Chapter 9
Lily
I pushed out into the late-afternoon air, warm and golden sunlight still lingering. My heels clicked against the sidewalk as I headed down Main Street, where the shop windows glinted and other stores were beginning to close for the day.
Ethan Calloway’s glare stayed in my memory, sharp enough to stick hours later. There was something about that intensity in his eyes that sent a shiver down my spine. Honestly, the guy needed a hobby—or therapy. Preferably both. Who stays that grumpy over one teeny-tiny scratch?
I tugged my blazer a little tighter and shook the thought away. Fine. If Mr. Eternal Sulk wanted to spend his life marinating in bitterness, that was his problem. I had a job to do—and judging by the crowd that had poured into his store today, I was already winning.
Scoops was not far, and I could hear it before I saw it—laughter spilling out onto the sidewalk, the clink of metal spoons on glass, the warbling notes of some boy band ballad bleeding from the speakers.
Through the window, I caught a glimpse of pastel booths, kids crammed shoulder to shoulder, and the kind of small-town chatter that bounced like ping-pong balls off the tiled floor.
Inside, the air was cool and sweet, heavy with sugar and waffle cones. The counter gleamed, stacked with jars of rainbow sprinkles and gummy worms.
Behind it, a woman in her late twenties was scooping ice cream with the kind of efficiency that only comes from doing it every day.
She had a mane of red curls piled into a messy bun, and her simple jeans and white tee looked effortlessly cool, like she’d stepped straight out of a Gap commercial.
A faded apron was tied at her waist, streaked with chocolate and sprinkles, and she flashed each kid at the counter a smile so warm it felt like the real welcome sign of the place.
“Lily! Over here!” The tall brunette from earlier—Rachel, I thought she’d said—was waving me over to a corner booth. Across from her sat the petite blonde, Sarah, already scooting over to make space.
I crossed the room, my heels clicking against the black-and-white tiles. Rachel leaned forward, her brown wavy hair bouncing as she grinned. “Okay, look who it is! The woman who’s single-handedly going to save the fair.”
“I aim to please,” I said while giving a tiny curtsy before taking a seat across from them.
“So,” Sarah said, eyes bright, “how did your day go? Place was packed earlier. Maggie said she hadn’t seen Calloway’s that busy in years.”
“Mission accomplished,” I said, picking up a menu. “We got the sign-up sheets filled halfway before lunch, locked down two more vendors from last year, and I even managed to get through three sponsor calls before Ethan threatened to throw my stereo out the window.”
Rachel cackled. “Oh, I bet he loved that.”
“Ethan's face went nuclear. I swear he turned the exact shade of those hot pink posters," I said, and Rachel snorted while Sarah's shoulders shook silently.
Before I could say more, the woman from behind the counter walked over, giving me a warm, curious smile.
“You must be Lily,” she said, resting a hand on the back of the booth. “Welcome to Willowbrook. I’m Maggie. These two have been talking about you nonstop.”
“Guilty,” Rachel said brightly, while Sarah just grinned.
I smiled back. “Well, anyone who’s friends with these two is already cool in my book.”
Maggie’s eyes lit with amusement. “Good answer. Now, what can I get you? First round’s on me—house tradition whenever we’ve got somebody new in town.”
Sarah leaned across the table, smirking. “You have to try her Reese’s Pieces sundae. It’s, like, a Willowbrook rite of passage.”
Maggie laughed. “She’s not wrong. But if you’re a milkshake girl, I won’t judge. Much.”
“Noted,” I said, scanning my menu. “But I think I’ll go with the sundae. If it’s a rite of passage, I’m in. These two?” I tipped my head toward Rachel and Sarah. “I’m guessing they’re regulars.”
Maggie leaned her arms on the booth. “Oh, we all go way back. We spent our summers biking to the old fishing pond, catching frogs, and trying to build the world’s crummiest treehouse until we gave up and just climbed the trees instead.
Rachel was always the first to climb to the top, daring us to follow. ”
Rachel rolled her eyes, twirling a piece of hair around her finger. “Of course, I was. I actually had the guts to do it.”
“You were just brave enough to risk a broken leg,” Sarah teased gently. “While I was down below, plotting the best possible way to catch you if you fell.”
