by Olivia Miles
Britt felt her cheeks burn. “Well, I have a big job waiting for me next door,” she said, hoping to put an end to any reference to follow her life, or lack of one, back in the city. She grinned down at the little girl. “It was very nice seeing you again, Keira.”
“Are you coming to the Summer in the Square festival this weekend?” Keira asked.
Britt slanted a glance at Robbie, who was watching her expectantly.
“Please?” Keira asked, sensing her hesitation. “My painting is going to be on display and I want you see it.”
Impressed, Britt looked at Robbie, who gave her a small smile. “All the children who take art class at Mila’s will have a piece on display.”
Mila? The Mila who was Cora’s age, with the long red hair and dazzling smile? Britt pushed back the uneasy feeling that made her heart quicken.
“And what is your piece?” Britt asked, returning her attention to the little girl. She still couldn’t quite grasp how much she resembled Robbie. Those eyes, that smile.
“It’s a surprise,” Keira said with a giggle as a bit of juice splashed her hands.
“Even I haven’t seen it,” Robbie said with a shrug.
“Then I guess I have to show up, don’t I?” Britt said, and Keira jumped up and down with excitement before running over to the sink to wash the juice off her hands.
“She’s hard to say no to,” Britt told Robbie in a low voice.
“Believe me, I know.” He gave her a long look, as if he wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure if he should.
“I hope it’s okay,” she said, wondering if he’d misread the exchange. “Amelia is enlisting all of our help anyway, so I’ll be tied up at her stand for a lot of the day.”
“It’s your town, too,” he said, lifting an eyebrow.
She considered this for a moment. She hadn’t thought of Blue Harbor as her town in a long time, not since she packed her stuff into the back of her dad’s car and let him drive her to Chicago. She hadn’t turned around. Hadn’t looked back. Nothing good came from looking back.
Still, as she left the father and daughter to juice the remaining strawberries, she couldn’t resist one glance over her shoulder at the sweet moment. It could have just as easily been her standing on a chair beside her own father, when he taught her how to do the very same task.
Tradition, Britt thought, as she walked outside and let her gaze fall on the rows of trees and bushes that were still here, thriving, all these years later.
Maybe there was something to be said for it, after all.
8
Maddie was already at the café when Britt arrived the next morning, wearing a yellow cotton sundress and comfortable slip-on sneakers, because she knew from past experience that there were never enough chairs or benches to go around at Summer in the Square, and from the looks of the kitchen countertops, Amelia intended to keep all of her sisters on their feet. It was a sunny day, as it tended to be on festival day, as fortune would have it, and despite Maddie’s chilly greeting, Britt was grateful for the chance to have something to do other than to worry about her unemployment status—or the fate of the orchard.
Maybe, with any luck, she would break through Maddie’s shell today. Confronting her wouldn’t help. She’d coax it out of her. And if that didn’t work, she’d get Amelia or Cora to tell her what the heck was going on.
“Are Steve’s girls coming?” Britt asked, wondering if they were enlisted to help out as well.
Amelia gave her a funny look as she stepped around the center island of the big kitchen, which felt small with every surface covered in trays and plastic containers of pasta salads. “Of course they’re coming. No one misses Summer in the Square!”
No one except her, was the unspoken sentiment, and Britt couldn’t help but wonder if Amelia suspected that Britt would try to make up an excuse and asked for her help to make sure she would attend.
“Gabby is in charge of the centerpieces for the tables,” Maddie explained. “And Jenna will be playing piano for the evening dance.”
“Along with whatever high school band is playing,” Amelia said with a laugh. Once, there had been a time when Amelia had a crush on the singer of one such garage band, and they’d teased her mercilessly over it.
Now, though, it seemed that much like herself, Amelia was too practical for love. And too busy, too. The café was her top priority—she’d used her inheritance to take it over, much as Cora had used her share to start a holiday shop. They’d known just how to grow what their mother had left them, whereas Britt was still struggling.
“Well, it will be good to see Jenna,” Britt said cheerfully. The entire town of Blue Harbor, as well as people from neighboring towns, gathered for the annual event. Some people from Evening Island even took the ferry in for the day, and she wondered idly if her friend Naomi would stop by. They’d grown up together here on Blue Harbor, but Naomi had always pined for the island that was visible from the shoreline, and she took the ferry over every weekend she could, just for the day, to rent a bike and take a lap around the island.
“And of course Dad will be there in his wheelchair,” Amelia said. The unspoken words flitted through her gaze. With Candy.
“Actually, I was thinking it might be too much for him,” Britt said. “What if someone knocks into him? Jostles his chair?” Things could get pretty rowdy as the evening went on.
But Maddie just gave her a disapproving look and said, “You don’t need to worry about these things, Britt. He’s managed just fine without you for fourteen years, after all.”
Ouch. Silenced, Britt stared at her youngest sister, who walked to the pantry in a huff, and then met Amelia’s eyes. Amelia just shrugged and, with a glance at the clock, said, “We really need to get going.”
She pushed a wisp of hair from her forehead with the back of her hand and went back to counting out the sandwiches she’d prepped in advance, and not just any sandwiches, but her famous tomato sandwiches, made on freshly baked bread that was topped with rosemary, and layered with salty artisan cheddar from a local dairy farm.
