Chapter 18
Winnie set the teapot on the kitchen table as Sally came through the back door, bakery box in hand.
Tuesday afternoon. Same as last week, same as the week before that, same as however many years they’d been doing this.
Sally dropped into her chair by the window, the one with the faded cushion she’d brought over herself a decade ago because Winnie’s chairs were “hard as church pews.”
“Lemon cream puffs.” Sally opened the box and pushed it across the table. “The new girl at the bakery made them. Thought we’d see if she knows what she’s doing.”
Winnie poured tea into two cups—hers with the chipped handle that she kept meaning to replace, Sally’s with the roses that had been red once and were now just a suggestion of pink. “After those chocolate things you brought last month, I’m not getting my hopes up.”
“Those were perfectly fine chocolate things.”
“They tasted like cardboard dipped in cocoa powder.”
Sally laughed and took a cream puff, biting into it. Powdered sugar scattered across her navy shirt. She didn’t bother brushing it off. “These are better. Try one.”
Winnie did. The lemon hit first, tart and bright, then the cream underneath. Not too sweet. “All right. The new girl can stay.”
“High praise from you.” Sally took another bite, catching a bit of cream that escaped with her thumb. “I’ll let her know she passed the Winnie Lockhart test.”
“Don’t you dare.”
They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes.
The afternoon light came through the window at a low angle, catching a streak of dust on the far edge of the table.
Winnie got up, grabbed a dish towel, and swiped at the dust. Hardly anyone ever sat in that seat.
It had been her father’s. She settled back in her chair and took a sip of tea.
She could hear the faint crash of waves from the beach, muffled by distance and the cottage walls.
Winnie mindlessly folded the towel. “Have you finalized the vendor list for Springtide yet?”
“Mostly. I’ve got confirmations from about thirty people. Still waiting to hear back from that jewelry maker in Clearwater. The one who does the sea glass pieces.”
“Oh, I remember her. The necklace with the green glass?”
“That’s her. She said she’d let me know by the end of the week, but that was last week, so.” Sally shrugged. “I’ll call her again tomorrow.”
“Her work is beautiful.”
“It is. Which is why I want her there.” Sally picked up her tea and held it without drinking, letting the warmth seep into her hands. “Of course, the mayor wants to expand the vendor area again.”
“Again?”
“She thinks we should take over the whole parking lot behind the community center. Set up twice as many booths.”
“Where would people park?”
“Exactly what I said. She told me we could arrange a shuttle from the church lot.” Sally rolled her eyes. “A shuttle. For Springtide. Like we’re running some kind of major operation.”
“She does like her big ideas.”
“She likes the idea of big ideas. The actual logistics, she leaves to everyone else.” Sally shook her head. “I told her we’d discuss it at the next planning meeting. Which means I have a week to figure out how to talk her out of it without making her dig in.”
Winnie smiled. Sally had been managing difficult people on the festival committee for fifteen years. She’d figure it out. She always did.
Sally set her cup down with a small clink against the saucer. “I saw Grant and Emily in town the other day.”
“Did you?”
“They looked comfortable together.”
“Did they?”
Sally gave her a look. “Winnie. I’ve heard from at least four people this week about the two of them. You’re going to pretend you don’t know anything?”
Winnie added a spoonful of honey to her tea and stirred it slowly, watching the honey dissolve in amber spirals. “I know Grant asked her to show her work at the festival.”
“And?”
“She said no.” Winnie sighed. “He’s asked twice. She keeps finding reasons to refuse.”
Sally frowned, reaching for another cream puff. “That’s a shame. I know you said the painting she did of your grandfather’s study was wonderful. Full of emotion.”
“Emily’s talented. More talented than she knows or admits.” Winnie set her cup down. “But that awful situation in Chicago did a number on her confidence.”
“That Julian fellow, right? Franklin’s son?”
“Yes.” Winnie’s jaw tightened. “And he’s still at it, apparently. Emily mentioned he sent her another message last week.”
“That’s horrible.” Sally shook her head, genuine anger flashing across her face. “Emily’s been cleared of any wrongdoing. The courts said so. What more does this Julian person want?”
“I don’t think it’s about the truth for him. It’s about blame. About grief, maybe.” Winnie picked up her tea again. “But whatever his reasons, it’s working. Emily’s terrified to put her work out there.”
They sat with that for a moment. The clock on the wall ticked. Somewhere outside, a car door slammed.
Sally leaned back in her chair, studying Winnie’s face. “Grant must really believe in her if he keeps asking.”
“He does.” Winnie couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips, and Sally caught it immediately.
“What was that?”
“What was what?”
“That. That little—” Sally gestured vaguely at Winnie’s face. “You know something.”
“I don’t know anything.” She tried for innocence, focusing intently on her tea.
Sally laughed. “Winnie Lockhart, I’ve known you your whole life. Don’t even try.”
Winnie sighed. There was no point trying to hide things from Sally.
Never had been, not since they were seven years old and Sally had figured out that Winnie was the one who’d accidentally broken the window in the Wilsons’ shed.
“Fine. I think there might be something between them. Or starting to be.”
“Really?” Sally’s eyes lit up with genuine delight. “Tell me everything.”
“There’s not much to tell yet. But he walked her home from dinner at his mother’s house last week. And I’ve seen him at the beach in the mornings when she paints. He says he’s just walking, but that man hasn’t taken morning beach walks since high school.”
“Margaret must be pleased.”
“I haven’t talked to her about it. But yes, I imagine she’s noticed.” Winnie traced the rim of her cup with one finger. “They’re good for each other, I think. They understand what the other’s been through.”
“Both got hurt by people they trusted.” Sally nodded slowly. “That’s not a small thing.”
“No, it’s not.” Winnie stared out the window again, watching clouds drift past the lighthouse. “Grant’s been closed off since he returned to Starlight Shores. Hasn’t let anyone close. But with Emily...” She trailed off, searching for the right words. “I don’t know…”
“Maybe they’re both ready now. Sometimes timing matters more than we want to admit.”
“Maybe.” Winnie hoped so. Both of them deserved something good after the past few years.
Sally reached for the last cream puff, then stopped. “You want this?”
“Go ahead.”
Sally took it and bit in. More powdered sugar fell. “What about Melissa? She settling in all right?”
“She is, actually. She and Emily have become friends.”
“Have they?”
“I saw them on the beach the other morning. Melissa had her camera, and Emily had her sketchbook. They weren’t talking much, just walking together.
” Winnie remembered how they’d looked, two figures moving along the waterline in the early light.
Comfortable in the silence. “I think it’s good for both of them. ”
“Melissa seems like she keeps to herself.”
“She does. But she’s coming out of it a little. The lighthouse is good for her, I think. Quiet. Room to breathe.”
Sally finished the cream puff and dusted off her hands. “I should get back. The store’s been busy this week.”
“That’s good.”
“Good for the bank account. Less good for my feet.” Sally stood and carried her cup to the sink, rinsing it out of habit even though Winnie would wash it properly later. “I keep meaning to hire someone part-time.”
“You should.”
“I know. I just haven’t found the time to actually do it.”
“Make time.”
Sally laughed, drying her hands on the towel by the sink. “You’re one to talk. When’s the last time you took a day off?”
Winnie didn’t answer because Sally had a point and they both knew it.
Sally came back around the table and hugged her, a quick, tight squeeze. “Friday night? Save me a seat by the fire.”
“Always do.”
Winnie watched from the doorway as Sally walked across the courtyard toward the parking area, her friend’s figure moving with the same brisk energy she’d had at seventeen. Some things never changed.