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Nate and Johnny grabbed the coffee carafes as I taped the last pink box closed, the scent of the fresh pastries still lingering in the air. I dashed out the store after them and got there just in time to see they had finished loading Nate's truck. Perfect timing is perfect.
"I appreciate you doing this for me," Nate said with a smile, his dark, brown eyes soft with gratitude. He took the box from me and gave me a hand climbing into the cab.
"Bitter Beans appreciates your financial support," I half-joked, settling into the middle of the bench seat.
Now, one of the things that makes Nate such a great boyfriend is he catches on when there's some subtext to what I'm saying. "Everything okay?" he asked.
I took the box from him as Johnny climbed in the passenger side next to me.
"Oh, Granny just mentioned..." I stopped myself. I wanted to pretend like this was nothing and we'd get over it, but the thing about having a great boyfriend, as opposed to a jerk boyfriend like Trevor, is that you actually tell them the truth and they can handle it. "When Granny was tranquilized by that nutcase, she missed a lot of work. I didn't keep the shop open as much as I should have during the busiest week of the year and the finances are tough." I couldn't help the huge sigh that escaped from me. "I feel like it's my fault."
"It's not your fault!" Nate protested. His outrage that I would even consider carrying around this guilt made me feel a little better.
"I was running around when Granny needed me to mind the shop...."
"If it hadn't have been for you, Johnny would be dead."
"I appreciate that!" Johnny announced as he put on his seatbelt. "And, hey, I have some money from my inheritance. I'll come down to buy breakfast every day!"
"Thanks, Johnny," I said, patting his knee. Johnny had a rough time growing up and Granny had kept him fed and cared for when his dad couldn't be bothered. It was really sweet he wanted to return her kindness now.
"Seaside operates on too tight a margin," Nate said as he climbed behind the wheel. "It isn't right that people should have to place their entire future on one week of tourism."
"And me buying breakfast," added Johnny.
"We've got to figure out a way to make this better."
"If only there were lots of weeks of tourism..." Johnny mused, staring out at the ocean. "I was thinking..." And then he stopped. I guess that was as far as the thought went.
Nate turned on the engine. "No, you might be on to something."
Johnny brightened, buoyed by Nate's approval. "Aw! Thanks, cuz!" He reached across me to give Nate a high five, getting only slightly strangled by his seatbelt, and then settled back to reflect. "Yeah, Founders Week is so much fun, we should have one, like, ALL THE TIME. It would be AWESOME. Donuts and cotton candy every day..." He leaned his head against the side window dreamily. "That would be the best... Cotton candy..."
Using one hand to drive, Nate intertwined his fingers with mine in the promise that he was going to help fix this. I drank in the way the streetlights softly passed across his high cheekbones and flat, crooked nose. Sometimes, just having someone to hold your hand through a rough spot is the thing you need most.
We drove the short distance to the town hall. It was a medium-sized clapboard building painted white with black shutters. It had been built around the turn of the century, but with the wear from the wind and salt air, I think every bit of it had been replaced at some point or another. It certainly wasn't elegant, but it was a part of the town. Most everyone who lived here had rented it for their wedding reception or graduation.
As I entered the front doors, I was hit by the familiar smell of old latex paint and lemon floor degreaser. It brought back memories of church socials and summer events. A lot of Friday nights had been spent here. Mom and Granny would drop Johnny and me off for movies or dances. So many happy memories. I hoped that this evening would not wreck them all.
Granny was manning the welcome table and gave us a wink as we brought in the refreshments. Nate dropped everything off and then made a beeline to get ready.
Smart man.
The smell of Bitter Beans' deliciousness brought folks stampeding over. I practically had to elbow my way out. At least everyone seemed in a good mood, though. I hoped it would last.
I craned my neck over the crowd and spotted Nate shuffling his notes at the front podium. His floppy, brown hair kept falling into his eyes and, nervously, he kept trying to push it back. This was, really, the first time Nate had ever run a public meeting. I thought about how different he was from Trevor. Trevor, with his dreams of winning political races and basking in the adoration of a grateful town. And Nate, who just wanted to do right by everyone.
I caught his eye and gave him a great big thumbs up. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor and disappear. But instead, he picked up the gavel and tapped it authoritatively on the table.
"If I could call this meeting to order!"
The buzz of citizens died down as everyone took their seat. But just as a hush fell over the crowd, the double-doors to the room opened. Everyone turned to see the latecomers.
I could barely contain my eye roll.
Standing there to make their grand entrance was Seaside Barbie, also known as Madison, and my stupid ex-boyfriend, Trevor. Madison, true to form, was wearing a body-hugging, mini-skirt, suit jacket, and stiletto heels. She flipped her long, blonde, flat ironed hair over her shoulder innocently. I hoped her shoe got caught in one of the floorboards. She had tried to pressure Nate into selling the island to a company she represented so they could turn it into a gentrified, tourist trap, cruise ship port. She then glommed on to my ex-boyfriend and I still couldn't figure out if it was because she actually liked him or if she just thought somehow it would piss us off. Joke was on her. She was more than welcome to Trevor. Especially since he decided to play dirty with our coffee customers.
