CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Camille grabbed the corners of another large trash bag and used the coastal wind to her advantage to help her open it all the way. Like a kite, it caught the air, practically sailing out of her grip.
It was only ten in the morning, and they’d already filled over a dozen of the large black bags, with just as many currently in the hands of volunteers traipsing up and down the beach collecting litter and debris left behind from the storm.
Camille hadn’t imagined things would come together so effortlessly with only a few days of prep, but word got out quickly in Seascape Shores.
It had helped that the local church also closed its doors that Sunday morning, encouraging the congregation to be the hands and feet in their community and get out there to beautify the beach. Camille was more than grateful for the extra volunteers that generous act provided.
She smiled as her eyes roved over the beach, her gaze ultimately landing on Morgan in her cheery pink dress and dimpled smile worn like a beautiful accessory.
“I just put out another plate of scones.” The baker folded the pastry box down and tucked it under her arm. “But I was goingto head back to the bakery and pick up a few extra poppyseed muffins to set out on the food table, if you think the volunteers would eat them.”
“Iknowthey would eat them, but you’ve already gone above and beyond, my friend. Take a break. Enjoy the sunshine and the breeze. I know for a fact that everyone has had at least one of your delicious pastries. Some even two.” She made a face at Foster, who only returned a guilty expression before using his trash grabber to pick up an empty cardboard cup wedged under a piece of nearby driftwood.
“If you’re positive you don’t need them,” Morgan said, unsure. This selfless woman always went above and beyond for her community. “I don’t want anyone to go hungry.”
“We’re good on the food front, I promise. And you’ve already put in so many hours this weekend. You’re more than welcome to stay and relax, but if there’s somewhere else you need to be, feel free to head out. We’re good here.”
“Actually.” Morgan’s eyebrows lifted on her forehead. “I’m meeting the owner of that old taffy shop later this afternoon, but I was thinking of calling to see if she might be able to show me the place earlier.”
“Oh, really?” Camille’s inquisitive antennae perked up, but her husband quickly shot her a silencingit’s-none-of-your-businesslook.
“I’ve had my eye on the place for a while, actually. Even before I signed a lease with my current landlord. But I always worried it would be a teardown sort of thing, and I don’t have the money, nor the resources, for a project of that scale.”
“It’s not a teardown.” Foster stopped pretending he wasn’t eavesdropping and joined the conversation. He shook a plastic baggy from the trash grabber and chucked it into an open wastebin placed next to the back deck of The Getaway. “I knowthe property. It’d be a big remodel, but you could work within the existing structure.”
“Really? You think so?”
“Pretty sure. But I could go with you to the meeting and check the place out more thoroughly, if that’s something that might be helpful.”
Morgan’s light green eyes sparkled. “You have no idea how helpful that would be. After all of the tenant improvements I did on my current place, I’m not sure I have it in me to start completely over from the ground up.”
“You won’t have to start completely over. The framework is there. It just needs your creative touch.”
The words rang truer in a much deeper sense for Camille. She’d always had the right framework for the life she wanted to live, but it wasn’t until she let the right people—most notably, Foster—in, that her happiness really started to take shape. All she had to do was look back at the week she’d just experienced to see it. From the gala to the trash cleanup, to Skip’s generous offer to gift her The Getaway; her life was bursting with blessing after blessing. And she had a hunch Morgan was about to experience some of that Seascape Shores serendipity firsthand.
Foster and Morgan exchanged information, agreeing to meet up later that afternoon.
“I thought we were going to stay out of it.” Camille gave Foster a look.
“There’s a difference between putting your nose where it doesn’t belong and extending an offer of help when someone might need it. Sounds like Morgan already had her eye on the place. I just offered to be there when she took a closer look.”
“Either way, I’m grateful she’ll have your expertise to guide her. Selfishly, I’d really love to have her bakery even closer to the Inn.”
Foster slipped his hands around his wife’s waist and drew her close for a sweet kiss. “You and me both.”
“What’re you two lovebirds talking about?”Lovebirds?It wasn’t a phrase anyone had used to describe them, though Camille supposed the same term of endearment could be used for the couple currently coming their way.
Tabitha and Ben were hand in hand, stuffed garbage bags gripped in their free ones.
“Just that Morgan might turn that old taffy shop into a new location for her bakery.”
“Really?” Tabitha lined up her bag next to the others already propped against the deck. “That place has been vacant for years.”
“I know, and I think it’s just what this coastline needs, don’t you?”
Tabitha shrugged. “I think it could be a good fit. But what would happen to her current location? It would be a shame to lose a business on Main Street.”
