Chapter 7
Emily stood at her cottage window and watched Winnie arrange platters of food on the courtyard table. The warm glow of string lights illuminated the gathering space, making it look inviting and intimate. Too intimate.
She could still back out. No one would notice if she simply stayed inside with the curtains drawn and the lights off. They’d assume she was tired, busy, or simply not interested in socializing.
But Melissa had invited her. That awkward, tentative invitation had created an obligation she couldn’t quite shake. She imagined Melissa arriving, looking for her, wondering if Emily had deliberately avoided her.
Emily took a deep breath and stepped outside into the warm evening air.
The courtyard was more crowded than she’d expected.
Several residents she recognized from the cottages mingled near the fire pit, while others were scattered throughout the space.
Strangers. People from town, perhaps. This wasn’t just a small gathering of cottage residents. This was a community event.
She crossed the courtyard slowly, acutely aware of how exposed she felt. Every face turned her direction felt like a spotlight, and every pause in conversation a potential judgment. She smoothed her hands down her shorts.
Then she spotted Melissa standing near the edge of the gathering, arms crossed, looking equally uncomfortable. Her camera was conspicuously absent. Relief flooded through her. At least she wasn’t the only one who looked like she’d rather be anywhere else.
“You came,” Emily said as she approached.
Melissa shifted her weight from foot to foot. “I said I would, though I’m already regretting it.”
“Same.” She managed a small smile. “How long do we have to stay before it’s polite to leave?”
“I was thinking twenty minutes. Maybe thirty if Winnie corners us.” Melissa’s mouth twitched. “She has this way of making you want to please her. It’s annoying.”
“I’ve noticed.” She glanced toward Winnie, who was laughing with a group near the fire pit. “She invited me with this look that said she knew I’d say no, but she was asking anyway.”
“And here you are.”
“Here I am.”
They positioned themselves strategically near the food table, close enough to appear engaged but far enough from the fire pit to avoid being pulled into conversations. Emily picked up a plate she didn’t want and studied the offerings with unnecessary concentration.
“Emily Shaw!” A cheerful voice cut through the ambient conversations. “I was hoping you’d be here.”
Emily turned to find Sally Morris from the general store weaving through the crowd, carrying a covered dish. Her warm smile was genuine and unguarded. She reached the food table and set down her contribution before pulling Winnie into an easy embrace.
“Sally, you didn’t have to bring anything.” Winnie squeezed her friend’s shoulders. “You know that.”
“And miss showing off my new recipe? Not a chance. Besides, I’ve been coming to these gatherings for years. I know the rules.” Sally’s laugh was infectious.
This was what community looked like. What belonging felt like. She’d had that once in Chicago, before everything fell apart.
Sally turned her attention to Emily, her expression softening. “How are you settling in? Finding everything you need?”
“Yes, thank you. The cottage is perfect.” She managed what she hoped was a convincing smile.
“Starfish was always my favorite.” Sally uncovered her dish, revealing what looked like a layered dip. “The last tenant stayed for nearly two years. Sweet woman, not a painter, but she loved that studio. Made it into a nice little sitting room.” She turned to Melissa. “And how are you, dear?”
Melissa gave a noncommittal nod and a brief smile.
Winnie touched Sally’s arm. “Come help me grab some more food from my cottage?”
Sally followed Winnie across the courtyard, leaving Emily and Melissa in their strategic corner once more. Emily picked up a cracker she didn’t want and studied the crowd with renewed determination to appear engaged.
The door to Driftwood Cottage opened, and Clint emerged into the courtyard. He paused on his porch for a moment, surveying the gathering with the same expression Emily imagined she’d worn earlier. Reluctance radiated from every line of his posture.
He descended the steps and crossed to the food table as though he had a specific mission to complete before he could retreat. His gaze swept past Emily and Melissa with a brief nod that somehow managed to be both polite and dismissive.
Melissa stiffened beside her.
