Chapter 4
The Atlantic Ocean didn’t care about Grace’s racing heart or the fact that her past had just parked itself above the Beach Belle. No, the waves kept rolling in, a rhythmic, salty pulse that usually served as her greatest comfort.
If only.
This morning, she didn’t feel the expanse of the ocean stretching to the horizon full of possibilities. Today, she felt hemmed in. The tide had become a ticking clock, counting down the seconds until she had to face the man who had once been her entire world.
Not that she had any real idea when she would see him. Only that it was inevitable.
Grace pulled the thick cable-knit sweater tighter against the early morning mist as she walked along the shoreline with Willow.
The sweater had been her mom’s favorite and when she’d passed, Grace had kept it close for comfort.
The sand was cool and damp under her sneakers, the beach still mostly deserted except for a few determined gulls wheeling overhead and the occasional jogger cruising by.
“I only got a glimpse and it was dark. But he looks... different,” Grace said, the words feeling like a confession.
“And still the same.” She sighed. “I mean, I recognized him.” She glared out over the water.
“It’s a dirty trick for everything about the man to get more defined with age while I’m out here trying to keep my curls from exploding exponentially in the humidity. He has a beard.”
“So you’ve said.” Willow laughed, giving her a light elbow nudge. “Frizz or not, you’re as gorgeous as ever. But tell me more about Calvin. Preferably everything.”
“You know as much as I do,” Grace protested. “I never saw him again after I left Duke.”
And whose fault was that? Hers. He’d tried to stay in touch, but she couldn’t manage it. “He is the only time I’ve broken the no-tears in the boutique rule.”
Willow stopped short. “Seriously?”
Grace stopped too, nodding. “I broke up with him between customers about a month after I came home. It was a particularly bad day for mom and…”
“You don’t have to go there. I remember.”
“Well, he called while I was juggling a few friends who were having a blast and I just—” she swallowed.
“I couldn’t keep pretending I was going back to school.
I was rude. Told him it was over and ended the call.
Then, when I was alone again, I flipped the sign, went to the backroom and sobbed until I had to get home to Mom. ”
“Oh, Grace. I’m so sorry.” Willow slipped an arm around her shoulder. “How did he wind up as your tenant?”
“His firm signed a year-long lease, though I didn’t know he was connected until last night. You could’ve warned me,” she grumbled.
“I didn’t know,” Willow said. “I’ve only heard Levi reference the marketing firm. I had no idea Cal Lynwood was the brains behind it.”
“Fair enough.” They parted to walk around a tide pool. “But seeing him standing there last night... Willow, my heart did a weird, frantic stutter-step. It took me right back to our last date before everything fell apart.”
“The botanical gardens.”
“Of course you remember.” Grace tried to smile. “You’re the best.”
“As if I’d ever forget your happiest day.”
She’d done more than think of him last night; she dreamed about him.
It had been one of those treacherous, vivid dreams where the air was scented with his specific cologne—a blend of warm cedar and luxurious leather—and the weight of his hand on the small of her back felt more real than the pillow she’d woken up clutching.
In her dream, there was no cancer, no dropping out of college to care for her mother, no breakup, and no crushing loneliness in the aftermath. In the dream, they were brimming with hope, ideas, and laughter, ready to conquer the world. Together.
“I thought I was over him,” Grace murmured, watching the foamy edge of the waves dissolve near her feet. “I worked so hard to pack him away in a box labeled ‘Lessons Learned.’ I chose my mother. I chose Brookwell. I chose the shop. I don’t regret any of those choices.”
“You acted out of love,” Willow assured her. “Any other choice would’ve made you miserable.”
“True,” Grace allowed. “So why does a single glimpse of him make me feel like that carefree girl again—the one who believed our love was enough to overcome any challenge?”
“You were a kid, Grace. And that got ripped away too soon. You wound up carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders,” Willow reminded her.
“Cut my bestie some slack, please. Seeing him was obviously a surprise. I’d be concerned if it didn’t dredge up old feelings and a sense of what-if. Maybe this is a second chance.”
Grace snorted. “He’s probably married with half a dozen kids.”
