Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
JOE
Sunday, Day Three of the Summer Swap
By early afternoon, the Hideaway had settled into that lull between the caffeine rush and the cocktail crowd. A few regulars lingered on the patio, sipping iced lattes and letting the warm sun soak into their shoulders, while bumblebees meandered, enjoying the summer like everyone else.
On the deck, two teenagers argued good-naturedly over whose turn it was to man the kayak shed that stood in the blazing heat. Joe made a mental note to set up a fan for them—something battery-operated.
He wiped down the counter and tried to pretend he knew what he was doing while the espresso machine behind him hissed in short, impatient bursts.
“Okay,” he said, eyeing the order slips Ian had just slapped down. “One honey latte, one iced mocha, two lemonades, and…what in the world is a ‘Maple Bee Freeze’?”
Ian, who was now leaning against the back counter scrolling on his phone, looked up. “It’s like a blended maple milkshake with honey whipped cream. Krista invented it. People are obsessed.”
“Of course they are,” Joe muttered. “Alright. Maple Bee Freeze. Hit me.”
Ian rattled off the steps, pointing to syrups, soft-serve, blender. Joe followed, trying not to think about the last time he’d heard that blender grind and how he’d been moments from a small kitchen explosion.
He finished the drinks, the bumblebee art looking more like an uneven butterfly, and slid them across to a waiting family. The mom took a sip of the Maple Bee Freeze and closed her eyes like she’d just seen an angel.
“Place looks good,” an older man’s voice said, walking around the corner.
Joe looked up, ready with a welcome, but the words shifted automatically when he saw who it was.
“Hey, Walt,” he said.
Krista’s grandfather stepped up to the bar, moving a little slower than usual. He wore his usual plaid shirt and work boots, but his shoulders seemed heavier, his cap held in his hand instead of perched on his head.
“Afternoon, son,” Walt said. His gaze swept the dock, pausing on the menu board, the stacked cups, the lake just beyond. “Sure looks busy.”
“Just a bit,” Joe agreed. “Can I get you something? Coffee? Honey latte? I can’t promise you the perfect bumblebee art, but I’ll give it a go.”
Walt hesitated. “You got regular coffee?” he asked. “None of that foam nonsense here.”
Joe glanced at Ian.
Ian lifted a pot from the warmer. “We keep a ‘Walt brew’ on hand,” he said. “Krista’s orders.”
Joe poured the coffee and offered him the cream.
“Come sit,” Walt said, after doctoring his coffee. He nodded toward a small table off to the side, cast in the shade from the bar area. “Ian, you good up here for a few?”
“I got you,” Ian said, already stepping into the gap.
Joe carried the mug over. Walt lowered himself into the chair with a small grunt, hand braced on the table.
“You alright?” Joe asked.
“Fine,” Walt said automatically. Then he seemed to reconsider, his gaze drifting to the water. “Truth is, I’m tired.”
Joe sat across from him, arms resting on his knees. “It’s been a week.”
“That’s one word for it,” Walt said. He wrapped his hands around the mug, staring into the steam. “Doc says they’ll keep Alice for a bit. Then rehab. Then…who knows?”
There was a weight in his voice that hadn’t been there before. Joe let the silence sit for a second, the soft clink of spoons and murmur of conversation filling in around them.
“They say she’ll walk again,” Walt went on. “With help. With time. But they’re talking ramps, handrails, grab bars, maybe one of those lift chairs for the porch steps.” He huffed out a humorless laugh. “And every time they say ‘maybe,’ I see dollar signs.”
Joe’s chest tightened. “Insurance…?”
“Covers some,” Walt said. “Not near all. And that’s just the house.
Campground’s another story.” He stared past Joe now, out to the lake.
“It was one thing when I could still do most of it. Fix the pipes, clear the lines, haul the firewood. But I’m slowing down, son.
Been pretending I’m not, but…there it is. ”
Joe didn’t rush to fill the space. He knew that if you stayed quiet long enough, the words found their way out.
Sure enough, Walt’s fingers tightened around the mug.
“I don’t want Krista’s life to turn into supporting us,” he said quietly.
“She’s running herself ragged—the Hideaway, the campground, checking on us.
She’s twenty-nine. She shouldn’t be selling this place, her dream.
” His mouth tightened. “And she should be out doing whatever girls her age do. Preferably something that doesn’t involve spreadsheets and stress. ”
“Girls her age,” Joe echoed, a corner of his mouth twitching. “Pretty sure she’d take you out for calling her a girl.”
“Woman,” Walt corrected. “Stubborn, wild-hearted woman who thinks she can hold up the whole damn town by herself.”
He finally looked Joe dead in the eye. There was something probing there. It was like he was measuring him.
“You care about her,” Walt said.
“I do,” he said without hesitation.
Walt nodded, like that matched whatever math he’d been doing in his head. “You got somewhere to be after this job of yours is done?” he asked. “Another story to chase?”
“I always have somewhere to be,” Joe said. He tried to keep it light. “Perks and curses of the job.”
“Right.” Walt shook his head.
Joe had never felt more like a disappointment to someone in his life.
