Chapter Nineteen
Ignoring the man fixing my shop was not the most mature thing I’d done. For all I knew, Marigold’s could’ve been in shambles. He could have sold everything inside and taken whatever cash was left in the register. But, although I would’ve never admitted it, I knew Rhett Briggs better than that.
I moved to knock on the door, then shook my head at my silliness and wrenched it open.
It didn’t put up a fight—instead, it swung without a single creak or groan. I was so distracted by the door that Easton whined and lurched right out of my grasp.
By the time he was barreling into the back of Rhett’s legs, it was too late. Slamming the door shut, I ran after him and clapped my hand over my mouth as they went toppling to the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” I was muttering, watching in mildly amused horror as Easton writhed in his arms and licked his cheek.
“This feels oddly familiar,” Rhett replied, a boyish grin on his face as he sat upright and cradled my sixty pound dog.
A flush of embarrassment crept up my neck. “You’re not very safe with us, are you?”
“No.” He peered up at me, his baseball hat having been knocked and a lock of dark hair dangling across his forehead. “It does seem that I’m always in danger of falling around you.”
I gripped the edge of the counter, acutely aware of how little air there seemed to be in the room. Rhett returned to petting Easton as if nothing happened.
While he wasn’t looking, I fanned my face and turned around.
This was why I was avoiding him, I remembered.
Whatever this tension was, and whatever he meant by his insinuations and his soft looks—it would all be gone in a little over a week.
He was going to vanish to California as soon as he could, and I’d be left to daydream about all the things that could’ve been.
I had to remain focused.
“What are these?” I mumbled, half in a daze as I pointed at the new shelves on my wall.
Easton protested as his friend stood and approached me. “I, uh…” Rhett cleared his throat. “I figured those might come in handy. For decorations, plants—” He paused and rubbed his arm. “Maybe some of your pots,” he added, his voice dipping low.
My heart slammed against my chest. I could’ve sworn the floor tilted beneath my feet. “For my pots?” I echoed in a whisper.
Rhett nodded, boots crunching against the paper-covered floor as he strode to the wall. “You could just display them—with some… flowers?” His brows drew together with apparent hesitation. “But I think you should sell them.”
All at once, I was practically overcome with the urge to kiss him.
Then I remembered why I came.
The cold wave of reality washing over my shoulders like the end of a dream, I swallowed and smiled. “Thank you,” I said, focusing on keeping my voice steady. “That’s really thoughtful.”
An unmistakable pink tinge spread across his cheeks. “That’s my job.”
Of course—it was his job. That was all.
He pointed at the paper now partially wrinkled in my grasp. “What’s that?”
“Well, I’m having a meeting here tonight. I probably should have checked to make sure it’s ready for guests, but…” I glanced from the newly patched wall and ceiling to the remarkably tidy floor. “Kinda looks like it is.”
“I was going to have it all cleaned up for you tomorrow—” Rhett took a few steps toward me. “Wait, what meeting?”
I shoved a sign into his hands, finding myself unable to form the words.
“Save the Summer’s End Festival…” he muttered under his breath as he read. His jaw tensed, and he looked up. “I thought everyone agreed on the gala?”
“No. Well—” I squeezed my eyes shut and tried again. “They did, sort of. But I think people just don’t realize there’s another option.”
Rhett sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He started to say something, but I hurried to cut him off.
“And I’m sorry. I know you’re the one that asked her to come out here, and she’s already done all this work. But I think this is what’s good for the town,” I rambled. “I mean, we’ll see. I have no idea if anyone will even show up—”
“Georgie.”
“Well, that’s not true. Mrs. Henderson has been surprisingly supportive—”
Before I could continue, he crossed toward me and placed a rough finger on my lips. For a heartbeat, I forgot every word I’d ever known.
“What did I tell you about apologizing so much?” Rhett murmured, eyes dancing across my face before his hand dropped.
“I didn’t ask Claire to come. My parents—” He sighed and stepped away, the spell broken.
“They were… upset when I ended things between us. So, they told her where I was. When I said I’d be staying to help, she offered to help too. ”
A long silence settled between us.
“I saw how stressed you were about everything and I— I only wanted to help you. I thought it would make it better.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Now I see that it’s only made everything worse.”
I put my hand on his arm as if it was the most natural thing I’d ever done. “This isn’t your fault, okay? In a way, it was good that she came.”
When our eyes met, he looked desperate. “Really?”
“Yes.” I smiled. “She showed me what not to do.”
“Great,” he groaned.
“No, I mean… I was focused on the wrong things. Claire helped me see what really matters, y’know?”
Rhett crossed his arms, and I retrieved my hand. “The thing is, I don’t think she’s just going to give up,” he said.
“I guess it all depends on how many people come tonight,” I replied.
He nodded slowly, evidently unconvinced.
???
By dusk, waiting had become torture. Every minute crawled. I tried cleaning. I tried showering. I even tried napping, but my brain spun in frantic circles. What if no one came? What if Claire was right, and I just embarrassed myself in front of the entire town?
And when seven o’clock rolled around, my nerves were frayed and exposed.
I tugged on a clean blouse, dragged my hair into a ponytail, and marched toward Marigold’s without Easton by my side.
He had simply blinked at me, belly up on the couch, when I pulled out his leash again and tried to coax him to the door.
I didn’t blame him.
The warm glow of lights from behind the papered windows spilled onto the sidewalk as I approached. My heart lurched. From outside, I could already hear the murmur of voices. Lots of voices.
I pushed the door open.
Marigold’s was packed. Farmers, shopkeepers, teenagers, parents with toddlers.
Frank was busy talking shop with Rhett as they both gesticulated toward the wall that once gushed with water.