Clint grabbed a beer from the cooler and twisted off the cap. The movement was practiced and automatic. He took a long drink and swept his gaze across the courtyard, but he deliberately avoided looking at Melissa.
Sally returned with Winnie, both carrying additional trays. Clint positioned himself near Winnie.
Emily watched the way he angled his body slightly toward his aunt. Protective. Vigilant. Like he was standing guard rather than attending a social gathering. Winnie seemed oblivious to his hovering, or perhaps she’d simply grown accustomed to it over the years.
Sally pulled Clint into their conversation with the ease of someone who’d known him since childhood. She said something that made Winnie laugh, then touched Clint’s arm with casual affection.
His shoulders dropped slightly. Not much, but enough that Emily noticed. He managed a small smile at whatever Sally had said, though his expression remained guarded.
Emily recognized that careful relaxation. The way you could appear engaged while maintaining emotional distance. The art of being present without actually being vulnerable. She’d perfected that skill herself over the past year.
Clint’s gaze drifted toward their corner of the courtyard. Melissa studied her plate with sudden intensity. The tension between them was evident even from across the space.
Winnie clapped her hands together, the sound cutting through the various conversations scattered around the courtyard. “Everyone, gather around the fire pit for a moment.”
The crowd shifted, forming a loose circle around the flames. Emily found herself pulled along with the movement, glad to feel Melissa beside her. She positioned herself slightly behind a taller man, hoping to maintain some anonymity in the group.
“I wanted to take a moment to welcome our newest resident.” Winnie’s warm gaze swept across the gathering before landing on Emily. “This is Emily, who’s staying in Starfish Cottage.”
Everyone turned toward her, and she managed a small wave that felt awkward and insufficient. A few people said, “Hi, Emily.” Then the silence stretched just long enough to become uncomfortable.
Sally stepped forward, her smile as natural as breathing. “Emily, I’ve been meaning to ask. What brought you to Starlight Shores? We don’t get many visitors this early in the season.”
The question was innocent enough, but Emily’s mind raced through possible answers. The truth was too complicated and too raw. She settled for something vague and hopefully believable. “I needed somewhere quiet to work. The lighthouse cottages seemed perfect.”
“What kind of work do you do?” someone asked from across the circle.
“I’m an… artist.” The words felt foreign on her tongue. Was she still an artist if she hadn’t touched a brush in months?
Melissa’s voice cut through her spiral of doubt. “Creative work requires solitude. You can’t produce anything meaningful when you’re constantly interrupted.”
She glanced at her, surprised by the unexpected support. Melissa’s expression remained indifferent, but she didn’t look away.
Emily nodded. “That’s true. Sometimes you need space to figure out what you’re trying to say.”
“Or remember why you wanted to say it in the first place,” Melissa added quietly.
A moment of understanding passed between them.
Clint stood across the circle, his beer halfway to his mouth. He lowered it slowly, his gaze moving between Emily and Melissa with what looked like genuine interest rather than his usual guardedness.
The conversation shifted to safer topics.
She heard snippets of discussion about the upcoming Harbor Festival, concerns about coastal erosion, and someone’s recent fishing expedition.
She let the voices wash over her, grateful to fade back into the crowd’s periphery.
The tension in her shoulders eased slightly as attention moved elsewhere.
Gradually, the gathering began to disperse. People drifted toward the food table for final helpings or stood in small clusters finishing conversations. The energy shifted from communal to intimate as the crowd broke into smaller, more natural groupings.
Sally wrapped Winnie in a warm embrace near the fire pit. “Same time next week?”
“Of course. Thank you for coming.”
“Thank you for always making space for us.” Sally pulled back, her eyes bright with affection. “This place has always been special because of you.”
Emily watched the exchange from her position near the food table.
That easy intimacy, the history between them evident in every gesture, was beautiful and painful all at once.
She’d had friendships like that in Chicago.
People she’d known for years, shared meals with, and trusted completely.
Until the scandal hit, and those same people stopped returning her calls.
