Chapter 10
Kelly
I coast to a stop in front of the town hall’s brick facade, gripping the brakes a second longer than necessary, as if that pause might steady my racing thoughts. First day at work—time to see what Harbor’s Edge has in store for me. I swing my leg off the bike, set down the stand, and lock it to the rack, the cold air biting at my cheeks.
I catch a faint whiff of burning wood and salt air in the crisp breeze, and my mind flicks back to Saturday night—to Jake, his scent, the way his fingers gripped greedily on my skin. The memory sends heat rising up my neck, even in the brisk morning air. It was a mistake, I tell myself again, trying to lock the memory away.
Because I can’t let a single night, a stupid, reckless night, drag me back to places I’ve worked hard to leave behind. Harbor’s Edge might be filled with memories, but I can’t let it be my prison.
I need a reset button, or a time machine. Hell, anything will do if it wipes out what happened at the wedding. But I can’t wipe it, so I just need to stay strong and not think about him. At all.
“Here goes nothing.” I push through the doors into the echoing lobby, pulling off my gloves and shoving them in my bag. It smells of floor wax and old wood, and people are hurrying about carrying files and cups of takeaway coffee.
“Kelly Charleston?”
I turn to see a woman who can only be Mayor Elaine Roberts approaching with an outstretched hand and a no-nonsense look that says she gets things done, but isn’t averse to a good laugh. I recognize her from her photo on the town’s website and our zoom calls, and take her hand.
“Mayor Roberts. It’s so good to meet you face-to-face. Thank you for this opportunity.”
“Elaine, please,” she says, scanning me as if taking inventory of my potential. “You’re originally from Harbor’s Edge, right?”
“That’s right. My family left a little more than ten years ago.”
“I knew your Dad’s brother pretty well, way back when, and often saw your parents around town. Well, it’s nice to have you back. Let’s show you around.”
The mayor leads me through the halls, and I try to listen, to be fully present. But memories of the wedding night keep tugging at my thoughts, and every time I pull myself back to the mayor’s voice, another memory slips in, testing my resolve.
As we walk through corridors lined with photos of Harbor’s Edge from days past, I catch sight of a few familiar faces. Mrs. Harmon, who used to work at the post office, gives me a double-take before waving enthusiastically. “Kelly Charleston! Well, I’ll be! You’re back?”
I offer a quick wave. “I’m back. It’s good to see you, Mrs. Harmon.”
The mayor’s pace is brisk, her talk straightforward as we continue the tour, her filling me in on the projects I’ll be spearheading. There’s something about her energy that gets me excited about what’s to come.
“As you can tell, there’s plenty to do,” she says. “I’m sure you’ll find your footing in no time.”
“Absolutely,” I agree, already cataloging tasks, mentally arranging them by priority and deadline. Lists form in my mind. Lists that help crowd out other thoughts.
“Good.” Elaine seems satisfied with my response. “You’re here to make a difference. And I have a feeling you will. We’ve got a meeting in an hour or so about the Founder’s Day Festival. I’ll come and get you when it’s time.”
We walk past an open plan office space, with cubicles laid out neatly, and I spot Mrs. Jones, the wife of the high school football coach, who looks up from her phone and gives me a smile.
As we end the tour back at my new office, Elaine gives me a knowing look—she sees the ambition simmering under my skin, knows I’m going to give this job my all. The door clicks shut behind her, and I’m alone.
My office is small but bright, with windows that let in the mid-morning sun. A sleek wooden desk sits in the center, topped with a computer and a planner, with a black office chair and a couple of simple chairs on the other side of the desk for visitors.
On the far wall, a cork board is pinned with past event flyers, and there’s an empty shelving unit below it, stacked with a couple of new notepads and folders. The room smells faintly of fresh paper and ink, and the minimalist decor seems purposeful—everything in its place, just the way I like it.
“Let’s do this,” I say to the empty room, a challenge to myself as I settle into my chair. Because if there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that if I’m going to make Mom proud, the only one I can rely on is staring back at me in the reflection of the darkened computer screen.
But my mind drifts almost immediately. I can almost feel Jake, the desperation in his touch, and I squeeze my legs closed, trying to banish the heat pooling there.
It’s no use. The taste of his lips, the touch of his hands. I never stopped loving you . The words slip into my mind, uninvited, the honesty of them too raw. He’d held me as though he still knew me, like the years between us were nothing.
That was just a one time thing, a lapse in judgment. I glance around the empty office, telling myself to snap out of it, while part of me wonders if that night unlocked something I’m not sure I can put away so easily. A wild animal finally uncaged.
I let out a sigh, and spend some time sorting out my stationary, setting up my computer, and getting my planner organized until the mayor knocks on my door. Soon I’m walking beside her once more, her low heels clicking a steady beat against the polished floors as we stride toward the meeting.
“This Founder’s Day Festival needs to be a knockout. We’re talking big—bigger than ever,” she says without breaking stride.
