Chapter 5 Shifting Tides #2
A clean layout. A soft palette. Something that felt like Starfall Bay—quiet, hopeful, a little nostalgic without leaning into anything too sentimental.
Emma dropped into the chair beside her with a steaming mug of cocoa. “Okay,” she announced. “I have menu ideas. And questions. So many questions.”
“That’s never a good sign,” Julia said dryly as she entered from the hallway, tablet already in her hand.
Emma ignored her. “Do we want a brunch board? A nighttime cocoa station? Both? And should we incorporate star-shaped biscuits, or is that trying too hard?”
“We’re a meteor-watching inn,” Claire said. “Everything we do tries a little hard.”
Julia smirked. “She’s not wrong.”
“Okay, good, then star biscuits stay on the table,” Emma said, tapping notes into her phone. “What about a little sample jar of stargazer tea for guests to take home?”
Claire pointed her pencil at her. “That’s actually perfect. And local shops can supply the blend.”
“Yes!” Emma bounced lightly in her seat. “We can collaborate with Harbor & Leaf. They love community events.”
Julia sighed, though the smile tugging at her mouth betrayed her. “Fine. I’ll contact them.”
Claire returned her focus to the flyer design. She typed the header in a soft serif font:
Wish Weekend at the Bayview InnWhere the sky falls, and hearts rise.
Warmth tugged at her chest. The phrase felt right—gentle, inviting, exactly the tone they needed.
Next, she sketched out the bottom half, leaving space for dates and a short description.
“Listen to this,” she said, reading aloud as she typed.
“Join us for a cozy pre-festival celebration at the Bayview Inn. Write a wish for the Starfall Chest, stargaze from the porch, enjoy seasonal treats, and experience the magic of Starfall Bay before the meteor shower arrives.”
Emma sighed happily. “I want to come to our own event.”
“You’re already here,” Julia reminded her.
“Details,” Emma said with a wave of her hand.
Before Claire could add the remaining text, footsteps approached. Walker stood in the lobby doorway, brushing a bit of damp air from his jacket sleeve.
“I checked the weather models,” he said. “The weekend before the festival has a strong chance of clearing skies.”
“How strong?” Claire asked.
He gave a half-shrug. “Weather strong. Eighty percent. Nothing’s guaranteed, but it’s your best shot.”
“That’s more than enough for marketing,” Julia said, tapping her tablet. “We just won’t advertise it as a guarantee.”
“Never promise the sky will cooperate,” Claire agreed.
Walker stepped closer, glancing over her shoulder at the screen. “That looks good,” he said quietly. “Like something people would save instead of scroll past.”
The compliment felt warm, unexpected. Claire saved the file before she could overthink it. “Thanks. I want it ready by this afternoon so we can get it out quickly.”
“Do you want me to help with the description?” Walker asked. “I could write a couple of lines about what makes the meteor shower special this year.”
“That would be great,” she said. “People love details.”
Emma rested her chin on her hand. “Are we sure you’re not secretly a Hallmark love interest? Because you’re checking all the boxes.”
Julia groaned. “Please stop giving him ideas.”
“I already told you,” Walker said in a patient tone, “I’m just trying to be useful.”
Claire cleared her throat. “Okay, I need about thirty minutes to finalize this design. Emma, start drafting the menu. Julia, go over the pricing model. Walker, you can write the astronomy section in the lobby if you want.”
They each nodded and split off into their tasks.
For a while, the inn settled into a productive hum: the soft clacking of Claire’s keys, the rhythmic swipes of Julia’s tablet pen, Emma’s occasional gasp of inspiration, and Walker’s quiet scribbling as he leaned over the counter, writing on a yellow notepad.
Claire felt something loosen inside her. This—this kind of teamwork—had been missing for too long.
Half an hour later, Claire exported the final version of the digital flyer. It was simple and warm, with a soft navy border and a scattering of small gold stars at the top. The Starfall Chest was mentioned without overshadowing the rest of the event.
“Okay,” she said. “Flyer is done. What’s next?”
Julia immediately slid her tablet toward Claire. “Pricing. Look over this before I send it to the booking platforms. I’ve run three scenarios based on occupancy and food costs.”
“Wow,” Emma whispered. “She’s in full lawyer mode.”
“We need full lawyer mode,” Claire said, scanning the numbers. “This looks good. Sustainable, even if it’s not wildly profitable.”
“It’s not meant to be profitable,” Julia said. “It’s meant to get people here.”
“And I have my menu,” Emma said brightly. “Starlight cocoa, meteor muffins—that name is negotiable—and a small evening tasting board. Plus tea samples.”
“Keep meteor muffins,” Walker said without looking up from his notes. “Kids will love it.”
Emma gasped. “Thank you!”
