Silence.
Marcus scanned the room. Harriet, the town’s quirky matriarch, made eye contact. She’d not yet publicly endorsed him. Lydia Park, seated next to her, and a writer for the town paper, gave him a nod. Vanessa Price, orchard owner, followed suit after a whispered word with Harriet.
No one raised a hand.
Relief settled low in his chest. One hurdle down.
“All in favor of allowing a stranger and his employer to go forward with renovations on one of the town’s most historic sites, raise your hand,” Ben said.
Six hands went up. Harriet, Lydia, Vanessa, Chase Evans, and two others Marcus didn’t know.
“Opposed?”
Three hands.
Marcus took note. He was a firm believer in keeping enemies close.
“Motion passes,” Ben muttered.
“Oh. Yay.” Frankie clapped like she’d just won a tiara.
“Thank you,” Marcus said.
“Next on the agenda: Book Club Festival,” Chase announced without looking up. “Vivian couldn’t be here, something about Braxton Hicks, but assures us her temporary replacement is more than capable.”
Lydia Park was already standing.
In five town halls, Marcus had learned Lydia treated town traditions like religion. And the Book Club Festival was the holy grail.
“Vivian handpicked her substitute,” Lydia declared. “A young woman with extensive event experience, particularly with charitable causes and high-profile gatherings.” She turned and stared at Frankie. “She’s with us this evening.”
Frankie frowned. “Are you referring to me?”
“You’re Francesca B, are you not?”
“Are you saying Vivian volunteered me to run a festival?”
“Not just some festival. The Book Club Festival. We have thirteen active clubs. It’s our most cherished event. Last year’s pop-up café was a hoot. People still talk about the Mocha Dick.”
Frankie glanced at Marcus, clearly asking, is this real life?
He shrugged.
“You had a pop-up where Mocha Dick was the headline?” Frankie said, her lips twitching.
“Explain what that is,” someone called from the back.
Lydia pursed her lips. “Honestly. It’s a mocha coffee inspired by Moby Dick. The double entendre was purely accidental.”
Marcus didn’t believe that for a second.
Frankie shook her head like she’d reached her limit. “Sounds lovely, but maybe someone more familiar with the festival should take the lead—”
“I believe Vivian left you notes in her binder,” Lydia cut in. “Why don’t you review them and give her a call?She’s the only one who can select her replacement. It’s in the bylaws.”
Frankie blinked, then turned to George. “Can you pick me up at 8:50? Apparently, I’ve got duties beyond my contract.”
George blushed and nodded.
