"Copper Moon has a way of keeping people," Sabrina added. "I've been here or near here my entire life. But I run Norman House Cottages, and before that, my grandparents' bed and breakfast. I've met so many people who have stayed and have the same story." She nudged Colby with her elbow.
"It's the water," Hank said. "Something about the way the light hits it. Gets under your skin."
Tessa thought about the copper glow at sunset, the way it painted everything in warmth and possibility. "I can see that."
"What made you choose Copper Moon?" Bree asked. "Of all the places you could have gone."
Tessa hesitated. The truth was complicated: a desperate Google search for "quiet beach towns," a rental listing with photos that made her chest ache with longing, a leap of faith that had landed her in a stranger's cottage.
"I saw a picture of the harbor at sunset," she said finally. "The water looked like copper, and I thought... I thought if I could just get there, maybe I could remember how to breathe."
The table went quiet. Not an uncomfortable silence, but a weighted one. The kind that said everyone there understood, in their own way, what it meant to need a place to land.
Brian's hand found hers under the table. Just a brush of fingers, there and gone. But she felt it like a promise.
"Well," Bree said, lifting her glass, "here's to finding places that help us breathe. And to the people we find there."
They clinked glasses, and Tessa felt something shift inside her. A door opening. A wall coming down.
After dinner, Bree led her through the house to a small studio at the back, where canvases lined the walls in various stages of completion. The work was stunning; bold and emotional, full of movement and light.
"This is what I do now," Bree said, gesturing around the room. "Instead of selling people things they don't need, I make things that make me happy. It pays less, but it costs less too, if you know what I mean."
Tessa knew exactly what she meant.
"This one's new." Bree pulled a canvas from the stack and turned it around. It showed the harbor at twilight, the water rendered in shades of copper and gold, boats bobbing gently at their moorings. In the foreground, two figures sat on the seawall, their silhouettes dark against the glowing water.
"It's beautiful," Tessa breathed.
"I saw them last week. Didn't know who they were, just liked the image." Bree tilted her head. "Now I'm wondering if it was you and Brian."
Tessa stared at the painting, at the two figures leaning slightly toward each other, connected without touching. Had that been them? She couldn't be sure. But something about the image made her heart squeeze.
"He's a good man," Bree said softly. "Gruff on the outside, but solid all the way through. He's been through some hard things. Things he doesn't talk about. But he's the kind of person who shows up when it matters."
"I'm starting to see that."
"Good." Bree set the painting back against the wall. "Because I think he's starting to see something in you, too."
The drive home was quiet, the kind of silence that felt comfortable rather than empty. Tessa watched the trees slide past the window, their shapes dark against the star-scattered sky.
"Thank you," she said as they turned onto White Gull Lane. "For bringing me tonight."
"You fit," Brian said simply. "They liked you."
"I liked them." She hesitated. "I liked seeing you with them. You're different around them. More relaxed."
"They're family." He said it as if it were obvious. Like family was the simplest thing in the world.
"Chosen family."
"The best kind."
They pulled up to the cottage, and Brian killed the engine. The motion lights along the back fence glowed softly, activated by some small creature moving through the night. Tessa watched them for a moment, thinking about footprints and phone calls and the thread of unease that still wound through her quieter moments.
"The calls were from the hospital," she said. "But that doesn't explain the man at the fair. Or the footprints."
Brian was quiet for a moment. "No. It doesn't." He turned to face her, his features half-lit by the glow from the porch light. "Has anything like this happened before? Someone watching you, following you?"