“It’s always been a tourist draw during the low season.”
“Exactly. And tourism is our bread and butter. The festival has always been popular, but this year, we’re aiming for a major boost to the economy.”
We reach the meeting room and I pause, letting the mayor enter first before I follow in behind her. The table’s a sea of papers and open laptops, with town officials hunched over, plotting to take over the world. Maybe they are—in a small-town festival sort of way.
“Everyone, this is Kelly Charleston, our new secret weapon,” Elaine announces, and heads turn, appraising me. I give them my best I’ve-got-this-smile . It’s go time.
I pause for a moment, letting my gaze sweep over the people already seated. It takes me a beat to realize I recognize more than a few faces. Harbor’s Edge has always been small, and even though it’s been years since I left, some people haven’t changed all that much.
There’s Allison Brady, who was two years ahead of me in school, now sitting at the far end of the table with a laptop open, her signature fiery red hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. She used to run the student council and edit the school newspaper.
And then there’s Darren Green, one of Jake’s old football teammates, who gives me a nod of recognition. “Kelly Charleston. It’s been a while.”
“Darren, Allison—good to see you both.”
The mayor steps up beside me. “Kelly’s got a lot of experience with sustainable event planning, which we’ll need if we want this festival to grow responsibly. We want new attractions, more vendors, and for the festival to be the best ever. Kelly here will help us ensure it all aligns with our green initiatives and attracts even more people to our beautiful town.” Her gaze meets mine. “How about you introduce yourself, and then we can brainstorm some initial ideas?”
Purpose surges through me, a reminder of why I’m here. To build something, to find my footing again, to make a difference, Jake Tanner be damned. I can almost sense Mom’s presence, her encouragement. And in that moment, the echoes of Jake fade. I didn’t come here for him. I’m here to build my future, not to be weighed down by the past.
I spend a few minutes giving everyone an abridged version of my resume before turning to the festival. “Alright folks, let’s talk turkey.” My mind races through eco-friendly possibilities to elevate the festival, and I start throwing some of them out there: biodegradable Christmas decorations, solar-powered lights, zero-waste food stalls.
We keep talking specifics, brainstorming, and the energy in the meeting room shifts as people start to get excited. Once we’ve finished getting all our ideas down, an initial concept for the festival taking shape, Elaine mentions she is in the final stage of selecting a contractor for the new booths, installments and main stage.
She looks at me. “It’s a major piece of the puzzle, and we want it done right. Once we’ve awarded the contract, you’re going to be working very closely with the successful contractor.”
I’m already imagining the potential of what we can achieve having a dedicated contractor working on the festival. “Of course. This is going to be great.”
A few members of the team catch my eye and smile, and pleasure spreads through me. Despite my brothers’ doubts, this is good. This feels right. As though I’m heading in the right direction. The rest of the meeting passes quickly, and soon I’m back in my office. It’s official—I’m in the thick of it now.
As the afternoon wanes, the rhythm of small-town bureaucracy is oddly comforting. Colleagues pop in and out of my office, and I start matching faces, names, and roles in my head. A guy named Charlie with friendly eyes and a clipboard in hand knocks and steps into my office. “Got everything you need?”
“Getting there,” I say with a shrug. “Just need to find where you guys hide the good pens.”
He laughs and promises to reveal the secret stash later. He disappears down the hallway, before I turn back to my computer, where I’m setting out some initial new booth designs, waste management strategies, and vendor guidelines.
Half an hour later, someone clears their throat and I glance up to see the mayor in my doorway. “Looks like you’re settling in alright.”
“Feels like it,” I admit. “This festival’s going to be something else. Your vision is perfect and I’m going to make it happen.”
“Keep that fire. We’re gonna need it because we’ve never done something this big before. There are bound to be teething problems, but I have absolute faith you can do this.”
“Thank you, I won’t disappoint you.”
The mayor disappears, and I scan the neat rows of my notes. Once, twice, then two more times, it’s a rhythm that keeps my thoughts in order. My fingers twitch, and I’m aligning pens by color and size. The blues kiss the edge of the ruler, the reds snug up next to them—uniform, perfect.
The day wraps up without fanfare, the setting sun casting long shadows across my desk. I pack up my things slowly, letting silence fill the space as the other offices empty, my stupid brain reliving that night yet again as though it’s my favorite song. The more I try to put it out of my mind, the stronger the pull is, the harder it is to ignore.
I shake my head. I can’t afford distractions, especially when they come in the form of a man I swore I was done with. And today went well. I made it through the first gauntlet, and as I pick up my bag, there’s a sense of accomplishment, despite Jake’s lingering presence at the edges of my mind.
“See you tomorrow, Kelly,” someone calls out as I step into the corridor.
“See you then,” I shoot back, my office door closing behind me.
Harbor’s Edge, here I am. Ready or not.