Just like Fallon had promised him, she didn’t look at Linda with pity. She talked to her the same way she always had—warm, direct, unafraid. And Linda’s shoulders began to ease, gratitude flickering in her eyes.
Falcon took a steadying breath. “At least, promise me you’re not planning to run laps or volunteer as tribute for the cake walk.”
Trent snorted. “Mom already threatened to sit on me if I push it.”
“I meant it,” Linda said primly.
Fallon laughed. “Good. Both of you take it slow. And drink water. It’s healing.”
“We won’t stay long,” Linda said. “Just wanted to be here. For Tessa. And for you.”
Fallon nodded, unable to speak around the sudden tightness in her throat. The moment shimmered—fragile, real—and then the next group stepped up to buy raffle tickets, pulling her back into motion.
Trent and Linda drifted toward a quiet table in the shade, Trent waved. She lifted her hand in return as a man stepped into her line of sight.
Button-down shirt worn under a sport coat. Khaki slacks. Sunglasses. Average height, average build, average everything. The sort of man she’d forget two minutes after passing him in Publix.
Still—something tugged at her memory.
He smiled. “Afternoon.”
“Hi there,” Fallon said, offering him a roll of tickets. “How many?”
“Let’s do a hundred dollars’ worth.”
“That’s very generous–thank you.” She tore the strip, handed it over, and dropped his cash in the jar. He lingered—staring just long enough to be intrusive.
“Fallon Reeves, right?”
She stilled, suddenly aware she was on display. “Yes?”
He laughed lightly. “Ah. Thought so. You probably don’t remember me.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, her cheeks heated. “I meet a lot of people at this event.”
“We met long before the fundraiser started,” he said gently. “I was a business acquaintance of your dad’s. Quincy Bellows.”
Her breath hitched—not fear, but surprise. “You… knew my dad?”
“Oh, yes.” His smile softened. “We worked at the same company. Different jobs and different offices, for that matter. I travel for the corporate team, and one year I ended up down here, and he and I dinner. You were still in high school, I think. I met you briefly—just a hello in the hallway.”
A faint memory flickered—her father ushering a man through the living room. She couldn’t recall the details. Just a blip of a fellow looking similar to this man having a quick drink in the living room before going out to dinner to discuss… she had no idea. All she remembered was waving from the kitchen before heading out to meet Tessa.
Her stomach twisted. “I think I remember. I, at least, remember your face.”
He tapped his chest and smiled as if that meant the world to him. “My wife came across the flyer for the fundraiser online. She recognized your name. I put the pieces together and… well, I wanted to come pay my respects. Your father was a good man. I liked him.”
Emotion pinched her throat. “Thank you.”
“Would you have time,” he asked, “for a drink? I only have maybe an hour to spare before I need to head over to Sarasota. I’d love to chat about this project and exchange a few stories about your father.”
It was innocent. Perfectly reasonable. And Fallon wanted it—wanted to hear stories about her dad from someone who’d known him ways she hadn’t. Her chest ached with it. The chance to learn something new, something unexpected. A memory that wasn't hers but could become hers. Like maybe, just for a moment, her father could reach through all that grief and loss and give her something lighter. Something that made him feel alive again instead of just gone.
“Sure,” she said. “There’s a table over there. We can grab some sweet tea?—”
“Maybe someplace that isn’t so loud,” Quincy said. “I saw some tables on the side of the Crab Shack? They had reserved signs on them. I assume they’re for volunteers.”
“Sure. We can go there.” She snagged her cell off the table. “I just need to get that girl over there to cover for me. Give me one second.” She turned and scurried off toward one of the volunteers. She really didn’t need the help since there were always two people at the raffle table, but she wanted the opportunity to text Buddy. Just to be safe.