Sally waved goodbye to the remaining guests and headed toward the parking area. Others followed her lead, offering thanks to Winnie and friendly farewells to neighbors. The courtyard emptied in comfortable waves until only a handful of people remained.
Clint emerged from Driftwood Cottage with a large plastic bin and began collecting empty bottles and stray plates. His movements were efficient, like someone who’d done this routine countless times. Winnie joined him with another container, and they worked in tandem without needing to coordinate.
Winnie stacked paper plates. “You don’t have to do that tonight. It can wait until morning.”
“Takes five minutes now.” Clint dumped bottles into the recycling bin with a satisfying clatter. “Besides, you know you’ll be out here at dawn if I don’t.”
“I would not.”
He smiled. “You absolutely would. Remember last month when you tried to move that table by yourself?”
Winnie waved a dismissive hand. “That table was lighter than it looked.”
“It took three of us to carry it out here in the first place.”
Their easy rapport was evident in every exchange. The way Clint anticipated what Winnie needed before she asked, and the way she accepted his help without making him feel like he was hovering. She felt a pang of longing for that kind of comfortable connection.
Melissa shifted beside her, drawing Emily’s attention back to their corner near the food table. They’d somehow ended up as the last non-family members in the courtyard, two women who’d spent the evening hiding in plain sight.
“Well,” Melissa said after a moment, “that wasn’t completely terrible.”
Emily managed a small laugh. “High praise.”
Melissa’s expression softened slightly. “I mean it. I expected worse. Thanks for showing up. Made it easier having someone else who looked like they’d rather be anywhere else.”
“Same.” She glanced toward the fire pit, where Winnie and Clint continued their cleanup routine. “Though I think we might have been the only ones feeling that way.”
“Probably. Everyone else seemed perfectly comfortable.”
“Maybe they’ve had more practice.”
Melissa picked up her empty water bottle. “Or maybe they’re better at pretending. Either way, we survived.”
“We did.” She felt a slight shift. “Does it get easier? The gatherings, I mean.”
“I don’t know. I’ve only been here a few months, and I still feel like an outsider most of the time. I rarely come to these get-togethers.” She paused. “But Winnie keeps inviting me anyway. I think she’s either incredibly patient or incredibly stubborn.”
“Both, probably.”
“Definitely both.” Melissa laughed. “I should go. Early morning shoot tomorrow if the light cooperates.”
“Good luck with it.”
Melissa nodded and headed toward Captain’s Watch. Emily watched her go, then realized she was truly the last guest remaining. Winnie and Clint had finished their cleanup and were talking quietly near the fire pit, their voices too low to hear, but their body language was relaxed and familiar.
“Emily.” Winnie’s voice carried across the courtyard. “Don’t you dare leave without taking some leftovers.”
Emily crossed to where Winnie stood holding a container already packed with food. “You don’t have to—”
“I absolutely do. Otherwise, Clint will eat nothing but Sally’s dip for the next three days, and I refuse to enable that kind of behavior.” Winnie pressed the container into Emily’s hands. “Besides, I saw how little you ate tonight. You need proper fuel.”
“Thank you.” She accepted the offering. “And thank you for inviting me. It was... nice.”
“You’re welcome anytime. Same time next week?”
She hesitated only a moment before nodding. “Same time next week.”
She walked back to Starfish Cottage with the container of leftovers and paused at her door to glance back at the courtyard.
Winnie and Clint still stood near the dying fire, their conversation unhurried and easy.
The string lights emitted a warm glow over the space, making it look like something from a painting.
She’d survived her first community gathering. More than survived. She’d actually connected with Melissa, however tentatively. She’d managed polite conversation with Sally and hadn’t completely fallen apart when Winnie introduced her to the group.
Maybe staying here wasn’t impossible after all.
She unlocked her door and stepped inside, setting the container on the small kitchen counter. The cottage felt less like a hiding place than it had that morning. Less like a temporary refuge and more like... what? She wasn’t ready to call it home. But maybe somewhere she could breathe for a while.