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  The red-haired woman turned around and his words disappeared. He sucked in a breath.

  Alice Birmingham.

  He dropped his phone and the glass screen cracked into an expensive spiderweb. While bending to pick it up, he completely missed the grand entrance of the couple and straightened in time to see Alice looking at the picture on her phone with a satisfied smile.

  June leaned over to look at Alice’s phone. “You got a good one,” she commented. “Hi, Nate. I’m sure Alice will share it with you. She’s just as invested in special events here as you are.”

  Alice stared at Nate and raised her eyebrow. It was only a slight consolation to notice her flushed cheeks. Was she as shocked as he was?

  “Sorry,” June said. “I should introduce you two. Alice Birmingham, I’d like you to meet Nate Graham. You’ll be working together a lot now that Starlight Point is going big on PR and special events.”

  Nate extended his hand automatically and tried to play it cool in front of his new employer. He always played it cool, just as expected from a public relations expert.

  While they shook hands, Nate was aware of June’s interested stare. The Hamiltons were all smart, perceptive people, and it wouldn’t be easy to fake a cordial relationship with Alice for long. Why, in the midst of a full-blown wedding and on his second day of a job he needed did Alice have to walk back into his life? He’d been prepared to see people from his past when he came home to Bayside. In most cases, it would be a welcome benefit to returning home so he could be the son his dad needed right now. But Alice?

  “Have you two met before?” June asked.

  “Yes,” Alice said.

  “No,” Nate said at the same time.

  June crossed her arms and glanced from one to the other. “Okay, so maybe.”

  “Bayside is a small town,” Alice said.

  Nate couldn’t help noticing that five years had hardly changed Alice. She still had cream-colored skin and auburn hair that waved away from her face. Petite and slender, she looked as if she could be twenty, not the twenty-seven he knew her to be. Despite her delicate beauty, there was steel underneath. He’d learned that the hard way.

  “When I stopped by the wedding,” June said, “I was on my way to wardrobe. I’m checking on the costumes for the fall festival. I hope our head seamstress, Gloria, is still talking to me after all I’ve asked her to do. Maybe I can meet with both of you on Monday to talk about fall festival details.” June wrinkled her nose and tilted her head. “Even if you two only maybe know each other.”

  Nate nodded and Alice did the same.

  “Those weekends are coming up fast and we have a lot to discuss,” June added. She stayed a moment more as if she had something else to say, but then she turned and left the rotunda. Nate was relieved to see her go, but his nerves still trembled, his pulse on high alert.

  The orchestra played “Pachelbel’s Canon in D” as the bride and groom made a sweep of the room arm in arm, greeting their guests. Everything smelled like flowers and cake, but Nate felt nothing but sick misery. Each wedding he’d attended over the past five years, as his friends had gotten married one by one, had helped toughen his defenses when it came to weddings, but he still worked to shape his expression into PR neutral.

  Alice pointed toward the cracked phone in his hand. “That’s not a great beginning.”

  “You’re not exactly in a position to lecture me about beginnings.”

  “I’m not lecturing you,” Alice said. “June wasn’t kidding when she said we’d be working together. My office is right across the hall from yours.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  Alice looked away and then returned her gaze to him. She bit her lip. “I’m serious about a lot of things.”

  “But not marriage.”

  “Weddings are my business now. It goes with the special events territory at Starlight Point.”

  Nate laughed heartlessly, but there was so much chatter and music echoing in the room that only Alice would hear it. “Oh, the irony.”

  Her cheeks colored deeper, and Nate felt a tiny stab of guilt for being so harsh. Not to mention the fact that harassing a beautiful woman at a fairy-tale wedding would not look good for him or Starlight Point.

  “It’s not as ironic as you think,” she protested. “I guess you could consider it a way to atone for what—”

  “For what you did,” he said bitterly.

  Alice shook her head. “For what I didn’t do.”

  Nate wished he was anywhere else. He’d often wondered what he would say if he ever saw Alice again. There was no worse time and place for this reunion than the present. He should shut his mouth and leave if he wanted to keep his emotions together and keep his job. He’d be no good to himself or his dad if he got fired on his second day working for Starlight Point.

  He just had to ask one question.

  “Have you ever wondered what would have happened if you hadn’t walked out on our wedding?”

  Alice’s shoulders dropped and she looked at the floor. “Every day for the last five years.”

  Without another word, Nate spun and retreated through the lobby, walking as fast as he could without running and making a spectacle of himself.

  CHAPTER TWO

  IN THE FIVE workdays since the glorious wedding on the beach, Alice had refreshed the special events webpage ten times a day, hoping to see the pictures she had emailed to Nate Graham from her phone. She vaguely wondered if he had replaced his phone or had the screen repaired, but that was not her problem. She had plenty of problems of her own to worry about, such as making sure her events were perfect and the revenue generated was enough to ensure she kept her job.

  In addition to refreshing the website, she had replayed her meeting with Nate. Of all people...Nate Graham. Why was he back in Bayside? And did she really have to plan and publicize weddings side by side with him? The fates could not have doled out a more suitable punishment if the universe was looking to mess with her perfectly ordered life.

