Page 38 of Always You (A Lilac Bay Novel)

CHAPTER 7

Two hours after the first meeting of the welcome committee began, the seven of us still sat in the diner, staring at the piles of paper scattered across the table.

“Maybe we could move the flower festival up?” Donovan suggested.

“We can’t do that,” Libby said, sounding horrified.

“Why?”

“Because we need flowers for the flower festival,” Rose Powell explained, her voice patient.

“We can’t have flowers in May?”

Rose closed her eyes and I had a feeling her patience was close to running out.

“We won’t have enough that early in the year,” I explained to him. “The flower festival is scheduled based on when we’re likely to have the largest quantities of blooms on the island.”

He scratched his nose. “And we can’t just ship some in from down state?”

Rose’s eyes popped open, her face livid. I reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, hoping to calm her. “The flower festival is important to a lot of people on this island, Donovan,” I explained as calmly as I could. Both Libby and Rose looked like they wanted to strangle him. “Because it featuresourflowers. Bringing in flowers from downstate would defeat the purpose.”

“Next thing you know he’ll be suggesting we just use fake flowers for the Lilac Festival,” Libby muttered.

“So we’re back to the drawing board,” David said, shooting Donovan a commiserating glance. David, of course, would never be so stupid as to suggest using non-island flowers for the festival in front of Rose Powell, of all people. But he, like the rest of us, was clearly nearing the end of his attention span. After flying through the producers' questionnaires and easily assigning the first few tasks, we’d hit a speed bump half an hour ago, and had yet to come to any kind of consensus. At least Donovan was trying—even if it was one of the dumber ideas I’d heard.

“Okay, guys,” Libby said, rubbing her eyes. “This can’t be that difficult. We need to come up with an event. We hold events all year long! It’s what we do here.”

Libby had a point. Lilac Bay was notorious for our island celebrations. From the Fish Fry to the Flower Festival to the talent show to the kayak races—my mother had always called it ridiculous, a waste of money, and I couldn’t help but agree with her to an extent. I mean, the events were nice and all, but did there really have to be so many of them? From May to January it seemed like there was some kind of event scheduled every single weekend. And maybe that was the problem. With so many events already on the schedule, coming up with a brand new one for the producers to come out and tape seemed impossible.

“Maybe Donovan had the right idea,” Jenny said quietly, her thoughtful gaze on the window.

“We are not bringing in flowers from downstate,” Rose snapped, but Jenny shook her head, bringing her attention back to the table.

“Not the flower festival,” she said. “But maybe we should reschedule something, instead of coming up with a brand new event for them to film.” She reached for my calendar. “They said it would be sometime this week in May, right?” she asked, pointing. “Before Memorial Day?”

“That’s right.” I rubbed my forehead. I had slept badly the night before, dreaming about my mother, and the length and frustration of this meeting wasn’t helping. Plus there was the fact that I was supposed to be heading over there as soon as we were done here.

“Well, why don’t we move the Fish Fry back?” she said, pointing at the little square for next Friday’s event. “It’s only two weeks, and it doesn’t effect any of the other events on the schedule.”

“Move the Fish Fry back?” Libby asked, as if the very thought was impossible.

“Yes,” Jenny said. “It makes the most sense, doesn’t it?”

“But—but—” The mayor shook his head. “Jenny, we always hold the Fish Fry the first Friday in May.”

“Always,” Rose agreed. “For decades.”

Jenny shrugged. “Well, maybe it’s time for a change.”

The others looked slightly horrified, but I grinned at her. This was exactly what we needed—someone on the committee who wasn’t so terrified of shaking things up a little.

“I think that might be perfect, Jenny,” I said.

“But—” the mayor shook his head. “It’s already all planned. You’ve been working on the Fish Fry for weeks.”

Weeks longer than anyone ever needed to put into a stupid picnic, I thought to myself.

“Everyone is planning for this, Riley,” he continued. “The whole town is involved.”