“As soon as possible?” Jamie made a goofy, eager face, and Ava blushed.
So the Quinn family started the new year with the joy of a wedding. While Joanna and the sisters debated the best seasons to get married—Jamie couldn’t get a word in edgewise—Emery left the warmth of the crackling fireplace for the crisp, clean chill on the second-level deck, where a New Year’s snow had started to fall. The icy gusts sent flakes skating over the green pool cover.
“Why don’t we take a walk?” Dad stood beside her with her coat in hand. “We’ve not done that in a long time.”
“Are you sure you want to leave the party?” Emery slipped on her coat.
“They won’t miss us,” he said, heading down the deck stairs and around the side of the house. “And about what Ava said, she—”
“Forget it, Dad.” She tugged on her hat and gloves, then wrapped up in Mom’s old plaid wool scarf. “She’s not wrong.”
Through the glow of the neighbor’s lights and the streetlamps, she caught a hint of sadness in his smile, as if he was afraid to say what he felt.
I wanted it to be you.
It wasn’t a regular conversation when she was a girl, but every now and then he’d say,“Don’t be ina hurry. I want to walk you down the aisleto the right man.”In those days, she was his one and only daughter. Then death changed their story.
Dad slipped his arm through hers. “So, what about the job in Sea Blue Beach?”
“Still there. Elliot Kirby texted me tonight.”
“And?”
“He asked me to take the job. I’m afraid Lou talked me up a bit too much.”
“I don’t know, Em. Youwereeverything to theFree Voicewhen Lou struggled with his health. You kept it going for him.”
“Okay, fine, I can be an editor-in-chief and do it well. But you know it’s not about the job.”
“It’s about the location.”
“How can it not be? Dad, it’s Sea Blue Beach. I haven’t been there sincethatsummer.” Emery’s foot slipped on a dusting of snow, and Dad steadied her as they made their way down the sidewalk.
Tonight, their pretty, suburban Cleveland neighborhood wasquiet under the falling snow and twinkling Christmas lights. Somehow, the atmosphere seemed to respect their conversation.
“If the job was in any other city, would you say yes?” Dad, a Case Western Reserve professor, appealed to her sense of reason.
“I’d be packed and head out tomorrow morning,” Emery said.
TheSea Blue Beach Gazettewas a historic family newspaper—a unicorn these days—in beautiful Sea Blue Beach, the gem of the north Florida coast. Its focus was mostly microlocal journalism, which Emery loved. News aboutyou, literally. About the citizens, local businesses, the schools, and government. The press run was semiweekly, which meant she’d have time to develop a vision for growth.
“Elliot lives in Atlanta, so he won’t be popping in every other day, and I’ll have complete reign.”
“Sounds perfect. Is the pay good?”
“Definegood.”
Dad’s laugh crackled against the cold. “Can you survive?”
“I can.” She smiled as Southerly Park came into view. Of course he led her here. “I was thinking, if I did go, I’d stay at the Sands Motor Motel.” Emery glanced up at him. “In Cottage 7.”
“I see. You’d prefer that to a house or an apartment? As I recall, the cottages were small and a bit out of date.”
“I’d have two bedrooms. And it’ll only be me unless visitors come. If it’s out of date”—meaning if it looked like the cottage she’d shared with Mom during her last summer—“I wouldn’t mind.”
As they crossed the street into the park’s light, Dad said, “Remember that big red sled you got for Christmas when you were ten?”
“How could I forget? It snowed all day, and we rode down every little hill we could find.”
