Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
KRISTA
Tuesday, Day Five of the Summer Swap: The Last Day
After their adventurous hike that neither would be forgetting anytime soon, they went back to the campground together. Krista was determined for Joe to sample her cowboy coffee, and Joe promised her a rustic, homemade breakfast that “even Kit would be proud of.”
He took a sip, eyebrows lifting. “Impressive. You’ve mastered it.”
“Well,” Krista said, aiming for modest and missing by a mile, “I did have an excellent teacher.”
Joe ducked into his tent and emerged with a frying pan and the grocery bag he’d brought earlier. He lined the contents up on the picnic table, the cooking spray, pancake mix, blueberries…and a large canister of whipped cream.
Krista raised her eyebrows.
Joe’s mouth twitched. “What?”
“You did that on purpose.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said.
Krista reached for the canister. “Uh-huh. ”
He grabbed it first, clearly fighting a grin. “I just thought…since we liked whipped cream so much.”
Krista nearly choked on her coffee. “Joe.” She quickly looked around, making sure Gramps wasn’t suddenly in earshot.
He finally broke, laughing into his cup. “What? It’s a valid point.”
“Oh? Shall I bring it over to my place tonight?” she asked sweetly. “It is the last night of the swap after all. We should celebrate.”
Joe visibly swallowed. His expression gave him away—what he was imagining looked very little like pancakes.
“Whipped cream it is,” Krista said, satisfied, plucking the canister from his hands.
He tapped the side of his cup. “Alright. Real question. Did you finish the food series yesterday?”
“I think so.” She absently licked a smear of cream from her thumb. “I want to read through it again and see if anything needs tightening.”
She pointed her fork at him. “Don’t you have responsibilities today, Campground Hero?”
“I do,” Joe said, counting off on his fingers. “Finish inventory. Order supplies for the shop. Then I told Walt I’d cover the office so he can take care of Alice.”
Krista blinked. “Listen to you. You’re practically management.”
Joe shrugged like it was nothing, but there was pride in it. “Walt asked. I said yes.”
For a second, Krista just watched him—this man who’d shown up with a camera and a rental car and somehow folded himself into her world like he’d always belonged there.
“Okay,” she said, reaching for the pancake mix. “I’ll head into town. Maybe the library or the bookshop to polish my article while you handle the campground before your shift at the Hideaway. ”
Krista couldn’t imagine that she was going to sit down and write the day away, but she was surprisingly looking forward to it.
“Yes, ma’am,” Joe said, and the words slid over her skin like the strike of a match. “Anything else you want assigned?”
Her imagination, unhelpfully vivid, supplied plaid skirts and detention slips. It was going to be a long stretch until they saw each other again at the Cocktail Club that night.
“No,” she said lightly. “I guess I’ll just grade you tonight.”
Joe turned fully toward her, eyes locking on hers.
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
That evening, Krista lingered near the edge of the Hideaway, pretending not to watch Joe finish out his final shift.
He had less than thirty minutes left. Then he’d be off the clock, the Cocktail Club would officially begin, and the swap would slide into its last night.
Zach and Liam would likely roll in any minute.
Maybe Kit, too. Elsie had promised to stop by for one final swap photo—and to announce the donation total.
Krista tried to focus on that. On the good the money would do.
Alice was home now, stubbornly refusing the rehab facility.
She insisted they couldn’t afford it—even though her mobility was still limited and the cabin had become an obstacle course with a walker.
The steep porch steps, unforgiving stairs, and the narrow bathroom doorway might as well have been built to keep her out.
Robyn was arriving tomorrow and staying awhile. The trip had been planned for weeks, but the timing couldn’t have been better.
Across the room, Joe wiped down the bar, laughing at something a customer said. He moved easily now—like he belonged behind that counter, like he had always been part of Maple Falls.
He hadn’t said exactly when he was leaving.
Krista clung to the long-distance plan like it was a life raft. Because if she let herself believe he might be leaving forever—if she pictured the Hideaway without him, the campground without his truck, mornings without his smile?—
She’d fall apart.
“You guys want a drink?” Krista called over to her friends who were lingering at the far end of the bar like they were waiting for a curtain to rise.
