“I ordered seventy. Always order extra for holidays.” Dani tapped something on her tablet. “Also, Channel 13 wants to film the lobster bake for their evening news segment on classic Maine Fourth of July celebrations.”
“Television?” Kate’s stomach clenched. “We’re not ready for television.”
“We’re ready,” Tom said, finishing his call. “Free publicity during the summer season. We’d be stupid to say no.”
They all looked at Kate, waiting. This was still her call, though they all had input. She thought about the inn in March, held together with hope and Ben’s repairs. Then she looked at it now, painted and proud and full of life.
“Tell them yes,” she said.
Dani grinned, already drafting the confirmation email.
Inside, the lobby buzzed with guests in red, white, and blue. Mrs. Porter had returned with her entire book club, taking over the side garden with the authority of regulars. The couple from Boston whose wedding reception they had saved with the emergency cake had come back, bringing friends and telling everyone the story of the cake disaster turned triumph.
By mid-morning the parade crowds began to gather. Guests claimed prime spots along the front fence, mugs of coffee in hand, pastries balanced on napkins. Dani moved through them with her clipboard, checking names against room numbers and reservations for the afternoon lobster bake.
Kate stationed herself on the porch, right where the steps met the walkway, the natural point where people stopped to ask questions, compliment the inn, look for bathrooms, or adjust their view.
She smiled, nodded, made small talk, handed out extra napkins. At the same time, her eyes kept sliding to the end of the street where the parade would appear.
And to the cross street where Ben’s truck usually came from.
Idiot, she told herself silently. This is a town parade, not a private roll call. You’re supposed to watch the floats, not scan the crowd for one particular man.
All the same, as the distant sound of drums reached them and heads turned toward the harbor, her heartbeat picked up. If he was going to make it in time for the parade, he would have to arrive soon. Maybe he would just appear beside her the way he had with coffee so many mornings, quiet and solid and exactly where she needed him.
“Looking for someone?” Dani murmured, joining her with a tray of pastries.
“I’m looking at the parade route,” Kate said, perhaps a little too quickly. “Making sure people have room.”
Dani’s smile said she wasn’t fooled, but she let it go.
The parade rounded the bend, perfect small town Americana rolling toward them. The high school band played Sousa marches slightly off key. Veterans rode in convertibles, uniforms snugger than they once had been, waving at the cheering crowd. Children on bicycles decorated with crepe paper wobbled past, proud of their independence. The lobster boat float won again, as it always did, because tradition mattered more than competition.
Guests lifted phones and cameras, capturing the moment. The inn’s new sign appeared in frame again and again, its lettering crisp against freshly painted wood. Dani leaned close enough for Kate to hear her.
“We’re going to be in so many vacation photos,” she said softly. “I already have three ideas for how to use this in our marketing.”
Kate smiled, but her gaze kept sliding along the sidewalks, scanning faces. Each flash of a ball cap, each tall shape in a plaid shirt made her heart lift for an instant, only to fall again when the features resolved into a stranger.
It was ridiculous. She was too old for this kind of fluttering, too tired, too busy. Yet there it was, a quiet, insistent wanting she could not quite talk herself out of.
He’s working, she reminded herself. He told you where he would be. You’re not a teenager waiting by the gym doors.
Still, when the last float passed and the street began to clear, she found herself stepping down from the porch, walking a little way along the sidewalk as if she had some practical reason to check on the trash cans.
No truck. No familiar silhouette. Just cheerful chaos and the faint smell of exhaust lingering in the warm air.
She exhaled, told herself she was fine, then went back to work.
After the parade, the real effort began. The lobster bake required almost military precision. Tables were arranged on the back lawn, the fire pit Ben had constructed specifically for this purpose ready for use. Corn, potatoes, and lobsters had to be timed to finish together. Rosa’s extended family had been recruited to help serve, their experience with large gatherings evident in their efficient movements.
Channel 13 arrived just as the first lobsters went into the pot. The reporter, a young woman who looked overwhelmed by the July heat, interviewed Dani about the inn’s renewal while the camera captured the scene, guests in summer clothes laughing over picnic tables, the harbor sparkling behind them, the inn presiding over it all like a benevolent guardian.
Kate watched from the kitchen window, proud of her sister’s poise. She moved through the kitchen checking platters and refilling trays, offering Marcy another set of hands whenever a rush hit. Outside, laughter floated in on the breeze.
She thought of her father. Last year, they’d wheeled him out for an hour, let him sit in the shade and watch the town he loved. This year, the thought hadn’t even been raised. He tired too easily now. The memory care staff said too much stimulation left him agitated and confused for days.
He wouldn’t have known them anyway. On their last visit, he’d called Kate “nurse” twice and then simply patted her hand, pleasant and distant, a man floating in a life only he could see.