  On Friday afternoon, the previous weekend’s wedding pictures finally appeared along with text describing the venue, flowers, music and food. There was an accurate description of the bride’s gown, the flowered arch on the boardwalk, the size of the party, the cake and the new couple’s first song. Of course it was accurate. Alice had written it herself and emailed it to Nate, who now had full control of Starlight Point’s webpage and social media. Her jaw tightened when she got to the part explaining that the “staff” of Starlight Point had coordinated the event.

  “I’m the staff,” she muttered to herself. Along with some dedicated helpers, special events sat squarely on Alice’s shoulders. Yes, there were many Starlight Point employees she called upon to set up chairs and serve food and drinks, but all the planning and worrying fell to her.

  Virginia Hamilton was her right-hand woman these days. Retired, but still actively involved and interested in the amusement park she and her late husband had run for forty years, Virginia enjoyed being involved with special events. She wanted a job that would have her out and about in the parks and would be different every day.

  While Virginia and Alice were staying busy bringing in people and revenue with their special events, they’d also been planning for the fall festival weekends. It was Alice’s brainchild and a large part of the reason Starlight Point had hired her. She also suspected it was a large part of the reason they had decided to hire a full-time PR person.

  “Great,” she said as she dug through her filing cabinet. “I probably got him that job and now I have to work with him.”

  “Sandwiches,” the office assistant, Haley, announced. “There was a line at the employee cafeteria. Sorry about the wait.”

  Haley was a fresh-faced eighteen-year-old working her last summer job before going off to college. She showed up early every day—even though Alice had to
ld her it wasn’t necessary—and was always happy to help. Her enthusiasm reminded Alice of being just out of high school when it seemed everything was possible.

  “Thanks,” Alice said. “I didn’t mind the wait, but now that I think about food, I’m pretty hungry.”

  Haley pulled one foil-wrapped sandwich out of the bag and put it on Alice’s desk. “Eat it before it gets cold.”

  “In a minute. I just have to find some stuff I stashed in this filing cabinet—plans for the fall festival weekends. Those start next weekend, and I’m pretty sure we’re going to need twenty-five-hour days to get everything ready.”

  “You’ll be ready. I’ve seen you pull off some amazing things this summer.”

  “Thanks.” I can use all the encouragement I can get.

  Haley lingered in the doorway, combing her fingers through her bangs and frowning. “I’m thinking of getting blond highlights because I’m tired of my one-color hair. What do you think?”

  Alice closed the filing drawer. “No way. If you just get highlights on top of your dark hair, you’ll look like a baby skunk.”

  “Oh,” the younger girl said, her smile fading.

  “A very cute baby skunk,” Alice said quickly. “But if you want a change, I think you should go with layers.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Haley said.

  “Or a Starlight Point tattoo,” Alice said, grinning. “Someplace really obvious.”

  Haley shook her head. “Very funny.”

  “You asked. I think, in your heart, you probably thought it was a bad idea before you even heard my opinion.”

  “At least I know that if I do something drastic and it looks awful, I’m sure you would tell me the truth.”

  “I would. Unless it’s a tattoo—those are permanent. I’d tell you the truth if it was something you could fix.”

  Haley smiled and crossed the hall to deliver Nate’s lunch. She and Nate laughed and talked for a while before Haley finally said goodbye. Of course she was trying to make a good impression on Nate—she wanted to become a public relations media consultant. And Nate was charming and pleasant when he wanted to be. Because he worked in PR, he knew how to make things look and sound good.

  And, she had to admit, he still looked good, unchanged by the years except for a little more muscle and maturity in his expression. Tall with dark hair and eyes, he could easily win people over, which meant they could be working together a long, long time. There was no way to avoid the problem, and she should be honest with herself, march across the hall and...say something to Nate.

  Instead, she sighed, squirted some sanitizer on her hands and sat down at her desk to eat. Maybe lunch would fuel her up to face what she had to. She rolled the sandwich over and read the name written in black marker on the package. Nate.

  Alice groaned and closed her eyes. She could eat Nate’s sandwich, which, according to the wrapper, was ham, mustard and lettuce. That would mean giving up her favorite: turkey, provolone and pickles. Or she could bravely march across the hallway and trade with him.

  “I believe this is yours.”

  She dropped the sandwich and looked up. Nate leaned on her office door, a sandwich in his hand. He had beaten her to it, and she couldn’t think of a thing to say.

  Instead of speaking, Alice held up the item he’d come for. He crossed her small office, took his sandwich and laid hers in front of her without a word.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Nate was almost to the door, but he paused and half turned. “You’re welcome. I know you hate mustard.”

  He slipped into the hallway, leaving her no chance to respond. It was just mustard, of course, but the fact he remembered... That was going to make it twice as hard to work with the man she’d chosen not to marry only hours before their own wedding.

  * * *

  “I USED TO love pumpkin pie,” Henry said. “But I don’t think I can ever enjoy it again after this.”

  Virginia laughed. “It’s not so bad. If we take enough painkillers tonight, we’ll live to do this all over again tomorrow.”

