Susan smiled as she walked up the front path with Kathleen. For years, she’d wondered why Kathleen and Patrick hadn’t been more than friends. Then, six months ago, everything had changed. They’d finally admitted what everyone else had seen for years—that their friendship had always been part of something much deeper.
Watching them navigate their new relationship had been one of the unexpected joys of Susan’s move to Sapphire Bay. They were careful with each other, tender in ways that came from decades of knowing someone before starting a new life together.
Susan looked at the chrysanthemums Frank had planted in large terracotta pots flanking the door. Orange, burgundy, and gold blooms created a riot of fall color against the white clapboard house.
Before they could knock, Isabel opened the door, her face lit with welcome. “I saw you from the window. Come in, come in. Lynda’s already here, and she’s brought something to show everyone.”
The interior of Isabel and Frank’s home welcomed Susan like an old friend. Overstuffed furniture in shades of cream and sage filled the living room, and family photos covered nearly every surface. But today, Susan noticed something new—fresh paint on the shelves that lined one wall.
“Frank’s latest project,” Isabel said, catching Susan’s gaze. “He decided the shelves needed updating, which somehow turned into repainting the entire room. You know how these things go.”
“They look beautiful,” Susan said, studying the soft gray-blue that complemented the room’s color scheme. “When did he finish?”
“Thursday night, around eleven. I kept telling him it could wait until morning, but you know Frank. Once he starts something, he has to see it through.” Isabel’s voice held affection mixed with exasperation. “Come through to the kitchen.”
Susan and Kathleen followed Isabel through the living room. Lynda stood by the kitchen window, looking out at the backyard where a massive oak tree blazed with autumn color. She turned as they entered, her face brightening.
“There you are! I thought you’d gotten lost.” Lynda pulled Susan into a quick hug, then did the same with Kathleen. “Wait until you see what I brought.”
The kitchen table was already set with their favorite coffee mugs and a vase of colorful flowers. A plate of shortbread sat beside the flowers, the cookies cut into perfect rectangles and dusted with sugar. Susan added her cinnamon rolls to the table while Kathleen unveiled her apple crumble.
“This is turning into a feast,” Isabel said as she poured everyone a cup of coffee. “I’m glad I made a double batch of muffins.” She gestured to a basket lined with a checkered cloth and large blueberry muffins.
“Where’s Frank this morning?” Kathleen asked, settling into one of the chairs.
“Out with Tommy.” Isabel’s expression softened at the mention of Frank’s grandson. “They’re building something in Frank’s workshop. A birdhouse, I think, though knowing those two, it’ll probably turn into an entire bird mansion.”
The women laughed, and Susan relaxed into the familiar rhythm of their Sunday coffee mornings. These gatherings mattered more than she’d expected when she’d first moved to Sapphire Bay. Four women, four different lives, but a friendship that anchored her to her new life.
Isabel poured coffee for everyone. Steam rose from the mugs, carrying the rich aroma that signaled the real beginning of their morning. Susan took a cinnamon roll and pinched off a bite, letting the warm pastry melt on her tongue.
“Now,” Lynda said, reaching for a tote bag she’d set beside her chair. “I have to show you what I found yesterday.”
She pulled out three scarves, each one more beautiful than the last. The first was a deep forest green with threads of gold woven through the fabric. The second featured blues and purples that reminded Susan of a Montana twilight. And the third was burgundy shot through with copper, the colors shifting as Lynda moved the fabric.
“They’re gorgeous,” Kathleen said softly, reaching out to touch the green scarf. “Who made them?”
“A woman named Teresa Martinez. She just moved here from New Mexico and set up a studio in the old mill building. She uses natural dyes—plants, minerals, and things she gathers herself.” Lynda draped the burgundy scarf around her shoulders. “I bought this one for me, and the others as Christmas gifts. I couldn’t resist.”
“I don’t blame you,” Susan said. Each detail of the scarves was lovely, from the hand-rolled hems to the subtle variations in color that gave each piece depth and character.
“I talked with Teresa for almost an hour,” Lynda continued, carefully folding the scarves and returning them to her bag. “She’s planning to teach dyeing classes in the spring. I’ve already signed up.”
Isabel selected a blueberry muffin and split it open. “It’s wonderful having so many artists moving to Sapphire Bay. Between the Arts and Crafts Center and the new gallery opening next month, we’re becoming a cultural hub.”
“Speaking of the Arts and Crafts Center,” Kathleen said, giving Susan a knowing look. “I heard through the grapevine that a certain caterer made an impression at Saturday’s premiere.”
Susan felt heat rise to her cheeks. “Everyone enjoyed the food.”
“More than enjoyed,” Kathleen pressed. “Piper told me three people asked for your contact information. And Paul Renard raved about your mushroom phyllo cups to anyone who would listen.”
The mention of Paul’s name made Susan’s pulse quicken. She sipped her coffee slowly. “Paul and I are meeting tomorrow, actually. He’s asked me to collaborate on some new dishes for the restaurant.”
Three faces turned toward her with varying degrees of surprise and delight.
“Susan, that’s wonderful!” Isabel set down her muffin. “Will you do it?”
“I think so.” Susan pulled off another bite of cinnamon roll, unable to hide her smile.
