Page 44 of The Marine's Homecoming

Her expression shifts when I say that. Something softens behind her eyes and her hand drifts to her belly almost unconsciously. Then she looks at me with this quiet kind of wonder that makes my heart do a stupid somersault in my chest.

"You're going to be a good dad, Luke," she says, almost at a whisper.

"You think so?"

"I know so." She takes a step closer and reaches up and straightens the collar of my shirt, which doesn't need straightening. Her fingers brush my neck and linger there for just a second. "And maybe one day, our baby will join us on the pier and work like his daddy."

The thought of having a son makes my chest swell with pride, but I wouldn't mind a little girl, either. I just want Hannah, and I want her to be happy. More than I've wanted anything else my whole life.

"I should get back to work," she says, gesturing at the mountain of papers on her desk. "Festival permits aren't going to file themselves, especially now that I have to redo half of what Dorsey touched."

"You need help with any of that?"

"I need help with all of it," she admits, but she sighs and adds, "but I'll manage."

"Yeah, you will." I back toward the door and tap the frame with my knuckle. "But the offer stands. Anytime."

She sits back down in her chair and picks up her pen, and I walk out that door feeling like a million bucks. With the wind in my sails, there's nothing on earth that could take me down. I just feel it in my gut. Hannah will be mine before this is all over with. And I can't tell you how good that makes me feel.

26

HANNAH

Gerald Fitch has been talking about the one-way roads for eleven minutes. I know because I've been watching the clock on the wall behind Evelyn's head, counting the minutes while my stomach churns and my notes sit untouched in front of me. Gerald owns the barber shop on First Street and he's convinced the one-way traffic pattern is killing his business. And he brought charts.

"If you look at the second graph," Gerald says, tapping his poster board with a wooden ruler, "you'll see foot traffic on First Street dropped by eighteen percent after the change. Eighteen percent, Mayor Grant. That's customers walking right past my door because they can't find parking." He's so emphatic and it would be comical if this weren't his fourth time here.

Evelyn nods patiently from her seat at the center of the panel table. She's good at this, the listening part, the making-people-feel-heard part. She folds her hands on the table and gives Gerald her full attention even though we've had this exact conversation at three previous meetings.

"Gerald, we appreciate your bringing the data," Evelyn says. "We'll add it to the traffic committee's review and revisit the issue in July. Does that work for you?"

Gerald grumbles something about July being too late for summer tourist season, but he rolls up his poster board and sits down. I feel for the guy, but my mind's somewhere else entirely. It's been somewhere else since I walked in and saw Mr. Dorsey sitting in the gallery seats in the back row, smiling at everyone who looked his way.

He's here because he knows this meeting is about the festival, and he thinks he still has a seat at the table. But he's wrong about that, and he's about to find out.

Evelyn moves through the next two agenda items quickly, a Parks Department update on the restroom renovations at Bullard’s Beach and a brief report from the fire chief about staffing for the festival weekend. Then she turns to me and says, "Hannah, I believe you have an update on the Bandon Summer Festival. The floor is yours."

I straighten in my chair and open the folder in front of me. I'm wound tight enough to snap, but I've rehearsed this in my head for three days. I know exactly what I'm going to say and how I'm going to say it. And I know just how Calvin Dorsey will respond, which is why I'm on edge.

"Thank you, Mayor Grant." I look out at the room. There are only about thirty people in the gallery tonight, but enough people to cushion his response if he's too upset about it. I'm hoping he has enough tact to not blow his top in here. "I'm pleased to report that festival preparations are on track for our July Fourth kickoff," I say. "Vendor contracts are finalized, stage construction begins Monday, and as most of you know, pier twohas been approved for full commercial and public use, which gives us expanded capacity for maritime events and waterfront vendor access during the festival weekend."

A few people clap at that. Tank whistles from the third row and I have to bite back a smile. It's good to know I have marina staff support after the past several months of having to share the pier with them. Tank, more than others, has been chomping at the bit to have his mooring back. His boat was the first one moved back to pier two.

"I also want to take a moment to publicly thank Mr. Calvin Dorsey for his generous support during the planning phase." I look directly at him when I say this, and I keep my voice warm and sincere because the people in this room need to believe it. "Mr. Dorsey stepped in during a critical period and provided financial support and logistical assistance that helped us stay on timeline. His contributions have been invaluable, and this council owes him a debt of gratitude."

Dorsey tips his head in a small nod, and the people around him turn and smile at him. A couple of them pat his arm in a show of gratitude. All the while, he soaks it in like a glutton.

I can't even articulate my distaste for the man. This whole time, I knew something was off, and I couldn’t trust myself enough to follow my own intuition until Luke helped me see the light. Well, not anymore.

"That said," I continue, and I take a more stern voice as I do, "as we enter the final phase of preparations, I've made the decision to consolidate all remaining logistics under the council's direct oversight. This is a standard restructuring that allows us to streamline operations and ensure full accountability as we approach the event. Mr. Dorsey's involvement in theprocurement and planning process has concluded, and I want to assure everyone that the transition is seamless."

The room doesn't react much to that. Most people here don't know what Dorsey was actually doing, so to them this sounds like boring administrative housekeeping. But I can feel Dorsey's eyes on me, boring through me, and I keep my gaze on Evelyn. If I look at him right now, I might lose my nerve.

"That's wonderful, Hannah," Evelyn says, beaming. She turns toward the gallery. "Mr. Dorsey, on behalf of the Bandon Town Council, thank you for your generosity. This festival wouldn't be where it is without your support."

"It's been my pleasure, Mayor Grant," Dorsey says, standing up to address the mayor. "Bandon is a special community, and I'm honored to have played a small part. But if I may, Mayor Grant…" He waits until Evelyn acknowledges him with a nod then continues. "I appreciate the kind words, Hannah, but I want to make sure I understand. You're saying my role is finished?"

The room goes still. Evelyn looks at me, then at Dorsey, and I can see her political instincts kick in. She can tell what I'm trying to do and wants to keep this meeting under control. Hopefully, Dorsey's pushback doesn't get messy.