Eleanor fixed her gaze on him. “You know, we have always expected you to follow your mother’s example and join the town council.”
“There’ll be a seat opening next spring,” she continued casually. “We’d love to have you.”
Luke looked out over the green.
Volunteers stringing lights, measuring booth spacing.
Grace would be here Saturday morning, pitching in.
She always volunteered. She helped with the messy jobs, the unglamorous ones. The ones no one photographed.
She loved this town.
“You’ve got the name,” Eleanor added gently. “The temperament. The right look.”
It always came down to optics.
Luke thought about seeing Grace in secret.
About Mercer’s comments in the squad room. The times he didn’t speak up.
He knew optics, but did he know responsibility?
“You’d be very good at it,” Eleanor said.
Luke inhaled slowly.
He could see the future they were offering.
Festival marshal today. Councilman tomorrow. Mayor someday.
Handed to him because of his last name.
Grace Hart did more for this town every year than he ever had in all his years wearing this uniform.
She organized literacy nights. Ran food drive collections. Spent weekends repainting playground benches.
She loved Crystal Lake.
And he had treated her like something that might stain him.
Luke looked back at Eleanor.
“I appreciate you thinking of me,” he said evenly. “But I don’t think I’m the right man.”
Luke might have the family legacy but it wasGracewho understood what this town needed from the inside out.
“Well. Think about it. We like our leaders rooted.”
Luke glanced toward Main Street.
He knew exactly where Grace’s classroom windows faced.
He knew exactly what time the final bell rang.
He knew exactly where he intended to be when it did.
His plans had always felt inevitable. Join the police. Sit on the town council.