“Um, maybe in a minute? I’m not sure what I want,” Madison said.
Krista tilted her head. Madison always knew what she wanted. But she let it go and turned back to take inventory of syrups and ice cream. Supplies were running low. She’d need to restock soon.
“Perfect. You’re both here.” Elsie swept in less than ten minutes later. “We need one final swap shot before the sun goes down. Five minutes, max. The algorithm waits for no one,” Elsie said gravely.
“You heard the boss,” Madison called from the other end of the bar, already stepping in. “Go be famous.”
Elsie slowly surveyed the Hideaway. “We’ve done plenty in here.
” She shook her head. “No, I want something different.” Her gaze shifted left, where lights and laughter floated from Hidden Hills.
“What if we shoot at the campground? So much of the swap happened there. And we’ve been raising money to help your grandparents keep it afloat. ”
Krista blinked. “Now?”
“Yes, now. Golden hour. Storytelling. Branding. All the things.” Elsie gestured toward the dock. “Come on. Joe, grab your camera. Cassidy, Madison—hold down the fort. ”
Joe pushed away from the bar and found Krista’s eyes. “What do you say? One more photo op?”
She exhaled. “Fine. Five minutes. Then we’re back for Cocktail Club.”
They headed out together, Elsie walking backward down the path, snapping photos as she went.
“Elsie, we do not need photos of me walking,” Krista said.
Click.
“The people want authenticity.”
Krista rolled her eyes, though her hand brushed Joe’s as they passed the main campground drive. Instead of turning toward Walt and Alice’s cabin or the little swim beach, Elsie veered onto the narrower path that cut through the trees.
“I figured we’d grab something down by the lake. Very ‘iconic Maple Falls summer,’” she said casually.
The branches arched overhead, swallowing the last of the road noise. The path curved toward the far southern edge of the campground—the tucked-away clearing they usually saved for big bonfires and community events. It was well out of sight from the office and cabins.
“Why are we going all the way down here?” Krista protested. “Couldn’t we just?—”
“Trust the process,” Elsie said mysteriously.
Krista frowned. “Those are some of my least favorite words.”
“Just humor her,” Joe murmured, falling into step beside her. His hand brushed the small of her back, warm and steady.
The trees thinned.
The beach came into view.
And Krista stopped.
Fairy lights were strung from trees to dock posts, glowing soft against the deepening blue of early evening.
Mason jars lined the path, tea lights flickering in the breeze.
A small, makeshift stage stood near the water, where a guitarist played something easy and warm.
Tables were scattered across the sand and grass, draped in mismatched cloths, dotted with jars of wildflowers.
And people. So many people.
Campers. Locals. Friends.
Mrs. Bishop and Mrs. C. sat front and center with frosty margaritas. Mayor Bloomfield wore a blindingly pink jacket with matching shorts. Kit waved from behind a table piled with cupcakes that Emma was helping to set up. Zoe and Jackson stood near the dock, fingers intertwined.
Walt stood near the porch ramp. Alice was in her wheelchair beside him, a light blanket over her lap.
In the center of it all, a banner hung between two trees, painted in Elsie’s looping, cheerful script: Maple Falls Summer Swap Party
Krista couldn’t make her feet move.
“What…?” The word came out thin. “What is all this?”
Joe’s smile was soft at the edges. “Surprise,” he said.
Elsie darted ahead, hopped onto the makeshift stage, and grabbed the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen of Maple Falls and unsuspecting campers who just wanted a quiet evening,” she called, her voice booming through the portable speaker, “welcome to the first—though hopefully not last—Maple Falls Summer Swap Party!”
The crowd cheered.
Krista stood rooted in the sand, overwhelmed, until Joe’s hand found hers and gently tugged. “C’mon, Queen Bee,” he murmured. “We’re on.”
They wove through the crowd, collecting shoulder squeezes and hugs. Elsie reached down to haul Krista up onto the stage. Joe climbed up beside her, steadying her with a warm hand at her waist.
“Okay, Maple Falls,” Elsie continued, “for the past week, we’ve watched these two maniacs swap lives. We’ve seen Krista’s mouth-watering food photography, Joe surviving shifts at the Hot Honey Hideaway, Joe demonstrating the correct way not to paddleboard…”
“Hey!” Joe called.
