CHAPTER 46
Tally
HOPE HARBOR TOWN CHAT
RAYNA: Did you all see this? Our Tally Darling is FAMOUS!
BABS: I remember when she was just a little girl, working in Mabel’s Bakery. Rest in peace, Mabel.
RAYNA: Sweet Mabel.
MINDY: How did she die again?
RUBY: I think in her sleep?
BABS: In bed for sure.
ROSIE: Why does that sound dirty?
BABS: It’s a talent of mine.
STEW: Please make it stop.
FLETCHER: LADIES!
* * *
I’m not sure I’ve ever been as out of sorts as I feel sitting in Babs and Mindy’s salon, and for once it’s not because of the inappropriate comments Babs likes to make. It’s because the eyes of everyone in the salon are on me, and I don’t like to be the center of attention.
“You need to reply to these, too.” Penny points to the comments on her phone beneath the second post Hannah Hall made, which features all the vendors and designers for her ceremony.
She tagged me personally for the cake. I swallow hard as I think about how lucky we were that Hannah was so agreeable to switching out cakes after we told her what happened.
Another bride might have lost her mind. And it seemed it worked out for the best; a ton of people who attended the vow renewal ceremony have commented that it was the best cake they’d ever tasted.
Aiden Langfield—the freaking star center of the Boston Bolts—shared it on his story, too, and now I’ve been tagged in hundreds of comments asking how to order from me.
I nibble on my lip, trying to not fall victim to the over-whelming sense of imposter syndrome that threatens to take over.
Yes, the cake was gorgeous and tasted delicious.
But it was one freaking cake. Eventually people will find out that I was just a fill-in.
Like I am in so much of my life, helping during the seasons but never actually a part of the kitchen.
Pitching in at the farm until Billie arrives and takes my place.
I think of how I felt last week, though, with Walker in Mabel’s old bakery. I didn’t feel like a fill-in there. No, I felt alive and like I was right where I belong. Shit. I don’t want to leave.
I sigh. “I don’t even know what to say to these people. I’m leaving in two weeks.” Or at least, I’m supposed to leave in two weeks. I still haven’t replied to Rochelle, and I’m absolutely dreading that ferry ride to Nantucket.
Rosie holds up her mug. “Is there any prosecco left in that bottle?” Babs is folding foil into Rosie’s hair so she’s stuck in her chair for the time being.
When I’d shown up this morning for our appointment, I didn’t see the day going this way, but we’re four glasses—or mugs, I suppose—deep and this is the second bottle we’ve polished off if it’s finished. Which I suspect it is.
My sister lifts it up. “Feels empty to me.”
I hop up from my spot on the couch and grab it from her. Sure enough, there’s not a drop of booze left in it. “Definitely done.”
“There’s more in the cooler,” Rosie reminds me.
“You girls could just sit still and not drink prosecco,” Babs suggests.
“What would be the fun in that?” Rosie dangles her mug between her fingers as I stand to grab it and head for the cooler.
The Spring Fling is in ten days, right before I’m set to leave, and I’ve been beyond busy between the weddings at the farm, the grand marshal activities, Tally Tuesdays with Walker, and replying to all these messages on Instagram every night.
The truth is that every day I’m in this town, every moment I spend with Walker, I wish I wasn’t leaving.
The last eight weeks went by way too quickly, and the excitement I once felt about working on the menu with Rochelle isn’t there anymore.
I’ve come to love this place that I used to avoid, come to see the beauty in the townsfolks’ meddlesome ways.
The way in which they would do anything for one another.
More than all of that though, I’ve fallen for Walker. Hook, line, and sinker.
I promised myself I’d be open to new possibilities, to new dreams, but I think my dreams have changed more than I realized.
“Okay, don’t kill me, but look at the link I just sent you,” Penny says from her seat.
I’ve been avoiding my phone because there’s always more messages that I don’t want to deal with, but I huff and do what she asks. As soon as I open the text messages, there’s a stream of links.
I laugh as I shake my head in disbelief. She made me a freaking website. And a TikTok. And an Instagram. All for a business I don’t have. Tallulah’s Tasty Cakes. It’s catchy, I’ll give her that.
My fingers dig into my forehead. “You are insane.”
“It’s a good idea,” Penny says, shifting forward.
Mindy sighs. “If you keep moving, you’re going to end up with bangs again.”
Rosie snorts. “Uh-oh.”
“Penny, there’s likes fifty messages on this Instagram.” I groan. I can’t possibly keep up with this.
Rosie leans forward. “Let me see!”
