Chapter 2
The Inn at Seagrove had a dining room that could seat about thirty people comfortably, but right now it held twelve, and none of these people seemed capable of staying on topic for more than about thirty seconds.
Liza sat at the long oak table with a glass of sweet tea and a growing sense of amusement as she watched everything happening around her.
She’d been in Seagrove for only five days, but somehow she had ended up at a planning committee meeting for the annual summer festival.
She wasn’t totally sure how. One minute she’d been at the bookstore pricing picture books, and the next thing she knew, Dixie had handed her a flyer and said, “Be at the inn at six. Julie needs warm bodies.”
Julie was at the head of the table, and Liza could immediately see what Dixie had meant when she said Julie was on every committee the island had.
This woman was running the meeting while also answering a text, checking something on her laptop, and writing notes on a legal pad.
She had the energy of somebody who’d been running on caffeine and willpower for maybe six months straight.
“All right,” Julie said, clapping her hands once again. “We need to talk about the kids’ programming. Last year we had the face-painting booth and a sandcastle contest. I think we can do better than that.”
A man Liza didn’t recognize raised his hand. “My wife said she would do the face painting again.”
“That’s great, Roger, and tell Patty we appreciate her, but I’m thinking something bigger, more interactive, something that gets the kids moving all over town.”
Julie’s phone buzzed again. She looked at it, typed something with her thumb, and kept talking without even missing a beat.
“So that brings me to our two newest additions to the square. Liza, you’re helping revamp the children’s section at the bookstore. And Grant.” She looked across the table. “You’re opening a puzzle shop. And I think the two of you co-chairing the children’s activities would be absolutely perfect.”
Liza turned her head and realized Grant was sitting three chairs away with his arms crossed.
He looked like he had swallowed something unpleasant.
She hadn’t noticed him when she came in, which was surprising because he was one of the tallest people in the room.
But he had chosen the chair closest to the exit.
“Co-chair?” Grant repeated.
“It’ll be fun,” Julie said with the tone of somebody who had already decided it was happening no matter what anyone else thought. “So you two come up with something creative. Maybe a scavenger hunt or something. Puzzles, books. You know, kids love all that stuff.”
Liza watched Grant’s jaw tense. She, on the other hand, was already fighting the urge to pull out her phone and start planning.
“I don’t remember volunteering for this,” Grant said dryly.
Julie smiled. It was the kind of smile that was warm, but immovable. “And that’s why I did it for you. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”
From the corner of the room, Liza heard a familiar voice.
“You’ll thank her, or you’ll run. Either way, it’ll be entertaining.” Dixie sat in the armchair by the window with her braced wrist propped up on a pillow and a glass of wine in her good hand, looking like a queen surveying her court.
Across the table, Dawson looked at Julie. He didn’t say anything, but the look on his face said plenty. It was the same look Liza had seen on her own father’s face a thousand times when her mother had taken on one too many tasks that she didn’t have time for. Half admiration, half worry.
The meeting finished around 7:30 p.m., and people went off into small groups, talking about their booth assignments and how they would do parking.
Liza made her way to the front porch of the inn. The evening air was warm and heavy, as it often was in the Lowcountry. It smelled of the marsh.
Grant was already there, standing at the bottom of the steps, like he had been waiting for her. Maybe he was just trying to leave and she had gotten in his way. It was hard to tell with him.
“So,” she said. “Co-chairs?”
“Apparently,” he said.
She walked down the stairs and stood in front of him. He had such a serious face. Strong angles, thick jaw, the kind of mouth that looked like it had forgotten how to smile a long time ago and wasn’t actually interested in remembering.
“Look, I know you didn’t sign up for this,” she said. “I didn’t either, technically. But maybe it’ll be great. A scavenger hunt with clue cards and a new design. You can design the puzzles, and I’ll handle the reading stuff. We’ll send these kids all over town.”
“Or,” he interrupted, “we could just do something simple. Like a puzzle station. Just one little table with some activities. No costumes. No themes.”
She stared at him.
“What?” he asked.
“I was thinking we would do a pirate theme for the scavenger hunt. So the kids could follow a treasure map to all the different places in town, like shops and landmarks. They’ll stop at each one to solve a clue.