They all laughed, and I found myself laughing with them, the sound slipping out before I could stop it.
But as their joy filled the air, I couldn’t help comparing it to my own childhood—a string of half-packed bedrooms, caseworkers with practiced smiles, and friendships that never got the chance to last.
I’d had a best friend once—Hannah from my third foster home.
We’d built forts out of couch cushions, shared a journal we passed back and forth, promised we’d be in each other’s weddings someday.
And then, one Tuesday afternoon, my foster parents announced they were moving three states away for a new job.
By Friday, I was in another house, another school, another life—Hannah gone like she’d never existed.
I learned then not to get attached, not to try.
Be friendly, be likable, fit in everywhere and belong nowhere. It hurt less that way.
Watching these people now—friends who’d grown up together, who still chose each other—I felt it again: that familiar ache, equal parts envy and longing.
For a fleeting second, I let their laughter wash over me, feeling a warmth that was both exhilarating and bittersweet.
Maggie grinned, flipping her order pad shut. “Alright, ladies, I’ll have your sundaes out shortly. Don’t start without me—I want to hear everything.” She winked before heading back behind the counter.
I watched Maggie disappear behind the counter again, still smiling. “She seems great.”
“Oh, she’s the best,” Sarah said without hesitation.
“She owns this place and works her butt off. She’s got a son too—Ian.
He’s eight and just the cutest. I’ve got two little ones, but at least I’ve got my husband, Matt.
I can’t imagine raising a kid alone while running a business. She’s a total rockstar.”
“Seriously,” Rachel agreed. “Maggie’s the kind of person who makes the rest of us look lazy.”
I leaned back, letting my grin soften into something more genuine. “Then I already know I like her. Anyone who can juggle all that and still make people laugh? That’s my kind of woman.”
Rachel leaned her chin on her hand, eyes bright. “So, Lily—what’s your deal? Like, do you actually live here now, or are we just lucky until the fair’s over?”
“Lucky for now,” I said with a playful shrug.
“But I go wherever the work takes me. I’ve done logos for small businesses, ad campaigns for Broadway shows, even a Valentine's chocolate festival in Boston, where champagne fountains at a singles mixer tripled our ticket sales. Honestly? If there’s a banner to be made or a brand to build, I’m your girl. ”
Sarah’s eyes widened. “That’s amazing. My life feels so…
normal by comparison. I stay home with the kids, and I feel like I’m a success if I keep the kids alive and somehow get a load of laundry done.
” She smiled softly, like she wouldn’t trade it for anything.
“Ava’s four and already bossing everyone around, and Lucas is two. Total chaos, but the good kind.”
I grinned, leaning forward. "Hey, two kids under five and still finding time to fold laundry? That's superhero territory."
Rachel laughed. “Well, I don’t have kids, but I have flowers. And honestly? Sometimes brides make toddlers look easy.” She shot Sarah a playful look. “At least yours don’t demand peonies in December.”
That set us all laughing, and I leaned in conspiratorially. “See, this is why I like you guys. You get it. You’ve got your chaos, I’ve got mine, but we all survive with style.”
Rachel pointed her straw at me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Speaking of style—those clothes are amazing! You’ve got that whole Clueless vibe going on.”
“Please,” I said, flipping my hair with a grin. “Cher Horowitz is basically my spirit animal. I mean, who wouldn’t want to strut through life in fabulous outfits and impeccable confidence?”
That got another round of laughter, easy and warm, like we’d been doing this forever.
The conversation spilled from TV to town gossip to favorite milkshake flavors without missing a beat, every topic another excuse for me to charm and tease until Rachel and Sarah were grinning like old friends instead of new acquaintances.
In that moment, I felt a pang of longing.
This was the kind of connection I had missed—no masks, just genuine joy.
Maggie reappeared a few minutes later, balancing a tray as if it weighed nothing.
She slid tall glass dishes onto the table, each one crowned with a swirl of whipped cream and a cherry on top.
Mine was piled high with peanut-butter sauce and those famous Reese’s Pieces, the candy shells catching the light.
“Three sundaes for my favorite table,” she said with a grin. “And before I run back, I gotta ask—how does a girl go about getting in on this whole Summerfest thing? I’ve been thinking a little ice cream truck parked by the main gate could be fun.”