“It’s never too early for anything,” Candy said, leaning toward Lisa. “Hi. You look like a mermaid who figured out how to walk.”
Lisa blinked, surprised into a genuine smile. “I’ll take that.”
“Everyone’s very charming this morning,” Cass murmured, amused. “We should buy stock in Advil since it’s clearly erased all of the hangovers.”
The air shifted. Mary approached—tall, beautiful in a way that ignored time, with long dark hair and eyes that carried a storm waiting for lightning to strike. She nodded at Alba, Cass, and Harmony. Her gaze slid over Tosh, then deliberately skipped Lisa.
“Mary,” Cass said, gently. “Join us.”
“I’m not staying,” Mary answered, even as her hands wrapped around the warm cup Alba slid her way. “I saw the ferry come in and wondered if you were here.”
Up close, there was something new in her eyes—a quiet, unsettling calm, like she’d already made peace with a decision no one else knew about yet.
“Everyone sees everything here,” Tosh said knowingly.
Mary ignored him. Her attention settled on Harmony, a quiet weight Harmony didn’t flinch from.
“You’re back,” Mary said.
“I am,” Harmony answered. “How are you?”
Mary’s mouth curved—half smile, half scar. “I’m an island. I erode slowly.”
Candy sighed. “Poetry before caffeine? Dangerous.”
“Everything’s dangerous,” Mary said. “Especially people who think they’re not.”
“Okay,” Cass cut in brightly, slicing through the mood. “We’re taking our lattes and emotional baggage to the streets. Anyone who wants a lunchtime sequel can meet us at Bluewater.”
“Make it dinner,” Tosh said, already pivoting. “Marlin Club after. We’ll give Harmony the grand tour again.”
“Because it’s changed so much in the last couple of months?” Cass teased.
“It changes every night,” Candy said, dreamily. “That’s the point.”
“Are you playing today?” Harmony asked.
“You know it. No days off for the wicked.” Candy winked and drifted away, already scanning for her next muse.
“Good. I need inspiration,” Harmony called after her.
Cass and Harmony spilled back onto Crescent Avenue, the area glittering as if freshly polished. Harmony breathed it in—salt, heat, and possibility—and let the island slide beneath her skin like it always did. She needed to wash away the last year and her feeling of doom.
They strolled past Bluewater.
“Save you a patio table?” a server called.
Cass nodded. At the art gallery, a pale man arranged blown-glass jellyfish in a case.
“Reception at six,” he murmured. “Local builders showcase. New work.”
“Builders showcase?” Cass nudged. “Sounds like a Hallmark special.”
“Don’t be mean.” Harmony hid her smile. “It’s useful. Half of the island’s gossip group will be there.”
“And the other half will bartend,” Cass said.
At the harbor rail, they watched kayakers slice color across the water. A child dropped a plastic shovel and wailed. A woman admired her reflection in a martini she shouldn’t have been drinking before noon.
