Matt motioned to the group that included town veterinarian, Dr. Selina Collins; accountant, Kurt Murphy; and Cocoon Club members Oscar Bedemeyer and Delilah Scoda. Lori returned Delilah’s enthusiastic wave with a shy smile. The former hairdresser had “dated” Lori’s late grandfather years before and earned a place in Lori’s pantheon of friends.

Lori made an “uh-huh” response as she caught the lightning flash movement of BethAnn Bottomley taking a seat in the front row. Perched on the edge of her chair, BethAnn craned her neck and scanned the crowd. Her surprised gaze landed on Lori. She opened her red-painted mouth in silent question. She probably assumed Lori had chained herself in her house until she finished with those stupid invitations.

As if she’d even started them yet.

Gil Hamilton, only five years Lori’s senior, strode onto the stage, his khaki slacks and button-down white shirt looking more catalog chic than small town mayor. Thick, beachy-blond hair swept over sharp, hawk-like green eyes. He took his place behind the tabletop podium and banged the gavel every Butterfly Harbor mayor had wielded for the past half century.

In an almost-Pavlovian response, Lori reached into her purse for a pen and opened up her notebook as the room fell silent.

Matt’s arm brushed against hers as he shifted in his chair. He stretched out his leg with a wince. Lori bit the inside of her cheek. Matt was never one to complain, not even when it was obvious his leg was giving him problems.

“Did you call your doctor about that new prosthesis they want to fit you with yet?”

He looked startled at her question. Maybe he was shocked she’d remembered their conversation about his leg more than a month ago. “Not yet, no.” He turned a tense jaw toward her and focused on the mayor. “Haven’t had time.”

She should have kept her mouth shut. It always confused her how he seemed perfectly fine with the fact he’d lost his leg in the war; there wasn’t a self-conscious inch of him. But when it came to his treatment or discussing advancements in lost limbs, he shut down faster than... Lori smirked. He shut down faster than Lori did when she was asked to be a bridesmaid.

“Calling this meeting to order.” Gil banged his gavel again and reminded Lori of when he’d been senior class president. The Hamiltons were as close as Butterfly Harbor got to royalty. Fourth-generation ruling class, his great-great-great-grandfather—or was it only two greats, Lori could never remember—was one of their founding fathers, had been chosen to govern. How her grandfather had gone on about the Hamiltons and rarely in a good way. Something Lori was certain Gil was more than aware of.

The rules of order were recited, the board members called attendance, the minutes approved. Lori struggled against the pull of boredom and swirled her pen over the paper, letting her imagination take hold.

There were times over the years she’d felt sorry for Gil, like when his father died. But those times were easily overshadowed whenever Gil declared a bit too vociferously that he had the town’s best interests at heart. If ever there was a flashing red warning sign...

Then again, Gil couldn’t do any more harm to Butterfly Harbor than his own father had. The previous mayor had nearly bankrupted the town, certainly sent the family banking business into a tailspin, and as a result, a mass exodus had ensued. The decreased population had put everyone’s lives on hold as they hoped and prayed things would right themselves once more.

Which was why this year’s Monarch Festival was so important. With stability came pride and there was nothing her fellow townspeople liked more than showing off their beloved home. Especially before the start of the monarch migration season.

“I swear, if they verbally itemize the budget report...” Matt mumbled.

Lori refused to laugh, but inside, she grinned. She knew Matt well enough to know attending an event like this was tantamount to torture. “I thought Luke usually came to these things.”

“He’s on a field trip with Simon.” Matt’s response earned an irritated look from a flannel-clad Cyril Walters across the aisle. “He’s taken being a stepfather very seriously. You here for Abby?”

“She had a dinner meeting with Jason.” Before Cyril could glare at her, she threw the middle-aged crank a smile and ducked her head. “Sorry you got stuck.”

“I’m not.” Matt shook his head, his gaze falling to the notebook she scribbled in. “I got to see you.”

Lori’s pen froze in midstroke. She jumped when Gil banged the gavel again. “Someone needs to disarm him.”

“Overcompensation comes in many forms,” Calliope said. “He’s stressed. I can see it coming off of him in waves.” She shivered as if those waves crested over her head.

