Page 39 of Always You (A Lilac Bay Novel)

“And that’s why it’s the perfect event to change,” I said. “We don’t rely on any outside vendors for the Fish Fry. We do the whole things ourselves, right? It’s all island volunteers. That makes it easy to move. We won’t be out any deposits.”

“That’s a good point,” David said, his eyes narrowed. Even he seemed hesitant at the idea of changing any detail of the event. “But it will be strange, don’t you think? To have the Fish Fry so late?”

“Maybe it won’t be cold enough to freeze the Girl Scout's lemonade,” Jenny muttered, and I shot her another grin. On an island this far north, the first weekend in May was certainly not safe from unpredictable weather. A few years ago the lemonade had, in fact, frozen. It had also snowed two feet the night before. We’d had a bitch of a time gathering enough dry wood for the bonfire.

“I just don’t know,” the mayor said, looking way more concerned than anyone should be about a fish fry. “What will we tell people?”

I met Jenny’s eye across the table and I could tell that she knew exactly what I was thinking. That I was so tired of this attitude I could scream out loud. Instead, I sat up straight in my chair.

“We’ll tell people that this is a once in a lifetime opportunity,” I said firmly. “We have the chance to be on TV. For Lilac Bay to be put on the map. To become well known nationally, not just in Michigan and the Midwest. This is ahugedeal. The exposure alone could bring tens of thousands of dollars to the island, even without any of the prize money.” I let my gaze slide from one face to the other, hoping they could see how serious this was. “Changing the date of the Fish Fry, for one year, should not be a big deal when we consider what is at stake here.”

“You’re right, Riley, of course,” Rose said, nodding. “We’re all just being silly and sentimental.”

“Sentimental is good,” I told her. “That’s what we’re all about on this island and the producers need to see that we care about our traditions.” I smiled. “But we also need to be flexible if we want to have the chance to show the whole country just how special those traditions are.”

Even the mayor was nodding when I finished, and I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing I had won them over. Now all we needed to do was spread the word about the change of plans. And then redouble our efforts to make this year’s Fry the best we’d ever had.

“Okay,” I said ten minutes later, once we’d crossed off the last item on our checklist—finding a decent lawyer to go over the forms. The city’s lawyer, Jeremy Hale, was eighty-two and specialized in farm law. Probably not up to the task of dealing with something like this.

“That should do it for today,” I continued. “Let’s start spreading the word about the date change and let people know we’re going to need a lot of volunteers to make this a huge success. We should meet again early this week.”

“You talk to the producers Monday?” David asked.

I nodded. “And we’ll schedule their visit then, so try to keep your schedules flexible for the next two weeks. I’m not sure if they’ll need the entire committee to be there to meet them, but we should be prepared.”

The mayor straightened his purple tie—a nice compliment to the bright turquoise sweater vest he wore over his Brooks Brothers shirt. Never let it be said that our mayor dressed down on the weekends. “I’ll let Millie know to keep my schedule open,” he said. “I’m sure they’ll be expecting the mayor to be there to greet them. And,” he smiled modestly around the table, “I do have the most on camera experience.”

I could sense five other faces struggling not to roll their eyes.

“Okay, so I’ll let you all know when the next meeting is. Thanks a lot for doing this, you guys.”

As everyone gathered up their things and said goodbye, I pulled out my phone.

There was a text there from Andrew.Hope the meeting is going well. I’m over at the cafe, so just text when you’re done. I breathed a sigh of relief that he had remembered his offer. The thought of going to that house by myself was depressing as hell.

I’m finished, I texted back.I’ll head down to the Cafe.

The Powell’s cafe was at the corner of Main and Lilac, just a few doors down from the diner. I found Rose on the sidewalk, heading that way. “Are you going to the Cafe?” I asked Rose. “I’ll walk with you.”

“That’s nice, dear.” We headed outside and both shuddered simultaneously. A cold snap had come in overnight, leaving us with gray skies and temps in the low forties. “You know,” she said, leaning into me a little for warmth, “I’ve heard tell of places where it’s actually spring this time of year.”

I laughed. “Must be nice.”

“It’s probably a good idea to move the date of the Fish Fry,” she said. “Maybe we’ll want to keep it later in the year.”

“Maybe.” But she knew as well as I did that this change would be an anomaly. Next year the Fry would go right back to the first weekend of May, where it belonged, regardless of weather.

We found Andrew lounging at one of the tables in the cafe, his laptop in front of him, his feet up on a nearby chair. He had a mostly-eaten sandwich, a full cup of coffee, and a plate of cookies on his table.

“I trust that you paid for all of that,” Rose said sternly.

He shot her a grin. “Where’s your family loyalty, Mimi? Of course I paid for it, what do you think I am?”

“I was supposed to charge you?” the waitress said, coming up behind him with a perplexed look on her face. The woman—Mary? Maggie?— was in her early twenties, and I didn’t know her well. But from the way she was looking at Andrew, I had the feeling she was hoping to know him much better.

“Of course you were supposed to charge me, Maddie,” he said easily.

“But you said you were a part owner and usually just grabbed whatever you needed from the cookie case.”