Britt’s mouth watered as she stared down at the tray.
“Don’t even think about it,” Amelia said, noticing the longing in her eyes.
“I’ll pay, of course,” Britt replied, though she wasn’t exactly sure with what. She’d spent the morning applying to any job that seemed remotely qualified for; jobs in Chicago, and as far away as San Diego or Atlanta. Surely, she’d hear something soon.
She licked her lower lip nervously. She wished she could be more confident about that.
“I won’t be taking money from my sister,” Amelia tutted. She began counting another tray, muttering under her breath until she reached two dozen. “It’s the inventory I’m worried about. We’re the only café in town with a booth, and even though a lot of people slip off to one of the local restaurants for a few hours during the day, last year we sold out of food by midafternoon.”
“That’s amazing!” Britt grinned at her sister, feeling proud of all that she’d accomplished. “You’re a good businesswoman, Amelia.”
Amelia snorted, but her cheeks flushed pink, betraying her own pride at the compliment. “I won’t be if I don’t get these trays to the town square in the next twenty minutes. Cora is setting up the booth, so she’ll meet us over there.” She hoisted one of the trays off the counter and made way for the back kitchen door that led out to a small parking alley where her car was parked. Even though the square was only three blocks from the café, Britt got the impression that her sister didn’t want to take any risks of dropping the food, but when she saw the amount of food loaded into the back hatch of her sister’s SUV, she changed her reasoning.
“There’s enough to feed the entire town in here!” she exclaimed, looking at the plastic containers stacked high with cookies and sandwiches, all individually wrapped in waxed paper, tied with a simple bow of twine.
“That’s the hope,” Amelia said.
She stood back as Mad
die slid the last of the sandwich trays into the trunk, and then closed it firmly. Maybe a little firmly, Britt thought, unless she was being overly sensitive.
Not feeding into it, Amelia blew out a breath, her eyes bright. “Well, I’ve only got room for one passenger up front with me,” she said, eyeing her sisters.
“I’ll walk,” Maddie volunteered, and given that she’d been at the café since possibly the crack of dawn to help finish up these items, it appeared that she needed a nap more than a walk. “And I’ll lock up, too.”
“See you there,” Britt said with a smile as she climbed into the front seat beside Amelia. She was determined to wear Maddie down if it was the only thing she accomplished here in town. But at the rate things were going, she might have better luck turning the family business around than getting her youngest sister to warm up to her again.
“Do you think anything is up with Maddie?” Britt asked, once the doors were closed and Maddie was out of view.
Amelia blinked distractedly in her rearview mirror. “We’re all just busy. This is a big day.”
Of course. Maybe there really was nothing more to it than that.
“I mean what I said,” Britt told her sister, looking at her until she forced her sister to meet her gaze. “You’ve accomplished a lot. And you know what you’re doing. I’ve seen major corporations that have less business sense than you.”
“I probably got it from Dad,” Amelia said as she pulled onto the street. It was crowded, with everyone wanting to secure a spot near the square, but Amelia had promised she’d been offered a reserved spot, exclusively for the vendors. “We both do.”
“About that…” Britt wasn’t sure if she should even be bringing it up, but one look at her sister told her that Amelia wasn’t even paying attention. She was cursing under her breath, the way she always did when she got behind the wheel, impatiently instructing the car in front of her to inch up rather than hold out for a spot on Main that they’d never fit into, and Britt could only smile and look out the window.
She’d forgotten how Amelia could be when she was driving. She’d forgotten a lot of things about the people in this town.
But then, she supposed, that had been the intention, hadn’t it?
*
Amelia had been right in her prediction. And her concern. Within two hours, they’d already sold out of coffee and scones and by noon, half the sandwiches were gone, and the various pasta salads were going quickly. Maddie offered to run back to the café and make more, and Britt manned the counter until Cora came along and relieved her.
“You go enjoy yourself,” Cora said, holding out a hand for the apron that Britt wore.
Britt hesitated. Working at the booth was an excuse to be here, but also to keep her distance from the social scene, and all who may be lingering in it. It was also a purpose, and for as long as she could remember, having a purpose and keeping busy was all that she knew.
“Why doesn’t the orchard have a stand here?” she asked aloud, thinking of how easy it would have been to put up a booth offering fresh cider and wine once the sun went down.
Amelia shrugged. “Beats me. I try to stay out of Dad’s business. You know how set in his ways he is. And he knows best, doesn’t he?”
Britt wasn’t about to argue, not when there was a line from here to the big maple tree gathering impatiently. Her feet ached despite the comfortable shoes, and her stomach grumbled from lack of food, because she hadn’t found two minutes to eat when there were so many people that claimed to be hungrier than her waiting in line.
She untied her apron strings and handed it over to Cora.
“Call me if you need me,” she said, stepping back from the counter.
She had been darting glances at the crowd all day, hoping to see Robbie almost as much as she hoped to miss him, but now she felt the need to seek him out. There was room for opportunity here that wasn’t being tapped, and if her father wouldn’t listen to her, then perhaps Robbie would be able to get through to him.
