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“Yeah, but what if I overlooked something or made a stupid mistake on that proposal for the street beautification? You know I don’t normally do that kind of thing. I’m the muscle, not the—”
“Don’t you dare say you’re not the brains in this operation,” I said, giving him a little shove as we reached our chairs. “You have a ton of experience, and your insights are valuable.”
He grimaced. “I guess. I didn’t take classes like you though.”
“I did that to catch up with you, not to surpass you,” I said. “You had years of knowledge before I ever started working on the crew.”
Wes gave me a surprised look, but before he could comment, there was a tap on my shoulder and a testy voice in my ear. “Beckett Monroe, you’re a hard man to track down!”
I turned to see Iola hovering behind my seat, mouth downturned into a little pout.
“Am I?”
“Yes,” Iola said, sounding put out. “I left you two voicemails inquiring about your date with Anna. Matchmaking Mamas is a full-service matchmaker. We don’t just wash our hands of you once a date is made, we help you through the whole process!”
“That’s great, Iola, but…” Her eyes were so big and expectant, I didn’t know how to tell her I didn’t want her services. I cleared my throat. “I just don’t check my messages. I’m used to texting. Sorry.”
She threw her arms up. “Young people!”
Wes snickered until Iola’s gaze turned his way. “I heard about you going on a date with Bobbi.” She tsked. “That woman is all wrong for you. You just let me know if you want to sign up too.”
“I’m good, thanks,” Wes said.
She shook her head. “I don’t think you are, Wesley. What’s the longest you’ve ever dated a young lady? Two months?”
“Uh…I guess? I can find my own dates though.”
She pursed her lips. “Matchmaking is about finding your heart’s match, not just a date. Clearly you struggle with that.”
There was a screech of feedback from the microphone Tucker was fiddling with up front.
“Oh, look,” I said quickly. “We’re getting ready to start. I’ll give you a call Iola and we can talk more later.”
“See that you do.” She squeezed my shoulder, her bony fingers digging in a little painfully. “If Anna isn’t right for you, I’ll find someone who is.”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
She held my gaze for long enough that I had to fight the urge to fidget nervously like Wes had been. Thankfully this whole fiasco seemed to have distracted him. He casually let his knee rest against mine while he turned to greet LeRoy and Eugene, taking seats on our other side.
Tucker began to speak. “Thanks, everyone, for coming out to the town hall regarding our five-year strategic plan—”
“Stop Granville Shrinkage!” LeRoy yelled out from beside us and I fought a laugh at the epic eye roll that Tucker failed to hide.
“Yes,” he said dryly. “We’re here tonight to specifically talk about our plan for green spaces in Granville. But first, let’s give a hand to Potter Landscaping for doing a fantastic job improving Beaver Hole while satisfying the needs of Dix.”
There was a round of snickers. The community center wasn’t quite as full as it had been during the town hall to discuss neighborhood improvement plans over the summer, but there were still a good number of people filling the first three rows of chairs.
Tucker sighed, sounding resigned as he said, “Yes, I said Dix. Are we done?”
There was a little more laughter at his exasperation. He cleared his throat and plunged forward, giving an overview of the work done at Beaver Hole Park and the proposals Wes and I had provided for future projects, including a street beautification to extend downtown’s quaint vibe to a larger area and a community garden for the historic district.
“These are by no means approved yet,” Tucker said. “This is an informational meeting, and we want your input. Wes and Beckett from Potter Landscaping are here to answer questions as well, so why don’t we get them up here?”
He waved us to the front of the room, and we answered a couple of general questions about the proposals Tucker had presented. Wes had turned on the charm the moment he had to speak to the crowd, and they were eating out of the palm of his hand, so clearly he had nothing to worry about.
But just as it seemed everything would go smoothly, an older gentleman stood up. I didn’t know him well, but I recognized his thick head of silver hair. “Now, hold up a second, I’d like to speak.”
Tucker nodded. “Of course, Mr. Russell. We’re listening.”
