Downtown Chatham was the height of Americana summer, with its sidewalks and storefronts and cheerful New England fare. Most of the village shops resided in historic buildings with clapboard siding and flower-filled window boxes and flags.There were eclectic boutiques, like Yankee Ingenuity and Fisherman’s Daughter, and art galleries and eateries and ice cream. “Can you believe Chatham Children’s Shop is still around?” Holly leaned out the window. “My mom used to take me shopping for a fancy back-to-school dress at the end of each summer, when all I wanted was one of their toys.”
They rolled by Eldredge Library and beautiful Kate Gould Park, where the Chatham bandstand featured jazz music every Friday night and people went early in the morning to stake out their spots on the grass. The Chatham Squire, where they tried to sneak in for a beer as teenagers. Past the pink awning of the famed Candy Manor, where a line of children already snaked down the sidewalk. At the turnoff for the Impudent Oyster, Ben put on his signal.
“No,” Holly said, sitting up taller. “We can’t go there now. Look at how we’re dressed!”
“Relax,” he said, rolling by. “You think I’d be seen with you looking like that?”
She punched him playfully.
Ben continued through the snug neighborhood streets of gray-shingled cottages as Holly gazed out the window. At the crest of the hill by the nine-hole golf course he turned onto Shore Drive. When he pulled into the fish pier parking lot Holly exhaled happily.
“Lobster rolls?” he asked.
“Wait. You hate lobster.” It was true, at least when he was a kid. “You used to gag if we evenmentionedlobster. Your poor parents had to cook them outside or you’d hide in your room with the door closed threatening to pass out.”
“Well,” he admitted sheepishly, “I still think it smells gross. But I love the way it tastes!”
“I don’t believe it.” She was grinning. “When did that change?”
He was about to tell her: when Laura took him home to Connecticut to meet her parents and they served Maine lobsters. He caught himself. “A few years ago,” he said instead. “Drenching it in butter helped.”
“Everything’s better with butter.”
They ordered their rolls at the pier’s fish market and took them up the stairs to the deck. From there you could watch the fishing fleet chug into Chatham Harbor and right up to the docks to unload their catch. In the water below, fat sleek seals glided and rolled, making gentle spouting noises as they came up for air. Holly had already unwrapped her lobster roll and taken a bite. “Heaven,” she said, closing her eyes. “Thank you.” Her eyes popped open again. “Wait. I think this is the first lobster roll I’ve had all summer!”
“What about the lobster boil you hosted the other night?”
She shook her head. “For the clients.”
“Sounds like you work too much,” Ben said, taking a bite of his. The warm lobster meat was soaked with butter, and he licked his lips. Holly handed him a napkin.
“So. Tell me what you think about my offer.” He was hopeful she’d take it. It did make good business sense, but after spending the morning together he was reminded how much he also liked being around her.
“I think we should give it a go,” she said.
“Really? That’s great!”
Holly hesitated. “But how does that work if you’re leaving?”
“Simple. We get things off the ground and running together this summer, and when I leave I hand it back over to Jonah. Of course, I’ll remain on the sidelines for consulting and whatever else you guys might need.” He looked at her emphatically. “I won’t leave you hanging, I promise.”
“I see.”
“Does that change your mind?” He got the sudden feeling it might.
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m still interested.”
“Can I ask—what made you decide to join forces?”
“The bridesmaids. The night you stepped in and offered to host the Suttons for the oyster tour.”
“The bridesmaids?” Ben was confused.
“They were gushing about how good-looking the tour guides were. They wouldn’t shut up about it, in fact.” She glanced around jokingly. “Where is Jonah, anyway?”
Ben rolled up his napkin and tossed it at her. “Very funny. So how did the wedding weekend go, anyway?”
Holly groaned. “How much time do you have? Let’s just say it was a total disaster, even after you saved the day.”