Rachel and Margot appeared to be making an awkward attempt at a conversation.
Even Dot was perched on the windowsill, gossiping at full volume.
They had come.
Janice waved at me from beside the floral cooler. “Georgie! You’re late to your own meeting.”
I laughed shakily, fighting the lump in my throat. “Are you surprised?”
When I stepped inside, the crowd hushed, as if waiting with bated breath for what I had to say. I smiled, greeting some with a hug as I jostled through the crowd and toward the back of the shop. Emma, clinging to her mother’s leg, sent me a wide grin from beneath her lashes as I ruffled her curls.
Behind the counter, I wrung my hands together and cleared my throat. “Thank you all for coming—”
“We can’t hear you!” Someone shouted again from the back.
I groaned internally.
“Alright, I—” Gripping the edge of the counter, I tried to lift my body up while what felt like a hundred eyes watched. So that was why people worked out. “Let me just…”
“Here,” a deep voice appeared to my right, “Let me help.”
I met Rhett’s eyes and flushed beet red as I nodded. “Thanks—”
With surprising alacrity, he grabbed my waist and hoisted me to the counter like a feather. His hands were firm and startlingly steady, and when he let go, the heat of his touch lingered and burned like a fresh tattoo. Whispers ricocheted through the crowd.
And now half the town had seen it too. If I wasn’t nervous before, now I certainly was.
“Thank you all for coming,” I started, knees wobbling as I stood. “Can you hear me now?” I added weakly.
A small laugh rippled through the shop.
“I know we were all devastated by the news that the carnival company was backing out. Up until this morning…” I swallowed.
Why hadn’t I written anything down? The words were coming out too thin, too shaky, and Dot’s exaggerated sigh from the window nearly knocked the air out of me.
A couple people shifted on their feet. Someone coughed.
For a horrible second, I thought I might actually bolt. I had never crowd surfed before. But there was a first time for everything.
“I’m going to start over,” I said with a weak smile. “Look, Bluebell Cove is—”
The shop door jingled. Joe slipped through, ducking his head as some turned to greet him. Our eyes met across the room. He was just like I had been—quietly struggling and barely keeping his head above water.
I wanted him to know what I wished I had.
“I grew up in Bluebell Cove,” I began again, a fresh steadiness in my voice. “My mother left me here when I was a baby, in the care of my grandmother—Marigold. Many of you knew her. She was vibrant, and colorful, and always ready with a helping hand to anyone who needed it.”
It was so quiet I was sure they could hear my racing heartbeat.
“For the longest time, I thought she was Bluebell Cove. And that was true, but… so are all of you.” I caught Janice’s teary-eyed grin in the crowd and looked away before I started crying as well.
“The beach is beautiful, and Bluebell Lane is gorgeous—but that’s not what makes people visit year after year.
It’s us. It’s this.” Laughing, I gestured to the crowd standing shoulder-to-shoulder.
“I believe that if we put on a true Summer’s End Festival, rain or shine, they will come.”
Clasping my hands together beneath my chin, I gathered a long breath and tried not to melt under their silent observation. The fridge cooler hummed. Paper crinkled as some rocked from foot to foot.
It would have been smart to actually write something. For some reason, I thought it would be best to speak from the heart.
Right when I was about to get down, someone clapped.
It was faint, and heads began to move on a swivel as we all searched for the source. Then, as her dad raised her onto his shoulders, Emma’s bright blonde head of curls appeared.
She clapped again. “We’re going to save the festival!”
Marigold’s slowly erupted in cheers and a roar of applause. It had to be a dream. My gaze darted to Rhett, and the way he was looking at me—with that smile that felt like flaming comets in my chest—nearly undid me. I rested my hand on my heart and let out a ridiculous whoop of excitement.
I was right. Bluebell Cove was special—and nothing, not a storm or the promise of triple profits—could take that away from us.
“Hey!”
The crowd began to quiet as another shout rang out.
“Hey!” They parted for Dot, who shuffled to the center of the room and huffed. “Have you all gone mad? This nonsense won’t save us when we’re trying to survive until Fallfest.”
“Dot, please,” Janice began.
“Save it,” she snapped. “I didn’t want to do this, but you’ve all left me no choice.”
Whispers swept through the shop. I rubbed my hands on my jeans.
“I ran into Claire today—who, by the way, has been incredibly generous to donate her time and resources to us.” Dot sent me a stern glare. “She said that any business owners who choose not to attend the gala, won’t receive any of the fundraising money.”
My stomach clenched as my nervous smile dropped into a frown.
Marigold’s erupted again, but this time into chaos.
Dot began to argue with at least three different people, others yelled from the back, and a few trickled out—Joe included.
For a second, my resolve wavered. What if Dot was right?
What if all I was doing was leading us into disaster?
Then I found Rhett, who had remained beside the counter, arms crossed and silent like a bodyguard. He peered up at me and mouthed, “Don’t give up now.”
I set my shoulders back and clapped.
Louder and louder until Margot, from the very back of the room, whistled so sharply I thought my ear drums might’ve been punctured. I sent her a grimace and a thumbs up.
“You don’t have to be here,” I began, leveling Dot with a sparkling grin. She harumphed and stuck her chin up at me. “None of you do, actually. If you choose to go to the gala, I won’t hold it against you.”
Dot received a few boo’s as she stormed out the door, followed by a handful more. It wasn’t surprising. The Georgie from a couple weeks ago, drowning in past due bills and feeling as if she was all alone, might’ve considered it.
But I knew, now, that wasn’t the whole story.
“Okay,” I said, my smile wide and certain. “Let’s give them something to remember.”