Chapter Twenty
The applause still rang in my ears long after Dot had vanished. My cheeks hurt from smiling, my throat from shouting, and yet—I wasn’t ready for the night to end.
“All right,” I said, clapping my hands together and scanning the faces still packed into Marigold’s. “If we’re really going to do this, we need a plan. Who’s with me?”
Half a dozen hands shot up at once, followed by a chorus of “Me!” and “I can help!”.
Margot, who had apparently decided she was the organizational muscle of this operation, swooped in with a clipboard she’d conjured from thin air. “Okay, one at a time,” she barked below me, clicking her pen. “Georgie, you tell us what needs doing, and I’ll get it scheduled.”
The crowd shifted, a blanket of murmurs thrumming with excitement. For a moment I just stared back at her, my instinct to panic edging to the front of my mind. Then Margot caught my eye, nodding once—an unspoken go on. I cleared my throat and crouched until my legs were dangling from the counter.
“We need posters,” I said, pointing to a pair of high schoolers near the back. “Kenzie, Wyatt, that’s you. Big and colorful and impossible-to-ignore. Think you can handle that?”
They grinned, faces lit from the phones in their hands. “Oh, absolutely,” Kenzie replied.
“Great. And… sign-ups for the pie contest.” I scanned the room until Mrs. Henderson waved both arms from the corner, balancing her purse and her planner as she jostled through the crowd toward us. “Perfect. You’re in charge. Just… not only gluten-free, okay?”
That got a ripple of laughter. Mrs. Henderson sniffed, but her lips twitched like she was trying not to grin.
I kept going, swept along by the energy in the room: booths, decorations, and new volunteers for set-up and clean-up.
Many of us signed up for double duty, collectively filling the gaps left behind by Claire’s gala.
Margot scribbled furiously, interrupting now and then to demand names and phone numbers.
I had no idea how we’d pull it off, only that we would.
For the first time since the carnival company cancelled their contract, the Summer’s End Festival felt real again.
By the time the crowd trickled out, Marigold’s resembled the aftermath of a hurricane—Rhett’s carefully laid paper floor was crumpled and torn, and the counter had my sneaker prints all over it—but I felt more energized than I had in weeks.
I sagged against the wall, mind reeling as it struggled to catch up with reality.
“That was… something.”
Rhett, who had been lingering at the back, stepped forward with a black garbage bag in hand. “You continue to impress me,” he said casually, as if it didn’t make my heart squeeze.
I rolled my eyes. “You must be easily impressed.”
“I’m not,” he replied bluntly, stooping to rip a section of paper off the floor. After a long silence, Rhett looked up and met my eyes. “It’s a family trait,” he muttered before turning away.
No words passed between us as I strode to a different area and began tearing large chunks from their tape and crumpling them into balls.
My breath caught in my throat as the floorboards beneath caught the light.
Crouching, I ran my palm over the glossy surface.
A pang of awe tangled with uneasiness in my chest.
“Rhett?” I said, finding him on the other side of Marigold’s. “What did you do?”
When he turned, his eyebrows drew together with concern. “Is something wrong?” He dropped the bag stuffed full of construction paper and quickly approached.
I fell back on my haunches and traced the floorboards around me with both hands. “You put new floors in.”
“Only a few boards. The rest I just sanded and re-stained. They were so warped from the water leaks and the burst pipes, I…” Rhett rubbed the back of his neck and knelt beside me. “If you don’t like the color, I can change them.”
“No, no,” I said, swiping at the sudden tears on my lash line. Shaking my head, he looked back at me with sheer horror in his eyes. “I don’t know why, but seeing them made it feel like a piece of my grandmother was gone.”
Rhett raked a hand through his hair. “I’m so sorry, Georgie. I still have them—”
My laugh, clear and hopeful for the first time in days, interrupted him. I sniffled and tucked a curl behind my ear. “I love them—trust me. They’re beautiful.”
After a moment of hesitation, he sat on the floor beside me, back against the counter. His hands met in his lap as he twiddled his thumbs together and stared at his boots. “I never got to go to my uncle’s funeral.”
The sudden revelation hung between us. I hugged my knees to my chest and waited for him to continue.
“My parents, they uh—” Rhett’s jaw clenched while he seemed to search for the right words.
“Him and my dad grew up in Bluebell Cove, you know?” His eyes, shining and bare, met mine for a brief, sweltering moment.
“My dad always said he got out. Made something of himself. And my uncle, he… well, he didn’t. ”
I worried my bottom lip between my teeth as my stomach began to clench. He might as well have been talking about me.
“But that didn’t stop them from sending me here every summer. They’d rather that than cancel their vacations.” Rhett paused and dragged in a long breath. “Anyway… they didn’t think to tell me when he passed. I had to find out from my uncle’s lawyer, of all people.”
“I’m sorry, Rhett,” I whispered, fighting the urge to throw my arms around him.
He swallowed and tilted his head back against the counter, gaze falling back on me. “I just… wanted you to know that I get how it feels. Nothing’s wrong with you, okay?”
