‘Yes, yes,’ Celia tutted. ‘Now, I’m not going to run through the full list of events we have planned, as that would take far too long, but a draft program is available if anyone would like to see it.’ She held up a pile of paper briefly. ‘But to give you a brief idea, the opening ceremony will take place on Friday, July 19th at 10.00a.m. at the waterfront. Stallholders and food vendors will already be set up on the boardwalk, in Northspire Park and the surrounding side street loop. Over the three days there will be live music on the boardwalk and dock area, as well as live theatre performances and residents sharing their stories of life at sea and in this town. Megan and some of the high school students have been granted permission by the council to paint a mural on the side of the old Johnson building, so they will be doing that over the course of the festival.’
‘What’s the mural going to be of, exactly?’ an older lady asked. ‘That wall is right next to the town square. We don’t want to be looking at an eyesore every time we drive past, and you know what young people consider to be “art”.’
Megan stood up to answer her. ‘We’re keeping the design confidential at this stage, Betty. But don’t worry, it’s nothing too out there.’
‘The committee have already sighted and approved a draft mockup of the design,’ Celia agreed. ‘And I can promise you that it will enhance main street, not detract from it.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ Betty grumbled.
‘She’s a cheerful sort,’ Ray said, and the hypocrisy was so great I couldn’t even rustle up the words to respond to him.
‘Moving on.’ Celia consulted her clipboard. ‘There will be the children’s section again, with activities and crafts. A sunset picnic on the first night, starlight dance on the second and a closing toast on the dock at 5.00p.m., Sunday. We’ll have sunrise yoga, parades, competitions, hands-on workshops and, of course, food and drink tastings. Copies of the full program are available here but just bear in mind it’s not a finalized version yet, as we’re still waiting to hear back from a few artists and performers.’
She put the clipboard down and ran her eyes over the room. ‘To summarize, it’s all come together nicely, thanks to a huge amount of work behind the scenes by the committee. I have a proposed set-up map available for those of you who will be setting up art or food stalls, so please collect one before you leave tonight and if you have any questions or issues with your placement, flick me a message. Bear in mind, please, that I can’t put all of you around the square in the high-foot-traffic area. I have tried to be fair and alternate with those of you who were in the side street loop last year.’
‘Where were you placed last year?’ I whispered to Jack as Celia carried on talking.
‘No idea,’ he whispered back. ‘That was before my time at the restaurant, so this is all new to me.’
‘Oh right. Are you nervous?’
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘My staff have done this festival before, so I will bow to their superior wisdom and let them take the lead.’
‘Wait, they don’t actually need you at all. That’s what you’re saying?’
‘I’d like to think I can be ofsomehelp and maybe even bring something new to the table,’ he said defensively.
‘Right, but they could do it without you if they had to.’
‘They could.’
I smiled smugly. ‘Which makes you one ofthosemanagers.’
‘What managers?’
‘The ones who look good on paper and on LinkedIn and are paid the big bucks, but really, when it comes down to it, they’re pretty much surplus to requirements.’
‘Hey,’ he protested. ‘First of all,big bucksis a wild overstatement and factually incorrect. I’m not in this for the salary; I’m here to help a friend. I take a basic living wage and that’s it.’
I shrugged. ‘OK, that’s admirable I suppose.’
‘Thank you. It is. And second of all, according to you I don’t just look good on paper…’ He paused to grin at me. ‘I look good in real life too.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘You said I was buff, remember?’
‘I was in shock, remember?’
His grin turned into a pout. ‘Wait, so that’s the only reason you said it?’ He leaned his head down closer to mine and when he spoke again, I felt his breath warm on my shoulder. ‘You have no idea how many times I’ve replayed that conversation in my head over the last few days.’
I swallowed hard, on edge by how close he was. I could smell the fresh, clean smell of his hair. It reminded me of green apples. If I turned my cheek, our faces would probably touch.
‘Seriously?’
‘Of course. And now you’re telling me you didn’t actually mean it. I’m crushed.’
I turned my head, risking contact. Our faces were merely inches apart. One small lunge and my lips could be on his. His green eyes sparkled with mischief, telling me he was thinking the same thing.
