Chapter 27
The festival hit its peak as the sun dipped toward the horizon.
Cassidy stood near the main stage, watching families gather blankets and lawn chairs along the waterfront for the boat parade.
The scent of fried fish and kettle corn drifted through the warm evening air.
Children darted between vendor booths while the Harbor Ladies sold out of their last batch of sweet tea.
She should have felt triumphant. Every metric she’d tracked pointed to success.
Attendance had tripled from last year. Local vendors reported record sales.
The Gulf Coast Tourism Board representatives had been taking photos all afternoon, already promising feature coverage in their magazine, which would be good publicity for the town.
Instead, her stomach twisted with dread.
David Wilde stood twenty feet away, checking his watch for the third time in as many minutes. He’d changed into khakis and a polo shirt, his concession to casual coastal attire that somehow made him look more out of place than the suit had. Every few minutes, he’d catch her eye and tap his wrist.
The message was clear. Time was running out.
She pulled out her phone. Two missed calls from her office. An email from Steve Hodges that she couldn’t bring herself to open. Another text from David: We need to talk. Now.
“There you are.”
Cassidy turned to find her mother approaching, carrying two cups of lemonade. Her mom had spent the afternoon charming everyone she met, somehow already on a first-name basis with the Harbor Ladies, and deeply engaged in a conversation with Marty about maritime history books.
“I brought reinforcements.” Her mom handed her a cup. “You look like you need it.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re standing like you’re waiting for a performance review.” Her mom’s tone was gentle but firm. “Shoulders back, chin up, braced for criticism.”
She forced herself to relax her posture. Her mother was right. She’d reverted to her corporate stance without realizing it, armor against the inevitable confrontation.
“My boss wants an answer.”
“I imagine he does.” Her mom sipped her lemonade and surveyed the festival grounds. “This is really something, sweetheart. You should be proud.”
“It was a team effort.”
“Don’t do that.” Her mom’s voice sharpened. “Don’t diminish what you accomplished here. You took a struggling event and turned it into something that brought this entire community together. You honored their history while giving them a future. That matters.”
She wanted to believe that. Wanted to think the past six weeks had been more than just a portfolio piece or a sabbatical project. But David’s presence reminded her of the cost of that belief.
The corner office. The title she’d spent years chasing. The validation that she was good enough, successful enough, and that the burnout hadn’t broken her permanently.
If she walked away now, it would all be gone.
“Mom, I don’t know what to do.”
“Yes, you do. You’re just afraid to admit it.”
Before she could respond, David materialized beside them. His smile was pleasant, but his eyes were cold.
“Mrs. Wren, lovely to see you again.” He barely glanced at her mom before focusing on Cassidy. “I need to borrow Cassidy for a moment. Business.”
“Actually, we were just—”
“It won’t take long.” David’s hand closed around Cassidy’s elbow, already steering her away.
She met her mother’s gaze. Her mom’s expression was calm, but her meaning was clear. This is your choice. Make it.
David guided her toward the pier, away from the crowds. The festival noise faded behind them, replaced by the gentle lap of water against the pilings and the distant cry of gulls. The sun hung low on the horizon, spilling splashes of amber and violet over the Gulf.
It should have been beautiful. Instead, she felt like she was walking to her execution.
David stopped at the end of the pier and released her arm. When he turned to face her, all pretense of pleasantness had vanished.
“I’ve been patient, Cassidy. More than patient. But this ends now.”
She crossed her arms. “The festival isn’t over for another two hours.”
“I’m not talking about the festival. I’m talking about this ridiculous sabbatical fantasy.” He gestured dismissively at the town behind them. “You’ve had your break. You’ve played small-town hero. Now it’s time to come back to reality.”
“This is reality.”
“This?” He laughed, sharp and cutting. “This is a dying fishing village desperately clinging to relevance. You organized a nice little fair for them. Congratulations. But don’t confuse a successful event with a sustainable future.”
She looked at him defiantly. “The Gulf Coast Tourism Board thinks differently.”
“The Tourism Board wants content for their brochures. They’ll feature you for one season and move on to the next quaint coastal town.
” He stepped closer. “But I’m offering you a career.
