Chapter 21
B everly watched the hands of the clock tick past four. The closed sign was in the window, and she mentally ticked through her closing checklist, perfected over the years.
The bell over the door jingled, and she looked up to see Cliff walk in.
Her heart did that ridiculous little flutter that it had started doing whenever he appeared.
Ever since they’d cleared the air about his letter, things had been different between them—not quite what they’d had as teenagers, but something new, something better in many ways.
“Hey,” he said, approaching the counter with that easy smile of his.
“Hey, yourself.” She set aside her cleaning cloth. “Coffee?”
“No, I’m good, thanks.” He glanced around the empty shop. “I was actually wondering if I could walk you home when you’re done here.”
The request was simple enough, but it felt significant somehow. They’d been rebuilding their friendship carefully, step by step, over coffee conversations and casual run-ins around town. This felt deliberate.
“Sure,” she said, trying to sound casual herself. “I’m almost finished closing up, if you don’t mind waiting.”
“Not at all.” He settled at the counter, watching as she finished her closing routine.
Beverly moved efficiently through her tasks, all too aware of Cliff’s presence.
She prepped the coffee makers for tomorrow morning and straightened the chairs at the tables.
All the while, she felt Cliff’s eyes on her, observing her in her element.
It wasn’t uncomfortable—rather, the opposite.
There was something comforting about his quiet presence.
She came back to the counter and took off her apron.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded, and they stepped outside into the late afternoon sunshine. A magical light had that golden quality that made everything on Magnolia Key look like it belonged in a painting.
They walked in companionable silence for a few minutes, their footsteps falling into an easy rhythm on the sidewalk. The storm had left its mark on the town—there were still tarps on some roofs and construction debris in piles waiting to be hauled away—but recovery was happening all around them.
“How’s the theater coming along?” she asked, breaking the silence.
“Good. We got the roof finished yesterday. The water damage inside is going to take longer, but at least it’s dry now.”
“That’s wonderful. Tori must be relieved.”
“She is. She’s already talking about what shows she wants to put on once it’s all fixed up.”
She smiled. “That sounds like Tori.”
They turned onto her street, and she found herself walking a little slower, not quite ready for their time together to end.
“How about you come in for a little while?” The words were out before she’d fully thought them through. “I’ve got a bottle of wine I’ve been saving for a special occasion.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And this is a special occasion?”
She felt her cheeks warm. “Well, the island’s still standing after a hurricane. My roof’s fixed. And…” She hesitated, then continued, “And we’re friends again. That seems pretty special to me.”
His smile softened. “It is. And I’d love to come in.”
They climbed the steps to her porch, and she unlocked the door. The cottage welcomed them with its familiar coziness. She moved to the kitchen while Cliff waited in the living room. As she returned, she saw him taking in the photos on her walls and the books on her shelves.
She nodded toward the porch. “It’s nice enough to sit outside, don’t you think?”
They settled into the wicker chairs on her porch, a gentle breeze rustling the palm fronds in her yard. For a moment, they simply sipped their wine, enjoying the peace of the early evening.
“I heard something interesting…” she said finally, turning to look at him.
“Oh?”
“Mm-hmm. I heard that someone started a hurricane recovery fund for families on the island who don’t have insurance or enough savings to repair their homes.
” She watched his expression carefully. “I heard that someone donated a substantial amount to get it started and has been quietly organizing volunteers to help with repairs.”
He shifted in his chair, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Is that right?”
“That’s what I heard,” she confirmed. “And apparently this mysterious benefactor specifically asked not to be named.”
He took a long sip of his wine. “People like to talk in small towns.”
“They do,” she agreed. “Especially when someone who’s been away for a long time comes back and starts doing good things for the community.”
His eyes met hers. “It’s not a big deal.”
“I think it is,” she said gently. “Why don’t you want people to know?”
He sighed and set his glass down on the small table between them. “Because I don’t want it to look like I’m trying to buy goodwill for my development project.”
“Is that what you’re doing?”
“No.” His response was immediate and firm. “The hurricane changed things. Seeing what this community went through, how everyone pulled together…” He shook his head. “I realized that whatever happens with the development, these are good people who need help now.”
She nodded as a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the wine.
“The fund is one thing,” he continued. “But honestly, it needs more money than what I’ve been able to put in. There are at least eight families who need significant help, and there’s only so much I can do.”
“Have you thought about doing a fundraiser?” she asked.
He chuckled. “About a hundred times. But I don’t know the first thing about organizing something like that. Corporate events, sure. But a community fundraiser?” He shook his head. “That’s not my territory.”
She gave him a little smile. “It’s mine, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’ve helped organize events for the town before. The summer festival, the Christmas market, that sort of thing.” She set her glass down. “I could help you put together a fundraiser for the recovery fund.”
He looked at her with surprise. “You’d do that?”
“Of course I would. This town is my home. And those families need help. I could ask Tori if we could do it at the theater,” she continued, the ideas already forming in her mind.
“Once the basic repairs are done. Tori would love to host something like that—it would be a perfect way to reintroduce the space to the community.”
“That’s… actually a really good idea,” he said, leaning forward in his chair. “We could get local businesses to donate items for a silent auction. Maybe have some local musicians perform.”