Willow frowned. “It’s possible, I guess. He’s not a kid anymore either. He’s not a student scraping by. He’s a marketing executive with significant influence. Good grief, Levi Garrison is his number-one client.”
Grace heard the catch in Willow’s voice. “Oh, no. Don’t hold back intel now. What aren’t you telling me?”
Willow scrunched up her nose. “He’s here to help launch the Perk and the music festival,” she finished in a rush.
“What?” Grace gasped.
“The festival committee gave Levi a seat. Not full voting rights, but—”
She shoved her windblown hair away from her face. “You can’t be serious.”
Willow winced. “Calvin will fill that seat for Levi. You’re going to see him. A lot.”
Grace swore. This was a nightmare. Cal’s appearance wasn’t a limited-time chance encounter; it put them on a collision course. “I’m the outreach chair this year.”
“I know.”
The Beach Belle had held a seat on the coveted music festival committee for as long as Grace could recall.
As far as small-town politics went, the Brookwell music festival committee was second only to the community ownership of the historic Inn.
Even the officially elected town council seats were considered slightly less important.
“Thanks for the warning.” Grace tried to let go of the unfairness of it all. None of this was Willow’s fault. Tomorrow night was the first planning meeting for the upcoming festival and she assumed the announcement and introductions to the rest of the committee would be made at that time.
“Levi didn’t push,” Willow said. “It was offered.”
“I’m sure it was.” Grace heard the bitterness in her tone. “And that’s the right thing,” she added. “Your fiancé is a legendary entrepreneur with tremendous pull and resources.” She imagined that if Levi told people to buy tickets and come to Brookwell, they would come in droves.
Great for the community, but holy cow what a personal challenge.
Her role with outreach would be coordinating with local businesses for services, swag, and more.
On Levi’s behalf, Calvin was basically corporate muscle and would surely be recommending off-island vendors and suppliers.
She rubbed her temples. They were going to be locking horns in committee meetings for weeks.
Willow had gone quiet, a sure sign she was worried. “It’ll be fine,” Grace said. “I’ll be aloof,” she decided. “Cool and professional. The past is just that. We’re adults and I’ll behave accordingly.”
And if tomorrow night proved that spark of attraction wasn’t just a figment of her fond memories, she’d simply make sure to never be alone with Mr. Calvin Lynwood.
“Aloof, huh?” Willow arched an eyebrow, her gaze dropping. “Is that why you’re currently twisting your grandmother’s ring so hard your finger is turning purple?”
Grace stopped and looked down at her hands. She was a nervous wreck, her knuckles white as she gripped the gold band she habitually wore on her index finger.
“I’m afraid the old feelings will creep up on me,” Grace admitted.
“I just can’t let it happen. What if I look at him and forget that he’s the guy who wanted a life I couldn’t give him?
Nothing has changed but time. I have a business to run.
A house to maintain. A legacy to manage.
” Though she had no idea who she was managing that legacy for.
“Even if he’s not married with kids, I can’t afford to fall for a man who is only here because his client told him to be. ”
“Then don’t fall,” Willow reached out and gave Grace’s hand a gentle squeeze.
“Just stand your ground. The Beach Belle is essential to Brookwell. Coming in for that first dance dress is practically a rite of passage in this town. If he wants to get involved with this community, he has to do the heavy lifting. Not you.”
Grace took a deep breath, the salt air stinging her lungs was invigorating. Willow was right. She wasn’t that overwhelmed girl on the edge of sorrow anymore. She was a business owner with a clear vision. She was a caregiving survivor.
And the last Teague standing.
“Professional courtesy,” Grace muttered as they turned away from the water to cross the dunes. “That’s my focus.” She’d put blinders on to block out everything else.
But as Grace drove toward the Beach Belle twenty minutes later, her gaze kept drifting toward the upstairs windows.
The plantation shutters were closed, hiding whatever version of Calvin Lynwood was currently waking up in the apartment she’d always thought of as her secret place.
Her stomach did a slow, nervous flip, and she knew “aloof professional” was going to be the hardest role she ever had to play.