Penny holds up her phone, waving it in her hand dramatically. “I’ll message it to you. Don’t go messing up your hair.”
I laugh, but I can’t ignore the excitement swirling in my chest.
For a moment everyone is silent while Rosie stares at the links Penny just sent her. “I don’t know, Tal, this looks pretty good to me.” She glances up from her phone. “And every day people are coming into the bar, asking if we have your cakes. You’re famous. You should strike while the iron’s hot.”
I shake my head. Could I really do this? Open a bakery and start my own business? It seems … a smile pulls at my lips. Damn, it seems pretty exciting.
My sister spots my smile. “See, I knew you’d like it.”
I try to straighten my lips, but they keep tugging up. “Okay, well, if I was to do this, would you be able to help me set up a rate sheet? And help me research what I can even charge? God, there’s so much I’d have to do.”
My sister smiles as she picks up her phone. “I thought you’d never ask.”
I glance down at the text to find a link to an article on costs of wedding cakes.
“We can start with that. Since you’re just starting out we should keep prices on the low end, but I’ll make something on Canva tonight.”
I tap my foot, staring at the website again. “Am I really doing this?”
The women all look at me expectantly. “I can call Rayna about Mabel’s?” Babs offers.
I shimmy my shoulders in excitement and let out a nervous squeal. “Okay, but can we talk about something else right now? I’m kind of freaking out.”
Penny grins with pride, and I revel in the feeling for a moment.
For so long I felt like I didn’t belong.
Like my sister didn’t truly see me. Like none of my friends or family did.
It’s clear, though, that those beliefs were grounded more in my insecurities than in reality, because she’s been fully supportive since the moment I showed a true interest in the bakery. Just like everyone else.
“Did you see that Jake Montgomery released a new book?” Babs muses, changing the subject.
I imagine the only person she could be talking to is my sister, so I glance back at Penny to gauge her reaction.
Sure enough, she’s sucking on her bottom lip, and though she nods at Babs in response, she doesn’t say anything else.
Mindy runs her fingers through Penny’s hair. “That boy ever get married?”
Penny’s shoulders lift. “No idea.”
“We should read it for book club this month, right?” Babs continues.
“It’s not a romance,” Penny grumbles.
“Oh, so you do know what it’s about,” Mindy teases.
“Leave her be,” Rosie growls. “You ladies are so nosy.”
I tune them all out while I pop the cork on the next bottle. They are nosy, but they’re also harmless and their interest comes from a good place. Besides, I’m celebrating.
“Have you given any more thought to my son?” Babs is saying to Penny when I deliver Rosie’s glass.
“Your married son,” I remind her.
She sighs. “You keep harping on that, but Penny’s already a woman of a certain age.”
“I’m not even thirty,” Penny grumbles. “Why do I come here again?”
“Because it’s what neighbors do,” Babs tells her. “Just like we all go to Rosie’s brewery even though not one of us likes beer, and we’ll all read Jake Montgomery’s bad book because he used to be a Daffodilian—”
“That’s not a word,” I interrupt.
Babs shushes me. “And it’s why we all buy enough flowers from your farm to cover that loan your daddy never should have taken.”
I’m just about to toss back another snarky comment when her words register and my head whips back in her direction. “What did you say?”
With eyes the size of saucers, Babs snaps her lips shut. I look at Penny. “Did you know about this?”
Penny eyes are wide and she shakes her head. “No. Mom never said anything.”
It’s like a punch to the gut. Ever since being back on the farm, I’ve known something seemed off.
“I’m sure it’s not a lot of money,” Penny offers hopefully.
“Well, I wouldn’t really say a hundred thousand dollars isn’t a lot of money,” Babs mumbles. “But I guess that’s really Walker’s problem now since he owns it.”
“He what?” Rosie growls, jerking her head around and glaring at the woman.
“You’re going to have streaks,” Babs hisses as she holds a piece of foil in her hand that was just coated in hair dye and wrapped around Rosie’s hair.
“I can pull it off,” my best friend says before standing and turning to me. “What do you want me to do?”
Ignoring Rosie, I focus on Babs. “What do you mean, Walker owns it?”
She nibbles on her lip. “I don’t think you were supposed to know that.”
“We deserve to know,” Penny proclaims. “It’s our farm.”
My stomach sinks as I remember all the times I’d said those exact words to Walker when I first arrived.
And then I recall the looks he’d give me.
At the time, I thought it was because he didn’t like the fact that it was mine and Penny’s.
But now I realize it was because he knew it wasn’t. All along, the farm has been his.