Walker handed Claire his notepad page. “Here. Something simple about the Starfall.”
Claire scanned the text. It was perfect—clear, poetic without trying to be, warm in a way she didn’t expect.
“You should teach,” she murmured before she caught herself.
He shrugged. “Maybe someday.”
Emma gave a silent, exaggerated swoon. Julia elbowed her.
Claire set Walker’s page beside her laptop. “This is really good. Thank you.”
“Anytime,” he said.
The air between them felt… different. Not romantic, exactly. But connected. Like two pieces of something that recognized each other without knowing why.
Claire looked away first. “Okay. Time to push this live.”
They gathered around the table as she posted the flyer to the inn’s social feeds and emailed it to Mrs. Patel for the town newsletter.
“Done,” she said, exhaling.
“Now we wait?” Emma asked.
“Now we keep working,” Julia corrected.
But something already felt lighter.
Ten minutes later, the front door opened.
A gust of cool air swept in, followed by a tall man with a dripping umbrella and a sheepish expression.
“Hi,” he said, brushing rain from his sleeves. “Sorry to stop in unannounced. My mom sent me here. She saw your flyer online and shoved me out the door to ask if you have any rooms left for your wish thing.”
Emma squealed.
Julia blinked.
Claire’s heart lifted in her chest like it recognized the moment before her brain did.
“That didn’t take long,” Walker murmured quietly beside her.
“No,” Claire said, unable to hide her smile. “It didn’t.”
And just like that, Wish Weekend wasn’t just an idea.
It had begun.
The man shook out his umbrella on the mat, looking a little apologetic as he stepped fully into the lobby. He had dark hair pushed back by the rain, a worn canvas jacket, and the kind of smile that suggested he knew how ridiculous his errand sounded.
“Sorry,” he said again. “My mom texted me the flyer and then called, and when my mother calls, I answer. This place is the Bayview Inn, right? The one doing the… uh… Wish Weekend thing?”
“Yes,” Claire said, moving toward the front desk. “You’re in the right place.”
Emma appeared at her side as if conjured. “We love your mother already,” she said. “She has excellent taste.”
He laughed, shoulders relaxing. “She’s relentless. Said she always meant to stay here for the meteor shower and never did, and if I didn’t at least come down here and ask about booking, she’d haunt me while still alive.”
“That sounds like a woman I’d like to meet,” Julia said, joining them with her tablet in hand.
The man carefully set his umbrella aside.
“I’m Nate Collins,” he said. “I live in town. Work most of the time remotely. My mom saw your post about the locals’ weekend.
She wants to reserve a room for herself and my stepdad.
And, if there’s space, maybe one for me too.
She thinks I need ‘a change of scenery and a reason to look up more.’ Her words. Not mine.”
Claire felt a smile tug at her. “You’re our first Wish Weekend inquiry,” she said. “We’d be happy to check availability.”
Nate’s brows rose. “First? So my mother’s ambush marketing worked.”
“We just posted the flyer,” Julia said. “You’re very efficient.”
“Efficient is one word for her,” he said. “Relentless is another.”
Claire pulled up the reservation system. “What dates were you thinking?”
“The weekend before the festival,” he said. “Friday through Sunday. She wants the full experience—whatever that means. I assume cocoa is involved. She always assumes cocoa is involved.”
“Your mother and Emma are going to get along,” Claire said.
“Already do,” Emma said without looking up from the notes she’d started scribbling. “Nate, right? Does your mom have any food allergies or flavor preferences? Cinnamon? Nutmeg? Extremely strong opinions about marshmallows?”
“Is this… normal?” he asked, glancing at Claire.
“This is Emma,” Claire said. “You’ll get used to it.”
Nate relaxed further, laughter deepening the lines at the corners of his eyes. “No allergies. She loves cinnamon. And she’ll tell everyone in town if the cocoa is good.”
“We accept that pressure,” Emma said solemnly.
Julia nudged Claire gently. “Rooms?”
Claire turned back to the screen. The block of dates that had looked so empty an hour ago now felt like a door waiting to be opened. She checked the rooms they’d set aside for the local rate and felt a small, victorious lift in her chest.
“We have space,” she said. “We can put your parents in a bay-view queen room and you in a standard queen just down the hall. Both include breakfast, the wish-writing event in the living room, and the stargazing session on the porch—weather permitting.”
Nate’s eyebrows rose. “You have an actual stargazing session?”
“Yes,” Walker said from his spot near the fireplace. He walked over, wiping his hands on a dish towel he’d borrowed from the kitchen. “I’ll be leading it. I work with a sky-watching program in town.”
“A local expert,” Nate said. “My mom will love that. She’s obsessed with constellations she can’t pronounce.”
“We’ll fix that,” Walker said lightly.