“It means a lot to her,” Joe said quietly. “This place. Both places.”
“I know,” Walt said. “That’s why I’m scared.”
Joe didn’t have an easy answer for that.
So he did the only thing he could. He listened.
Walt talked about the early years, how he and Alice had built the campground from dirt and dreams, how the camp store had once been a shed with a cooler and a jar of honey.
He talked about bees and storms and what it was like when Krista moved in with them when she was sixteen.
They sat like that for a while, coffee growing cold, the afternoon sun high and bright over the lake.
Joe heard Elsie’s high heels on the deck boards before he saw her.
“Oh Valerio!” she sang.
She breezed in on a wave of floral perfume and enthusiasm, her tote bag slung over one shoulder, phone already in hand .
“Good afternoon to you too,” Joe said.
She snapped a quick photo of him and Walt at the table before he could protest.
“Perfect,” she said. “Love the intergenerational vibe. Walt, you look very ‘wise patriarch considering the fate of the family legacy.’”
“That’s because I am,” Walt said dryly.
Elsie’s expression flickered. “How’s Alice?” she asked more gently.
“Ornery,” Walt said. “Which I take as a good sign.”
“Good,” Elsie said. “We like her that way.”
She turned her focus back to Joe, thumbs flying across her screen.
“Alright, listen. The Summer Swap content is exploding. Between your bumblebee art and Krista braving the tent storm, people are hooked. I posted the Hot Honey Margarita video and Mrs. Bishop’s commentary alone got seven thousand views. ”
“Is that…a lot?” Joe asked.
“For Maple Falls? It’s practically viral,” Elsie said.
“And the fundraiser link? Cha-ching.” She spun the phone around so he could see a graph climbing steadily.
“We crossed three thousand last night. The Cinnamon Spice Inn is going to sponsor again. Liam’s farm shop is offering a percentage of jam sales for the weekend.
Tyler, Meg’s new assistant at the bookshop, is talking about a ‘Swap Shelf’ and donating a cut. ”
Walt let out a low whistle. “Well, I’ll be.”
Hope flickered in Joe’s chest.
Only, three thousand was a lot.
But not nearly enough.
Elsie must have read something in his face, because her manic energy gentled. “Hey,” she said. “This is good news.”
“It is,” Joe said. “I just…know a little more now about what they’re up against. ”
Elsie’s smile dimmed. “Yeah. I figured. My mom’s already gossip-looped it into the church prayer chain.”
Walt snorted. “Can’t put anything past Maple Falls, can you?”
“Nope,” Elsie said. “But that might be a good thing.”
She took a breath, shoulders squaring a little. “Okay. So. I actually came by because I had an idea. I was going to pitch it to Krista, but since she’s with Alice, you get to be my test audience.”
“Go on,” Joe said.
“Picture this,” Elsie said, eyes lighting up.
“Maple Falls Summer Swap: The Party. We string lights between the trees, set up the patio and dock, do live music—probably a guitar, maybe even open mic. Special edition hot honey cocktails, raffles with prizes from all the local businesses. Entry by donation. All proceeds to you, Walt, and Alice. For her care, and the Hidden Hills campground. We hype it up the next two days. Go out with a bang on the final night.”
“People would come,” Walt said slowly. “They’d give what they could.”
“They will,” Elsie said. “I don’t have a lot of time, but I think we need to go for it. We make it an event. ‘One Night Only: Help Keep Hidden Hills Buzzing.’ Bees, honey, you know I live for a theme.”
Joe let out a breath. “Do it,” he said.
Elsie blinked. “That’s it? No tweaks?”
“One tweak. Let’s make it a surprise for Krista. I don’t want her stressing out, thinking she has to organize anything. She has enough going on.”
Elsie’s expression softened in a way that made him vaguely uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to people looking at him that way.
“You really like her,” she said quietly. “Krista. ”
He felt the tips of his ears go hot. “This is about Walt and Alice, too,” he said.
“Mmhmm,” Elsie said. “Alright. Prints. Raffle baskets. Live music. Party. I can work with that.”
She tapped rapidly on her phone, muttering. “Okay, I’ll mock up a graphic, talk to Kit about a special menu, see if Zoe will donate a bouquet or two for prizes.”
Elsie leaned over and squeezed his shoulder. “You’re a good one, Valerio,” she said. “Gonna miss you when you leave.”
“Yeah,” Joe replied, unwilling to admit how much he was going to miss everyone in Maple Falls, too.
The Hideaway settled back into its hum. Ian called out that they were low on lemonade. A kid begged for an extra cherry on his sundae. Somewhere out on the dock, a paddleboat bumped against its rope.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it at first. Then it buzzed again.
Joe pulled it out and glanced at the screen. It was Marcus.
You ready to fly out yet? Got you a flight for Friday. Call me.
The phone felt heavy in Joe’s palm. He couldn’t think about leaving, not right now. Not when he felt like he was needed here.
He wondered if that’s what Krista always felt like.
Walt studied him for a beat. “You don’t have to fix this,” he said. “Any of it.”
“I know,” Joe said. “But I want to help. And I can, for a little while.”