Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Shane felt a welling sense of pride as he stood in the middle of Magnolia Shore’s town square and surveilled the historical society event, which had started a few hours earlier and was already hopping.
There were a dozen booths arranged around the center of the square, and each one had a cluster of attendees eager to see what was happening.
Some of the more popular tables, like the apple-throwing area and the tree where Winnie had hung up the tree-dangling apple bobbing game, had long lines of people eager to give a shot at the colonial-era games.
The crowd was made up of all ages too, he was pleased to note.
Yes, there were the little kids, who had come out with their parents, and there were the older folks who had long been supporters of the historical society.
But the apple throwing had attracted even the elusive teenager crowd, which Shane knew Winnie had despaired of ever drawing in.
Yet, there they were, perhaps half a dozen kids, wearing baseball caps and carrying backpacks and practically falling over themselves laughing over the novelty of throwing fruit.
Indeed, the entire air was convivial. There were people admiring the Civil War soldiers that Shane had battled in the closet.
The cornhole boards were a huge hit. Winnie had set up a model train that imitated how the first railroad in Magnolia Shore had cut through the landscape, and adult miniature enthusiasts pointed out the details to a group of young boys who were eating up every word.
And then there was Winnie herself, practically glowing with the happiness of a job well done.
Shane wanted to congratulate her, but he hadn’t seen her alone for even a single moment, so he contented himself with watching from afar as an endless stream of people came up to praise her for the ingenuity and cleverness of her event.
He leaned against a tree and watched her, a faint smile on his face, as she chatted with an older lady that Shane knew from the opening ceremony-style conversation at the beginning of the event was a representative from a neighboring historical society.
Before Shane had lost his sister in the crowd, she’d identified the town as another similarly small place about half an hour up the coast.
“But worse than Magnolia Shore, obviously,” she had said, her voice soft, lest she be overheard.
“Obviously,” Shane had agreed, just to make Eleanor laugh.
Now, Winnie and the other historian were standing with a group of people who had to be her family.
A man who walked with a cane had his arm looped in hers, suggesting that he was her husband, and the younger woman standing beside her was her spitting image.
Clearly a daughter. A couple of grandchildren darted around, playing some kind of chasing game, and every time one of the kids passed within reach, the grandmother reached out to caress a lock of hair or pat a shoulder, never once breaking eye contact with Winnie while she did so.
The whole thing could not have gone better.
And Shane was so, so happy for Winnie. This was a huge professional success for her, of course, but he was even more delighted by the ways in which the event aligned with her personal goals.
Inviting all ages had turned something that had once been a stuffy event for the over-fifty crowd into a true community event.
And nobody deserved that community more than Winnie…
at least, not in Shane’s humble opinion.
He admitted that he might be a little bit biased.
He lingered, content to just lean against his tree, enjoy the perfectly crisp fall weather, and watch his girl as she basked in her triumph.
Not that Winnie was his girl. Or, at least not yet. But he hoped.
He flattered himself that things were looking up. He wasn’t in a rush, though, even if maybe he ought to be. His life was still very much up in the air. But he was happy where he was.
Briefly, Shane thought he would get his moment with Winnie.
The lady from the neighboring historical society wandered away.
She made it only a few feet before one of her grandkids tugged her by the hand toward the cornhole boards.
Before Shane could even start in Winnie’s direction, however, she was mobbed by a group of the book club ladies and their partners.
Cadence, exuberant, threw her arms around Winnie’s neck. Winnie looked briefly startled and uncertain what to do with her hands, but the moment passed and she hugged Cadence back while Tyler and their daughter, Izzy, looked on indulgently.
Well, Tyler was looking indulgent. Izzy was eating a caramel apple that was about as big as her head.
Diana was with them, as was Anthony and his daughter, who had her nose in one of the informational pamphlets that Winnie had placed at strategic points around the event.
Winnie would be thrilled. The only thing that would tickle her more than a successful event would be a budding historian in the making.
The group chatted excitedly, the two women gesturing at various scenes of the event, their animated faces suggesting that they had nothing but praise for Winnie. If he’d had any doubts, the pleased blush on Winnie’s cheeks would have confirmed it.
“Excuse me, sir?”