She wound her way through the crowds, pausing to greet the smiling faces she recognized, which were numerous, making small talk about all the exciting things that had kept her busy in Chicago—and away from Blue Harbor.
“It’s so good to have you home,” was the general sentiment, repeated over and over from everyone from her high school English teacher, now retired, to her cousins, whom she’d once considered nearly as close as her own sisters.
“Please tell me you’re staying!” Jenna said as she leaned in for a hug. The youngest of Steve’s daughters, she had the quietest personality, and a good, genuine spirit that Britt had always been drawn to growing up. Unlike Maddie, who could be a handful when she was little, Jenna had been happy to sit and play dolls or let Britt style her hair.
Britt hated the thought of letting Jenna down. “I’ll be here for at least the next two weeks.”
At least? Why had she said that? Her smile slipped as Gabby picked up on the suggestion in her choice of wording, her eyes glimmering with interest.
“I need to find Robbie,” Britt quickly said. “Have you seen him?”
Now Jenna and Gabby exchanged less than subtle glances. Gabby’s smile was positively teasing. “Find Robbie? Is that so?”
“Stop,” Britt warned. “It’s just some…business stuff.”
Gabby looked disappointed. “I think I saw him near the gazebo,” she offered.
“Oh, look!” Jenna said sweetly. “Here comes your dad and that nice nurse taking care of him!”
Britt stiffened. The last thing she needed was to watch Candy flaunt her father all over the festival as if they were some sort of couple. With the promise to catch up with them later in the day and to of course stick around long enough to hear Jenna’s entire concert, Britt excused herself.
Finally, she spotted Robbie, standing patiently near the part of the square carved out for games, watching as Keira’s face was painted with streaks of pink and purple glittery paint.
“A unicorn?” she guessed, coming to stand beside him. He seemed to stiffen at her approach, but his expression relaxed into a smile when he caught her eye.
“It’s a butterfly, I believe,” he said mildly, giving Keira a doting smile.
“You came!” Keira cried out happily, as she bounded off the chair, pausing briefly to admire her painted cheeks in the mirror.
“I couldn’t resist,” Britt said. “I’ve actually been manning my sister’s booth all morning.” She turned to look up at Robbie as he watched Keira scamper ahead to check out the pie eating contest.
“Why didn’t Conway Orchard set up a booth for this event?” she asked.
He frowned down at her. “Have they ever hosted one before?”
“No,” Britt said, at least, not to her knowledge. She hadn’t been around the past few years to know what her father was or wasn’t doing with the business, but now she realized that nothing had changed, or grown. And that maybe Amelia was right; he was too set in his ways to realize that if he wanted things to continue into the next generation, he’d have to adapt.
“It’s a good idea,” Robbie surprised her by saying. “Maybe he’d be interested in doing something next year.”
The way he said that last sentence told Britt that he doubted this every bit as much as she did.
“I mean, look at all these people. And they’re not just from Blue Harbor. It’s a tourist event, too. And it pulls in other communities. We could introduce the cider to new people. Same with the wine.” They came to a stop where the pie eating contest was taking place, and she felt a burst of frustration building. “We could have sponsored the pies for the event.”
“The pies are only sold at the market,” Robbie pointed out. “And Maddie’s got her hands full. She only does it because it’s tradition.”
“And no one has considered how to turn that into profit?” Britt countered. “This pie eating contest is a great marketing opportunity!”
Now Robbie slid her a knowing look. “You�
��ve seen the books. Hate to break it to you, Britt, but the farm is hardly in a position to be giving things out for free. It’s bad enough when the tours come through and people start eating the fruit right off the bushes.”
He grinned at her to show that he was trying to make light of a difficult situation, but she struggled to feel the same.
“I used to love that pie eating contest,” she mused as she watched a little girl sink her face into a strawberry pie, her hands held firmly behind her back. She laughed to herself, imagining what she must have looked like, and knowing that she hadn’t even cared at the time. She’d been light and carefree back then, before the heaviness encroached and everything changed.
She patted her bun, making sure the chaos of the food stand hadn’t made a mess of it.
“Oh, I remember,” Robbie said, chuckling. “I never understood the draw myself. You never did tell me if you were doing it for the free pie or for the chance to win.” He studied her for a moment. “But now I think I know the answer to that.”
“Which is?” She folded her arms over her chest and blinked up at him, not sure she liked where this was heading, and not just because she had the uneasy feeling that they were entering a new zone, more than friendship, but not quite flirting.
“You like to win,” he said. “You like to come out on top.”
She had the distinct impression that this wasn’t a compliment. “Doesn’t everyone enjoy the thrill of victory? The rush of success?” She’d felt it every time she saw a company pulled from disorder. It was a feeling of power, but more than that, it was one of control, of knowing that she could right the wrongs. That sometimes, things didn’t have to be as dire as they first appeared.
That something in this confusing, unsettling world could be made right again. That there was hope.
Robbie shrugged. “Some people just like the experience.”
“Well, doing something just for the experience is a hobby,” Britt countered. Her mind was back on the orchard, on all the avenues they could take, on all the ways they could tap into new markets and expand.