“Exactly!” A spark of excitement gathered inside her. “And food—we could get several restaurants involved. People are always more generous on a full stomach.”
“So you’ll really help me with this?”
“I will,” she said, meeting his eyes. “For Magnolia Key.” But it was more than that. It was also to help Cliff. To show him she believed in him.
She believed in him? That thought sent a shockwave through her. So, so very much had changed.
“For Magnolia Key,” he echoed, raising his glass in a small toast.
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, both lost in thoughts about the fundraiser.
The sunset painted the sky in shades of orange and pink, with a slash of purple above them.
She realized with a start that this was the most relaxed she’d felt in a long time—sitting here with Cliff, planning something good for their community.
“We should probably start making a list,” she said eventually. “Figure out what businesses to approach, what kind of timeline we’re looking at.”
“Some things never change. Always the planner.” He winked at her.
“Someone has to be,” she retorted, softening the words with a grin.
Cliff stood at Beverly’s door, the evening air warm around them.
The sound of waves in the distance mingled with a lone gull calling from the sky.
The stars began to twinkle above them. He felt a pull toward her he couldn’t deny, an undercurrent that had been there since he’d returned to Magnolia Key.
“I’m glad we’re back on track.” The words tumbling out awkwardly, and he grimaced inwardly at how formal they sounded. “I mean, I’m glad you’re not still mad at me.”
Her eyes caught his, and for a moment, he saw something there—a flicker of the past, perhaps, or maybe something new. Her lips curved into a soft smile that made his heart beat faster. He took her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin against his.
His gaze dropped to her lips. They were just inches away. One small movement and he could finally have the kiss he’d thought about for decades. The one that had haunted his dreams, the possibility that had lived in a corner of his mind all these years.
His heartbeat quickened. The moment stretched between them, filled with possibility. But something held him back—uncertainty, fear of rejection, or maybe their complicated history. Whatever it was, it kept him rooted in place.
“Goodnight, Beverly,” he said finally, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. “Thanks for the wine. And for agreeing to help with the fundraiser.”
Her smile didn’t falter, but he thought he saw a hint of disappointment in her eyes. Or was he just projecting his own feelings?
“Goodnight, Cliff,” she said softly. “See you tomorrow.”
He walked down the steps of her porch. The door closed behind him with a quiet click that somehow felt louder than it should have.
“Idiot,” he muttered to himself as he walked along the quiet streets of Magnolia Key.
The neighborhood was peaceful at this hour. Most homes still had lights on, people settling in for the evening after another day of hurricane recovery. He passed Mrs. Henderson’s place, noticing her new wind chimes tinkling in the breeze, replacing the ones lost in the storm.
What was wrong with him? He’d waited thirty years for that moment. Thirty years wondering what might have been if his father hadn’t crushed his spirit that night, if Theodore hadn’t intercepted his letter.
And now, when the perfect opportunity presented itself, he’d choked.
The streetlights cast long shadows as he walked. Jonah’s cottage wasn’t far, but tonight, the distance felt longer, each step a taunting reminder of his cowardice.
“You’re not seventeen anymore,” he told himself. “You’re a grown man who builds striking buildings for a living. You make million-dollar decisions without blinking. And you can’t even kiss a woman you’ve known your whole life?”
But that was just it. Beverly wasn’t just any woman. She was Beverly. The girl who’d helped him through algebra. The teenager who’d listened to his dreams. The woman who’d looked at him with such hurt and betrayal when he returned to Magnolia Key with plans to change her beloved town.
The same woman who now knew the truth and had somehow found it in her heart to forgive him.
He turned onto Wisteria Street, Jonah’s cottage now visible ahead. The lights were still on, which meant his mother and Jonah were probably playing cards in the living room, as had become their nightly ritual.
Cliff slowed his pace, not quite ready to face his mother’s perceptive gaze.
She’d know something was up the minute he walked in.
Eleanor Griffin hadn’t raised a son without learning to read his every expression.
And now that they were actually talking—really talking—for the first time in decades, he found her attention both welcome and unsettling.
He stopped and looked back in the direction of Beverly’s cottage. Maybe he should turn around. Go back. Finish what he’d started. Or at least what he’d thought about starting.
No. That would be even more awkward. Showing up at her door again minutes after leaving? What would he say? “Sorry, I forgot to kiss you good night”?
He shook his head and continued toward Jonah’s cottage.
The porch light welcomed him, just as it had every night since the hurricane.
He’d initially balked at staying with his mother and Jonah, but now he had to admit it wasn’t half bad.
Jonah was easy to be around, and his mother…
well, they were both trying. That counted for something.
As he climbed the steps to Jonah’s porch, Cliff realized something.
For the first time in years, Magnolia Key felt like home again.
Not just a place from his past or a location for his next development, but home.
The people, the streets, the smell of the ocean, and yes, Beverly—all of it wrapped around him like a familiar blanket.
And that realization scared him more than he cared to admit.
What if his development project really did change the character of this place? What if Beverly was right all along? What if his mother was right?
He paused at the door, hand on the knob. These were questions for another day. Tonight, he just needed to get through an evening of cards with his mother and Jonah without revealing that he’d almost kissed Beverly Mooney and then chickened out like a teenager.
As he opened the door, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, he’d get another chance… but would he chicken out again?