At Cyril’s “shhhhhh” the three of them fell silent.

“I’d like to make one announcement we’ve been anxious to share.” Gil’s theatrical voice echoed in the room. “The board has finally approved an architect to design the new butterfly sanctuary. Xander Costas of Costas Architecture out of Chicago will be arriving in the next few weeks to get things underway. He’ll be touring the town, talking with folks in an effort to give us the perfect design. Keep in mind, we’ll be looking for a community liaison to work with him and ensure the design he comes up with reflects who we are.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Lori caught Calliope’s hand tighten into a fist.

“At least they moved the proposed site,” Lori whispered. The original location had been less than a half a mile from Calliope’s farm, which hadn’t sat well with most people, Calliope in particular. Rumor had it Lori’s brother, Fletcher, was instrumental in ensuring the new project would be built on the secondary location, halfway between the farm and the decrepit old Admiral’s Lighthouse on the edge of town.

“I see dark clouds approaching,” Calliope murmured with that familiar dazed look in her eyes. “Dark, dangerous clouds.”

Lori pursed her lips, looked back at her notebook. The idea of the butterfly sanctuary being anything close to ominous seemed a far stretch even for Calliope’s eccentric tendencies.

As the meeting dragged on, Lori scribbled meaningless 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 this right, this could become a way of life here. If we want to build up our community we need to start with our community.”

BethAnn opened her mouth, but was stopped by the enthusiastic applause and shouts of approval echoing in the room.

“I’m sorry. Forgive me, as we don’t know each other.” BethAnn raised her voice and peered down her upturned nose. “What is your name again, Deputy...?”

“Knight. Deputy Matt Knight, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Lori snorted behind her hand.

Matt flicked a quick look at her. His lips curved.

Lori’s cheeks warmed.

“I wonder if you could answer a question for me, Deputy Knight, since the board needs to determine where best to spend our...its money,” BethAnn said. “As I recall, when Jake Campbell was sheriff, his deputies were spread pretty thin. Are you stating that’s no longer the case despite the rise in criminal activity since his retirement?”

Lori closed her eyes shut and shook her head. Oh boy. Here we go.

“I don’t think that’s a topic we need to get into—” Gil practically dive-bombed the podium.

“Beg your pardon, BethAnn.” Jake Campbell, the town’s previous sheriff, stood up from the middle of the seated crowd and leaned heavily on the cane that had helped him walk for the last fifteen years. “Seeing as you haven’t lived here in a while you might want to check your facts on how my term ended and the current statistics.”

The room went dead silent. Lori’s ears pounded as she looked around the crowd. Jake Campbell was beloved in Butterfly Harbor. His dismissal from his job was still a source of controversy for some despite their acceptance of Luke Saxon as his replacement.

“If you’re attempting to imply that the crime issues we’ve been experiencing are directly related to a change in oversight,” Jake said, “I’d like to point out the new sheriff is my son-in-law and he has had my support from day one. I was, in fact, the one who recommended him for the job. I can assure you the safety of this town has been his foremost concern since he pinned on his badge. Have there been issues? Yes. Will there continue to be issues? Yes. But we also see this project as a way to stave off these issues and, if we’re lucky, eliminate them altogether. They’re a capable, smart team of deputies. They can make this work. All they need is this town’s support.”

Matt shifted on his feet, as if suddenly uncomfortable.

Lori reached up, touched her fingers to his arm and felt him jump. He glanced at her before returning his attention to the dais.

“We understand the undertaking, Mrs. Bottomley,” Matt said. “And I can assure you we will not be shirking our responsibilities. This project is simply an extension of our current positions.”

BethAnn gave him a smile that might have frozen a fresh-caught fish solid. “That might address any issues we have with the home repairs and refacings. I see where you have some construction experience from your time in the armed forces, but nowhere on your proposal do you list a landscaping expert. As much as we’d love to contribute town funds to the project, I’m certain I speak for the rest of the board and the mayor in saying we don’t like the idea of a short-term solution. We want this done right from the start. We don’t want to be replacing and redoing areas ad nauseum. Which to me means bringing in an actual expert.”