The Senior VP position. Your own division and everything that comes after it.
That’s real power, Cassidy. Real influence. Not this small-time nonsense.”
“This small-time nonsense matters to people.”
“People like Bryan Lucas?” David’s smile turned cruel. “The fisherman playing at restaurant owner? You think he’s going to provide the kind of life you’re accustomed to? The kind of challenge that actually uses your talents?”
Heat flooded Cassidy’s face. “Bryan has nothing to do with this decision.”
“Doesn’t he?” David pulled out his phone and swiped through screens.
“I did some research while you were busy playing event coordinator. The Sandpiper is hemorrhaging money. Lucas took out a second mortgage last year, and he’s behind on payments.
His fishing operation is underwater, metaphorically and soon literally, when Oceanside Development buys up the waterfront. ”
She had known Bryan was struggling, but hearing it laid out so clinically made her stomach churn.
“You’re a brilliant strategist, Cassidy. Surely you can see the math here.” David’s voice softened to something almost sympathetic. “This town is dying. Your fisherman is failing. And you’re standing here pretending that a few weeks of playing house changes years of building a career.”
“I’m not playing house.”
“Then what are you doing?” He spread his hands. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re throwing away everything you worked for. Everything you are. For what? A man you barely know and a town that will forget you exist the moment the next crisis hits?”
She wanted to argue, tell him he was wrong, and that he didn’t understand what she’d found here. But the words caught in her throat because part of her wondered if he was right.
She’d been in Starlight Shores for eight weeks. Eight weeks against all those years in Chicago. Eight weeks of borrowed community and temporary purpose. What made her think she belonged here? That she could build a real life in a place where she’d arrived as a stranger?
The lighthouse beam swept across the water, its steady rotation marking time. She watched the light arc through the gathering dusk and thought about Bryan’s grandfather’s words. The light shows you where you are, not just where you’re going.
Where was she?
Standing on a pier in a town that had welcomed her when she had nothing to offer but broken ambition and empty schedules. A town that had trusted her with their history and their future. A town that had given her friendship and community and the first real peace she’d felt in years.
A town where Bryan Lucas had looked at her like she mattered for more than her quarterly performance metrics.
“I need an answer, Cassidy.” David’s patience was fraying.
“We can be back in Chicago by midnight if we leave now. You can spend the rest of the weekend preparing for Monday’s meeting.
Steve will be there, of course, eager to take credit for saving the Phillips account.
Unless you’re there to remind everyone exactly who built that relationship in the first place. ”
The familiar competitive fire sparked in her chest. Steve Hodges, with his smug emails and calculated undermining, sitting in her seat at the conference table and taking credit for her work.
She’d given the company fifteen years of her life, and they’d responded to her burnout by putting her on mandatory leave and letting her rival circle like a shark.
The Cassidy who’d arrived in Starlight Shores would have been terrified of that and jumped at the chance to reclaim her position and prove she was still sharp, still valuable.
But that Cassidy had been running on empty, measuring her worth in titles and metrics because she had nothing else to measure.
This Cassidy had spent the morning helping Sally Morris hang bunting and laughed with Dorothy and the Harbor Ladies over recipe cards.
She’d watched Mona Lucas beam with pride as festival-goers lined up for The Sandpiper’s booth.
She’d felt her mother’s hand squeeze hers as they surveyed the crowded grounds together.
She had fallen in love with a man who saw past her resume to the person she was becoming.
The realization settled over her like the lighthouse beam, steady and undeniable.
She turned to face him fully. “I’m not coming back.”
His expression flickered with surprise before hardening. “Excuse me?”
“I appreciate the offer. I really do. But I’m not coming back to Chicago.” The words felt strange in her mouth, both terrifying and liberating. “I’m staying in Starlight Shores.”
“Cassidy, don’t be ridiculous. You can’t just—”
“And yet, I can.”
David looked startled, and she took the opportunity to move past him, putting distance between them.
“You’re making a mistake,” he called after her.
“You think this town wants you? You’re a project to them.
A consultant they’ll use until the novelty wears off.
Then what? You’ll come crawling back to Chicago, but the opportunity will be gone.
Steve will have your office, your accounts, and your future. ”