  She took a small pumpkin from a wagon and tossed it to Henry. He walked to a flowerbed, glanced at a color-coded map and placed it beside a green squash.

  Nearby, the midway fountain had been transformed into an autumn display of colors and textures. All summer long, refreshing spray from the light blue splash pad tempted children to play in the water and cooled the air for people passing by. The water was turned off for the fall festival, though, and a giant inflatable pumpkin crouched over the area. Children could run through the pumpkin’s grinning mouth while their parents rested on the benches circling it.

  In addition to the hay bales and pumpkins artfully placed around the seating area, Virginia and Henry were laying out various sizes and colors of pumpkins and squash in the flowerbed. When completed, the vegetables would create a fall landscape scene, but it took attention to detail. It reminded Virginia of the paint-by-number projects she’d done with her children during long, snowy Michigan winters.

  “I better look at the diagram again,” Henry said. “I don’t want our artwork to look like a couple of teenagers dashed it together so they could quit early.”

  “Nothing against the kids,” Virginia said, “but old age does have its advantages.”

  Henry stepped close and stood over Virginia, blocking the sun and smiling down at her. Small wrinkles around his eyes were accentuated by the smile, and she noticed one white hair mixed with his blond eyebrows.

  “We are not old,” he said. “Especially not you.”

  “Fifty-seven earlier this summer,” Virginia said. Henry stood so close she could smell his soap. It was clean and practical, just like the rest of him. He had a lean, straight build and walked with confidence, as if he were a man accustomed to responsibility. She’d noticed, though, that he was happy helping out however he could, and he seemed to take pride in executing the fall displays exactly as depicted on the directions. His skill was probably a result of following flight diagrams and paying attention to detail. It was also probably a relief, she thought, to fuss over gourds instead of turbulence after years of being responsible for hundreds and thousands of lives.

  She’d felt a similar relief when she handed over Starlight Point to her children Jack, June and Evie. A grieving and shocked widow at the time, she hadn’t thought she could put one more thing on her plate, and she was confident her children were stronger than she was. In the five summers since her beloved Ford had succumbed to a heart attack, she’d seen for certain the strength of her three children.

  And her own strength.

  “I’m just a little closer to sixty than you are,” Henry said, drawing her back into their conversation. “But I feel like eighty after setting out straw bales and lifting pumpkins all day yesterday.”

  “Is it still better than sitting in the cockpit of a plane?”

  Henry ran a hand through his hair and looked down the midway as if he were considering the question. Virginia wondered if he missed his old job now that he was retired. Without a family, did he feel lonely? She’d felt as if she’d been set adrift when Ford died, but she still had her children to give her a reason to get out of bed.

  “Most days, yes. It’s nice not worrying about hijackers, lightning and schedules.”

  “We have lightning and schedules here,” Virginia said.

  “So I guess I feel right at home,” he replied, smiling. “Just don’t bring in any hijackers for my benefit.”

  Virginia laid a paper copy of the decoration placement diagram on the wagon’s wood floor and smoothed it with both hands. “Alice saw to every detail,” she said.

  Henry leaned over her shoulder to view the diagram, and Virginia felt the warmth from his body. There was a touch of autumn in the air, just enough to make his warmth welcome. It had been a long time since she’d thought about
men and heat in the same sentence. Or noticed what a man smelled like. Or wondered if one found her attractive.

  “Mom.”

  Virginia turned so quickly she almost knocked Henry off his feet. Evie, blond ponytail making her look as if she were twelve and not twenty-five, handed a bottle of cold water to her and Henry. “I could get someone else to do all this physical labor.”

  Virginia realized her heart was racing. Was it the new awareness of Henry, a man with whom she’d worked all summer? Or was it this new consciousness being interrupted by her daughter—and making her feel guilty?

  There was no reason she should feel guilty.

  “You mean someone younger?” she asked Evie, keeping her tone light and playful.

  Evie laughed. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “Maybe a little. Can I help it that I love my mother?” Evie put an arm around Virginia’s shoulders, which increased her distance from Henry. He stepped back, eyes on the ground. “And, besides,” Evie continued. “I don’t want you to wear yourself out. You have to save energy for Gladys.”

  Virginia smiled at the thought of her new labrador.

  Henry removed the cap from his water bottle and took a long drink. “Who’s Gladys?”

  “My new dog.”

  “New?” Henry asked.

  “I had a dog named Betty for years,” Virginia said.

  “Roughly one hundred years,” Evie added.

  “She wasn’t that old,” Virginia protested, and then she laughed when Evie waggled her eyebrows at Henry. “Fine, she was fourteen but she was wonderful.”

  Evie straightened her smirk into a neutral expression. “She had many wonderful qualities in addition to her less wonderful ones.”

  “Don’t we all?” Henry asked. “So is your new dog—?”

  “Gladys,” Virginia supplied.

  “Gladys. Is she a puppy?”

  Virginia shook her head. “She’s about four or five.” She’d given serious thought to a litter of puppies curled into a ball at the humane society, but then Gladys had stolen her heart.