Warren settled into the chair beside her rather than behind his desk. A power move, though a subtle one. Creating intimacy. Establishing that this was a conversation between friends, not a formal meeting.
"I wanted to check in with you personally," he said. "The centennial is less than three weeks away, and I know the pressure you're under. How are you holding up?"
"I'm fine. Tired, but fine. Everything's on track."
"The security arrangements?"
"Mitch DeMario is now working with me. He's working with Chief Fielding on crowd control and access management. And Ronan Cross—the assessment consultant you recommended—has been very thorough."
Warren’s hand paused on his water glass. A tiny hesitation—the kind you’d miss if you weren’t watching for it. But Lila had spent two years watching.
"Cross. Yes. How has that been working out?"
"Well, I think. He's asked good questions. Pointed out some vulnerabilities we hadn't considered." She kept her voice neutral. "How did you know him? You said you'd worked with his firm before."
"A conference in Charleston, several years ago. Security assessment for a large donor event." Warren's smile was easy, relaxed. "His company came highly recommended. I was pleased I could make the connection for the centennial."
"We're grateful."
"Has he mentioned anything concerning? Any issues with the venues or the plans?"
The question was casual. The intention behind it was not.
"Nothing major," Lila said. "Standard security recommendations. Better lighting in some areas. More officers at certain chokepoints."
"Nothing about the town itself? The businesses, the organizations?"
She blinked, keeping her face carefully blank. "Should there be?"
"No, no." Warren waved a hand. "I'm just being thorough. You know how I am—I like to stay informed about everything that touches this community." He leaned forward slightly. "Lila, I asked you here because I wanted to talk about your future."
"My future?"
"The centennial is a massive undertaking. You've handled it beautifully—better than anyone expected. After it's over, there will be questions about what comes next for you."
"I'm happy in my current position."
"Of course you are. But there's a seat opening on the town council next spring. Evelyn Marsh is retiring. The committee has been discussing potential candidates, and your name has come up."
Lila stared at him. "Town council?"
"You know this community better than almost anyone. You're respected. Trusted." Warren's eyes were warm, grandfatherly. "Your father would be so proud of what you've accomplished. I know he would want to see you continue his legacy of service."
The mention of her father hit like a punch to the chest. She had to work to keep her expression steady.
"That's very generous, Warren. I'm honored that you thought of me."
"Think about it. There's no pressure, no deadline. But I wanted you to know that there are people in this town who see your potential." He reached over and patted her hand. "People who want to help you succeed."
His palm was warm. His grip was firm. And something about the way he held her gaze made her want to pull away.
"I'll think about it," she said. "Thank you."
"That's all I ask." He released her hand and stood, signaling that the meeting was over. "Now, I won't keep you any longer. I know you have a hundred things to do. But let's have dinner soon, shall we? After the centennial. We can celebrate your success."
"I'd like that."
She walked out of his office with a smile fixed on her face, nodded to his assistant, and took the elevator down to the lobby. She didn't let the smile drop until she was outside, standing on Main Street in the afternoon sun.