Then we can do eye patches. Oh my gosh, maybe even a parrot.
Like one of those stuffed ones. Obviously not a real… ”
“Why does everything have to be loud?” he asked.
The question stopped her in the middle of her sentence. Not because it was really rude- it wasn’t exactly- but because he’d said it like he really wanted to know. Like the concept of being loud was something he had been studying for a long time and still couldn’t make any sense of.
She looked at him for a moment. “Why does everything need to be quiet?”
He didn’t answer.
The sound of frogs started filling the space between them, and a breeze moved through the live oak trees, rustling the moss.
“Look, I’m not trying to take over,” she said, softening her voice. “I just think that we can make something really cool if we work together. With my planning skills and your puzzles, I mean, it could be the best thing at the festival.”
He put his hands in his pockets. She noticed that he did that quite a bit.
“I’ll think about it,” he said.
“That’s all I’m asking.”
He looked at her for just a second, and she swore something shifted in his eyes. Was it warmth? Not exactly. It was more like curiosity. Like there was the faintest little crack in the wall that was him.
Then he nodded once, turned around, and walked toward the parking area without even saying goodbye.
He never looked back.
Liza watched him walk like he was a man carrying something heavy and didn’t want anyone to notice.
The conversation hadn’t been a fight exactly. It was just like two weather systems meeting, one warm front, one cold front.
She stood there for just a minute, listening to the frogs and the distant sound of the ocean, and tried to figure out why this guy bothered her so much.
It wasn’t personal. She’d known him for a few days. She barely even knew him.
But there was something about the way he’d said no. Not in an angry or dismissive way, but like he was protecting something fragile behind that big wall of quiet.
And she kind of wanted to know what it was.
“Well, you two remind me of a crossword clue.”
Liza turned around and saw Dixie had suddenly appeared on the porch behind her, like a ghost with excellent timing.
“Four letters, starts with L,” Dixie said.
Liza squinted at her. “Loud?”
Dixie winked. “Okay, honey, sure. Let’s go with that.”
The next morning, Dixie appeared in the bookstore with a wrist brace.
“Sprained,” she announced, dropping her purse on the counter.
“It ain’t broken. It ain’t fractured. It’s just sprained.
My doctor said I have to rest it for up to three weeks, which is just hilarious to me because he doesn’t understand how retail works.
I doubt he’s ever worked in a retail store a day in his life. ”
Liza looked up from the children’s section. She’d been measuring the wall for a potential mural by a local artist.
“Three weeks? Oh my gosh, Dixie, you can’t run this place with just one hand. And Julie’s far too busy.”
“Oh, I most certainly can. I’ve been running this place with one hand, one eye, and half a brain for over thirty years.”
“Well, that explains the children’s section,” Liza said, laughing.
Dixie pointed at her with her good hand. “Now you watch it.”
She was smiling as she eased herself into the chair behind the register.
Liza noticed the way she cradled the brace against her stomach and the way her face scrunched up when she moved the wrong way. The sprain was clearly worse than Dixie was letting on.
And it wasn’t just that. Dixie had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s several years ago, and Liza had never quite stopped worrying about it. And while she was doing well on her medication and physical therapy, the disease was definitely progressing. It was just part of the disease.
And the fact that her husband also had it didn’t make things any easier.
She knew Dixie struggled with things. She never stopped smiling and joking — that was the curtain she put up — but Liza knew it had to be hard.
“Now, Liza, I’m going to ask you something, and darling, you can say no, okay?
Would you consider just staying here a little bit longer?
And I don’t mean forever, just maybe a few more weeks through the festival.
Help me run the store while I heal this thing up.
” She held up her wrist. “I’ll pay you, of course, and you can keep staying in the apartment. ”
Liza set down the measuring tape.
She’d been here for a few days. The plan was two weeks. Staying longer meant she’d have a bigger gap in her résumé. She’d have to keep lying to her mother, and she’d have to keep extending that period of time where she had no idea what she was going to do with the rest of her life.
But it also meant more time in a place she loved, more time away from a big inbox full of emails from recruiters that she couldn’t bear to open, more time in a bookstore that smelled like vanilla and felt like Grandma’s living room.
“You don’t have to decide today,” Dixie said.
“Yes,” Liza blurted out.