Laughter rippled outward.
“These two made one heck of a dynamic duo,” Elsie said, her tone softening. “But we didn’t just do this for dares and hashtags. We did it to help two people who’ve poured their hearts into this town for decades—Walt and Alice—and to keep Hidden Hills campground buzzing for years to come.”
Krista’s throat tightened.
“We couldn’t have done any of this without our sponsors,” Elsie went on, sweeping her arm wide, “and without you, every business that donated, every person who ordered one more Hot Honey Margarita or booked one more kayak rental because you saw some ridiculous video I posted.”
More cheers. Someone whistled. From the back, Kit yelled, “We love you, Elsie!”
“On that note,” Elsie said, turning. “Mayor Bloomfield, would you do us the honors?”
The mayor stepped forward, holding an oversized check.
The number hit Krista like a wave.
Her vision blurred. That many zeros. That many actual dollars that could go toward a porch ramp. Grab bars in the bathroom. Insurance premiums. Extra home-care hours so Walt could take a moment.
It was enough for her grandparents to be comfortable and that’s all that mattered to Krista.
“Oh,” she whispered.
Applause swelled around them, but it sounded far away. Relief and gratitude and something close to hope rushed through her, hot and overwhelming.
It didn’t magically fix everything. There still wasn’t enough of her to go around, not between the Hideaway, the campground, her grandparents, and the tiny little ache in her chest that wanted…more.
But the check meant time. Breathing room.
The chance not to sell to the first Hideaway buyer waving cash and a demolition plan.
And for that, she was so achingly grateful.
She blinked hard, fighting back tears, and glanced at Joe.
He was looking at her, not the check, a broad, proud smile lighting his face.
Mayor Bloomfield spoke—something about community, resilience, how he was “deeply honored to present this to the Valente family on behalf of Maple Falls”—but Krista only caught pieces.
She accepted the check beside Walt, cameras flashing.
After the photos and handshakes, she walked away to talk to Gram.
Alice noticed her approach and blinked, focus sharpening. “Honey?” she said.
Krista crouched beside her, sinking into the sand so they were eye level. She reached for Alice’s hand, folding her fingers around it the way she had as a kid.
“Hi, Gram.”
Alice studied her. “You’re shaking,” she murmured. “Are you alright?”
Krista tried to smile. It wobbled. “I am. I just…” She swallowed, pressing Alice’s hand to her cheek for a second. “I wanted to tell you something.”
Alice’s grip tightened around Krista’s, not strong, but steady. “About my mother,” she said quietly.
Krista nodded. Her chest ached. “She ran away because she fell in love. A kind of love that made her brave, and reckless.”
A faint smile touched Alice’s mouth. “Ah, so a young love.”
“Exactly. They hid out in a cave by the lake for a month before coming home. There’s more to the story.
I don’t have it all figured out. I don’t know why they cut their planned escape short.
Or what happened to the engagement her family had planned.
Or how she ended up with Great-Grandpa. But I’ll keep going, until I uncover it all. ”
“Oh, I know you will, honey,” Alice whispered. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Gram.”
Now that the formal part of the night was finished, someone turned the music up.
Kids darted between camp chairs with glow sticks, like the fireflies that flitted in the tall grass at the edge of the clearing.
The air smelled like citronella, lake water, and grilled something from a portable barbecue.
“Okay!” Elsie shouted over the din. “Who wants a cocktail?”
Krista turned—and laughed.
Madison and Cassidy were hauling over crates from the Hideaway filled with tequila, hot honey syrup, shakers, citrus, salt. They’d brought the bar to the beach.
Krista climbed back onto the stage and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hot Honey Margaritas on the house!”
That earned the loudest cheer of the night.
Beside her, Joe leaned close, his shoulder brushing hers. “You sure you want to promise that? That’s a lot of cocktails.”
She looked up at him. The fairy lights caught in his brown eyes, turning them molten. “It’s the least I can do,” she said.
Joe’s mouth tipped into a smile, but his gaze stayed steady. “Alright then. Tell me what you need—salt rims, limes, shaker duty. I’ve got you.”
Something in her chest loosened. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he said, voice low. “Always.”