My heart slammed against my ribs. Rhett always saw through me—past the chaos and the carefully manufactured pretense that I was fine. But this was different. Beneath it all, I recognized him, too. Understanding him left me raw and exposed, like a live wire dangling above a pool of gasoline.
The only thing I was sure of was that if I reached out, we would both combust.
After a stretch of silence thrumming with everything left unsaid, I ignored the lump in my throat and averted my eyes.
“Thank you for saying that, Rhett,” I murmured, before forcing a smile on my face and hopping to my feet.
“And thank you for these floors. Although I might miss wondering every morning if I’m going to fall through. ” My laugh was small and hollow.
The corners of Rhett’s lips drooped. “Wouldn’t want that,” he mumbled, sounding almost annoyed.
My hands shook as I bent to gather my balls of paper. “Can I count on you to come to the town’s festival?” If I focused on gathering the scraps, I was sure I could keep my voice from wavering.
He stood slowly and swiped a piece of trash on the way. “Do you even have to ask that?”
Of course I had to ask that. I wasn’t sure if I’d wake up the next day and find out that he had already disappeared to the West Coast. And I wasn’t sure how long it would take me to recover.
“I’m glad to hear it,” I said instead, nearly tripping over the words.
Swiping the trash bag from the other side of the shop, he watched as I stuffed my collection inside and began to tie it closed.
“Here.” Rhett extended the fragment of paper.
I whispered a thanks and reached for it blindly, more than ready to run out the door and let the cool air calm my flaming cheeks. Our fingers brushed. Swallowing, I moved to snatch my hand back, but he caught it with his own.
Blood rushed in my ears as I met his eyes and froze.
He took a step forward, then another. The air grew dangerously thin. His Adam’s apple bobbed as his gaze drifted over my face.
“Georgie,” Rhett said, voice low.
Every muscle fiber screamed to melt into his arms—to forget everything and believe for just a second that someone was choosing me. But as much as I wanted to ignore reality, I knew it would only make the leaving that much worse.
So I flashed the smile—the one that fooled everyone—and slipped my hand away. “Thanks for all your help, Rhett.”
I turned before he could see it fall. Shoving that stupid ball of trash in the garbage bag, I tied the strings and shouted a goodbye as I ran out the door.
Around the corner, though, I sunk back onto the wall and let out a shaking breath.
I couldn’t love someone who was leaving. Not again.
???
The next morning, the gossip mill was already churning at full speed.
I couldn’t walk down Main Street without snippets drifting to my ears:
“Georgie really pulled a crowd last night—”
“—Claire’s gala sounds more elegant…”
“—Rhett lifting her onto the counter? Bold move.”
By the time I reached the Morning Bell, my thoughts were spinning. It was still hard to wrap my mind around last night—from the packed shop, to the community rallying together, to a certain carpenter who seemed intent on setting up camp in my mind.
Their division over the subject was no surprise to me. For some reason, though, I hadn’t fully anticipated that all the tongues would be wagging in my direction.
That morning turned into a blur of festival prep.
First stop: the high school art room.
Kenzie and Wyatt sprawled across a table, surrounded by vibrant paints and a slew of poster boards. One read SAVE OUR SUMMER in giant bubble letters, and another was littered with sketches of pies.
“What do you think?” Wyatt asked, barely audible over the music blaring from his phone speakers.
“They’re perfect,” I said, genuinely. The bright colors made me giddy. “Hang them anywhere people can’t avoid looking—shop windows, telephone poles—the school, even.”
He sent me a goofy grin. “Miss Anderson already volunteered the entire Visual Arts class to help.”
I clapped a hand over my mouth and nearly cried. “I knew I liked her.”
Kenzie briefly glanced up from her bubble letters. “Shouldn’t we hang a few outside of town, too?”
“Good point,” I replied, tapping my chin. “Got any extras?”
???
By midday, exhaustion tangled with a strange, buzzing energy. My volunteers were all hard at work. The town was humming with an addictive sense of community.
Strolling down Main Street, I ended a call with Janice—she’d just agreed to take on something special and very top-secret—and tucked my phone into my back pocket.
I was halfway to the diner when Rhett’s old pickup rolled into view, his denim-clad arm draped casually out the window.
I half-dove toward the nearest shop, but he’d already seen me.
He swung into the closest parking spot, hopped out, and dusted his hands on his jeans. “Where you off to with those?”
I stared at posters tucked under my arms, momentarily at a loss for words. “Port Camden,” I replied in a rush and motioned toward Captain’s with my chin. “I'm going to go see if Margot can drive me in Ruth’s car.”
Rhett crossed his arms and leaned against the hood of his truck. “I just passed Margot having a pretty intense phone call up by Callahan’s Garage.”
My heart sank. “Oh.”
“Good thing you’ve got me,” he said, patting the grille.
“You’ve already done too much—”
“What if I said I was already heading that way?”
I narrowed my eyes at him and blew a lock of hair out of my face. “Is that true?”
Then, Rhett smiled and shrugged. Before I could protest, he pushed off the truck and yanked the posters from my arms.
“You coming?” he tossed over his shoulder as he pulled the passenger door open.
Something told me I’d regret this.