All at once, she stilled, her smile turning to a frown as she scowled directly at him.
“The people of Greyfin Bay deserve access to Tessa Dare, Dell McCleary.”
He scowled back. He had never said they didn’t.
Even if he had no idea who Tessa Dare was.
He also did not want to know how Mae knew his last name.
“Oh, Mae Kellerman, by the way.” She held out a hand before he could respond, chin held high. “She/they pronouns.”
Dell massaged the bridge of his nose.
He never quite understoodshe/they, if he was honest, or any similar combination he’d mostly seen on folks’ online profiles. There had to be one Mae preferred. Dell was a person who liked to get things right. He wished people would just tell him what they wanted.
Not that it mattered to him, what Mae Kellerman wanted. Whether she secretly wished he would usethey.
He did not reach for her hand.
Which he was aware was a dick move. But maybe if he was a dick, she would leave faster.
“Yeah.” Mae’s arm flopped back to her side. “Thought so.”
“I never said Greyfin Bay doesn’t deserve a bookshop.”
“Greyfin Bay doesn’t even have a library. The closest one is in Lincoln City.”
“I am aware,” he said tightly, meeting her renewed scowl. Nothing like a Portlander spouting information to him about his own town, as if he didn’t know.
It reminded him of the moment on the phone that had irked him the most. The haughtiness in her voice when she’d said she waspretty sureGreyfin Bay didn’t have a queer community center, either.
He’d only gritted his teeth, unwilling to have that fight with a stranger, especially first thing in the morning. But he’dwantedto ask why the hell she was so confident about that. Sure, she’d likely driven by fewer rainbow flags on her way through town than she normally did in whatever neighborhood in Portland she hailed from. MoreTrump Wonflags in their stead.
But that didn’t mean there weren’t queer people here. That they weren’t able to take care of themselves.
There were queer people everywhere.
“What this placedoesdeserve,” Dell made himself continue, “is a business that won’t fail within six months. Run by someone who actually plans to stay longer than those six months, no matter what.”
Mae might have been more stubborn than some, but he’d seen her type before. Had received similar pleas from Portlanders, from ex-Silicon Valley types, taken by the beautiful moodiness of the rocky Northwest shores, the mists of the Coastal Range hills. Taken by a whim to relocate here, to swing the small town life, start that small business they’d always dreamed of.
Except that’s what it always was: a whim, soon dissolved in the realities of that small town, small business life. Harder and less idyllic than it appeared in Hallmark movies.
“Cool.” Mae rested her hands on her hips, one fist still clutching her book. “Super awesome how you’re judging my personal ethics and business skills right off the bat here.”
Dell sighed.
“What is your connection to Greyfin Bay, Mae Kellerman?”
It was quick. Gone in a flash as her eyes turned stormy and determined.
But for a half second, Dell saw it. An uncertainty, veering on panic.
“My best friend just died.” Her voice wavered on the last word, and Dell did his best to not wince. The knowledge that Mae might be on the verge of tears again, in a real way now, kicked Dell in the chest. And brought home how ridiculous it was that he was even still talking to her. He did not need to know that Mae Kellerman’s best friend had just passed away. He didn’t need to know anything about this person at all.
Even if those stormy eyes were a fascinating shade of blue, almost gray. Almost like the waves that crashed into the sea, just beyond their shoulders.
“He wanted his ashes left here. He cared about this beach. And he left me a mission, before he left, along with a shit ton of money, and…” Mae swallowed, pausing to breathe. But she never once broke eye contact, which, like that voicemail, some part of Dell admired. “And I just know, now that this is in my head as what that mission could be, I won’t be able to let it go.”
