“That doesn’t tell me what you think, Frankie.”
She pinched her lips tight, still gazing out at the building her father had obviously had hopes for. “It’s not a bad idea.”
“High praise.”
Her mouth twitched. “I was just trying to remember the last time we had all the volunteers together at one time. I’m not sure it’ll be possible. How about a compromise? I can get maybe two or three groups? I’ll aim for one group, but that’s asking the impossible.”
“You’d have a better idea than I would,” Roman agreed. Compromise would be to everyone’s benefit. “Let me know when you’ve got it scheduled and we’ll go from there.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AFTER TWO CONVOLUTED meetings and several evaluations with the well-intentioned volunteers and the delightful pomp and circumstance of the Christmas tree-lighting ceremony, Roman began to feel as if he were a true citizen of Butterfly Harbor. Standing at the bottom of the stairs of city hall, Sheriff Luke Saxon on one side and the mayor’s assistant on the other, Roman felt what he could only describe as pride.
The decorating frenzy had only increased throughout the town post Thanksgiving. Wreaths were festooned everywhere. Ornaments hung from trees and in windows. Lights had been strung high and extended long enough to stretch across and down streets, ensuring Butterfly Harbor could be seen from space.
The crowd in the street and on the sidewalk tonight was significant, with at least half the town in attendance. He recognized most of the faces now and while he’d been to his share of tree-lighting ceremonies over the years, this was one of the few that hadn’t involved freezing temperatures and falling snow. Not that that had stopped some folks from bundling up in over-the-top winter jackets, scarves and hats despite the sixtyish-degree weather.
“Gil looks in his element,” Roman muttered under his breath to Luke, who had been waving to Holly out in the crowd. The mayor was glowing as brightly as the full moon hanging low over the town. The speech Gil was giving to introduce their guest “tree lighters” was tinged with the hope and camaraderie of the season.
“According to Holly, this is one of the few town traditions Gil hasn’t tried to change.” Luke pushed his hands into his jacket pockets and beamed as his stepson Simon escorted Mrs. Hastings up the stairs to the podium. “Simon’s been walking on air since he was asked to participate. Never knew anyone could practice pushing a button so much.”
The idea of bringing the older and younger generations together to officially start the Christmas season in Butterfly Harbor did seem about as perfect as it got.
Roman grinned at the sight of Holly jumping up and down, phone in hand, angling around the crowd and at her son about to take center stage. Abby and Jason Corwin, who had apparently been put on twin duty, fussed over the babies in their arms.
“Monty mentioned you like to fish.”
“I do.” Roman nodded. “You?”
“When I get a chance.” Luke joined in the applause as Mrs. Hastings took her place behind the podium and beside the oversize light switch box. “How’s Saturday for you?”
“Clear as far as I know.”
“Great. Meet us at the marina at five. I need to be back by two to watch the twins.”
“Appreciate the invite.”
“I figured you could do with some male bonding. We have a poker game every other Thursday night. My father-in-law’s taking a break since he’s getting married again and plans have ramped up, so we have an opening. If you play.”
“I play.” Given his schedule left most of his evenings free, he’d been looking for something to do other than hang out at the station with Frankie. He was having trouble reminding himself that they couldn’t be more than they were, that she was his subordinate. As Mrs. Hastings began offering a word of thanks and appreciation, Roman searched the crowd.
It didn’t take long to find Frankie, not with that hair and that face. That stunning, currently laughing face that disappeared for a second as she ducked out of sight. When she popped back up, she was holding Phoebe MacBride, who seemed determined to grab hold of the lights above her head. Frankie’s hair was down, tumbling over her shoulders in thick waves that lifted with the gentle night breeze. The way the lights caught the gold made it look like silky, liquid fire and made him itch to touch it.
There had been few times he’d let himself imagine a future with someone. The thought struck him as antithetical to everything he had planned for his life. He didn’t want, need or look for distractions, and while there had been women, he had to admit none had ever fascinated or irritated him as much as Frankie.