Shane startled slightly, then turned to see the man with the cane whom he had clocked as the historical society leader’s husband standing next to him.
Up close, he was a dapper, gentlemanly sort of man.
He was wearing a tweed coat and slacks, and though he leaned on his cane for support, it looked like a natural part of his outfit.
Shane smiled. “Sorry,” he said. “You caught me woolgathering.”
The older man followed the direction of Shane’s gaze, then turned back and gave him a knowing wink.
“Ah, yes,” he said slyly. “I too, like to ‘woolgather’ in my wife’s direction.”
Shane didn’t bother denying it.
“I’m Max Chandler,” the man said, offering his hand to shake, which Shane accepted. “My wife is Kathleen Chandler, the head of the historical society in Worthford Bay. Miss Winnie over there told us that you were the one who handled the publicity for this wonderful event.”
Shane waved him off. “Oh, Winnie deserves all the credit,” he said. “I was just an assistant getting the word out there. Improved the historical society’s website, got some digital ad campaigns going, that sort of thing.”
“I’m not trying to steal credit, son,” the older man said with a chuckle.
“Trust me. My wife is going to be singing Miss Winnie’s praises for weeks.
She already asked Winnie if she’d ever consider getting poached up to our little town, but Winnie told her no—not that I think Kathleen ever expected anything different.These historians get mighty fierce about their work.
But I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that. ”
It warmed something in Shane to have this man, who likely had been married for decades, talk to him like he considered Shane’s relationship with Winnie to be of a piece with his own longstanding romance. Shane knew that wasn’t quite the case, of course, but still. It felt nice.
“No,” Max continued, “I’m here to ask if you’re looking for more work, son.”
Shane blinked in surprise. “More work?”
The man nodded. “I own an antiques store up in Worthford Bay. A love of history runs in the family. My daughter works there with me. It’s a whole family affair.
Anyway, I do the business side of things and she has the amazing eye for finding new treasures, but we are looking to outsource some of the advertising work.
The work you did here was very nice. Eye-catching, but not tacky.
It really spoke to the audience you’ve gotten here today.
So. I would like to hire you. If you’re amenable, that is. ”
“Yes!”
The word left Shane’s lips before he even thought about it, but once he did pause to think, he found that he liked the idea a great deal.
He had liked doing the publicity work for the event, and getting to update the historical society’s website had been a rare treat.
He hadn’t quite realized it until he was deep in researching color theory and modern design trends, but he’d gotten so high up in the coding department of his company that he hadn’t been doing any of the visual components of the things that he programmed.
He liked doing that part. He wanted to do more of it.
“Yes?” the older man asked, clearly amused. “Well, wonderful. Do you have a card?”
Shane did, although he made sure to cross out his email at his company before he handed it over to Max.
He didn’t think too much about that decision until after he and the older gentleman had chatted a bit about the kind of work he needed and the timeline for the projects.
Once the man had returned to his family, however, and Shane was back to his original spot under the tree, he thought about drawing a line through that email address.
It wasn’t against his contract at his other job to take on more work, after all. He had double-checked his contract after doing that first job for Diana. But his instinct had been not to have them find out about this new job with Max until after he had an exit strategy in place.
And that meant that, for the first time, he was really, seriously thinking about having an exit strategy. He was treating his time in Magnolia Shore like it wasn’t all that temporary.
That was foolish though, right? He had a whole life in San Francisco. And he could do the job for Max remotely.
Except… did he have a whole life in San Fran?
He had a job, yeah. And an apartment. But he didn’t even have a plant in that apartment, not since the last one had died because he’d spent too many long days at his job and forgotten to water it too often.
He had friends, but they rarely saw one another, because they were all too busy with their jobs too.
None of them had even called to find out where he was, because they probably hadn’t even realized that he’d left California.
They weren’t those kinds of friends. They were “Hey, want to grab a beer sometime in the next couple of weeks?” friends not “Can I tell you about something that’s weighing on me? ” friends.
Heck, even without their romance in play, he’d built a closer friendship with Winnie in these past few weeks than he had with many of the friends he’d had in California for the past several years.
He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure about very much at all.
Except for one thing. He was very, very sure that he wasn’t ready to leave Magnolia Shore yet.