Nate pretended they weren't completely disrupting things as they crawled over a bunch of people to get to seats in the middle. There were a ton of empty seats in the back near the door.
Nate cleared his throat. "So, as I said, I would like to call this meeting to order. If we could have the minutes from the last meeting read by our board secretary..."
The meeting droned on with all of the political minutiae. I glanced over at Trevor. My ex had wanted to be a politician. He even majored in political science in school and broke up with me because he thought I might be holding his career back. Unfortunately, his uncle turning out to be a murderer did more damage to his future than I ever could.
With no clear path, Trevor took over his uncle's abandoned bar, renaming it and giving it a makeover. I thought it was cute naming it Trevor's Saloon and embracing the old west vibe of the Main Street. Now I wanted a duel at high noon.
Trevor looked super bored. I think he was more interested in the perks and the power trip of political office rather than the ugly truth of what being a community leader actually entailed. Madison, however, was leaning forward, hanging onto every word. I'm pretty sure her conniving little brain was looking for some loophole that would allow her to get her claws in and complete the development project.
Finally, the meeting moved on to new business.
"So, as you know, a lot has happened in Seaside since I arrived," said Nate. The room tittered. It was the understatement of the year. Nate motioned to Johnny. "We learned of my uncle's proposition to turn Seaside into a cruise ship port, but as you know, we applied and received historic protection."
Madison gave out an audible huff of annoyance. She had really been gunning for that commission. Fortunately, she didn't have any allies in the audience that I could see.
"Now, this comes with some grants and financial support from the state, but we need to let them know what ideas we have for helping to promote the history of Seaside. It was brought to my attention that the economic security of Seaside often comes down to the financial success of the Founders Festival."
Granny reached over and gripped my hand. I looked up at her and she was smiling at me. She mouthed, "Thank you."
Nate, however, continued talking. "This seems like a precarious position to be in. For all of us. So, I'm seeking out ideas for other events that might bring people to our shores."
"How about a cruise ship?" Madison called out. "You'd have all the people you would want!"
The room laughed, but Nate waved them down. "ASIDE from selling out the soul of our island and opening it up to crowds we don't have the infrastructure to support, not to mention potential environmental damage."
Wanda raised her hand. Her blue spiky hair stuck out in the crowd. She was one of Granny's posse and her souvenir shop was one of the fixtures of Main Street. "Well, maybe we just need to hold regular festivals. Maybe it needs to be a monthly thing. Something that would draw people out more than once a year. Make us a regular place to go instead of just a place to go for special occasions."
"That's what I was saying!" agreed Johnny. "Cotton candy 24/7!"
A murmur of agreement for Wanda's suggestion, if not for Johnny's amendment, rippled through the room.
"Great suggestion!" Nate said, trying not to quell people's enthusiasm. "The problem is there isn't quite enough time to put together carnival rides and vendors before the end of the summer... Does anyone have ideas for something we could do this month? Or next month? Maybe something already happening that we could partner with and help promote?"
"Well, we have something going on," piped up a polite voice. We all turned around to see who it was.
It was a wispy girl named Sally. I recognized her from behind the reception counter at the Grand Hotel. "We had a group rent out our hotel for a bakeoff a few months ago. Maybe I could approach them about making it more public. Perhaps include some local talent?" She gave a meaningful glance to Granny.
What can I say? Granny's baking is legend around these parts.
"Did I hear someone say 'bakeoff'?" Madison squealed, clapping her slender hands. "Like that British show with that guy with the sexy eyes?"
"AND the funny women and the female master baker..." I muttered under my breath.
"I volunteer for the brownies!" Johnny announced, raising his hand.
Madison leaned toward the council and flashed a winning smile. "That's what I always liked about you, Nate. Always coming up with creative solutions." She then acted like a brilliant idea had just dawned on her. "You know, while you and I did not exactly get off on the right foot..."
Nate and I exchanged glances. She had tried to steal the entire island out from under Nate.
Madison continued. "I am very good at my job. I connect people. I know this person needs to know this person, and I introduce them. I start the party!" She placed her hand on her heart like a martyr. "And I would like to offer my services almost free of charge to promote this bakeoff and get it publicized so that someone actually shows up for it in four week's time."
Sally protested. "That's great, but I really should just double check with the organizers before we glom on."
"Wait... what?" Madison asked absentmindedly as she pulled out her pink phone and rapidly began texting. "And... sent."
"What did you just send?" Nate asked.
She put her phone back into her handbag. "Just let all my followers know 'hashtag Seaside Bakeoff is LIT. 21-day countdown commence!' is all."
"We're what?" asked Wanda. She leaned over to Marnie, who owned the yarn shop. "Lit? I thought that was still illegal."
"No!" Madison replied with a mock laugh like she totally understood why people were confused. "'Lit' is where something is really popular and sort of a social scene. I can see why you never heard of it before." Before Wanda could reply, Madison stood up. "Ladies and gentlemen, your viral campaign has begun."
Granny leaned over to Wanda. "No chance anyone's offering a vaccine, huh?"
Sally looked helplessly at Nate, but all he could do was shrug. The damage was done. So, Nate heaved a heavy sigh and threw up his hands. "Okay! Okay. If you want to create some sort of masterplan viral campaign, have at it."
"We'll talk compensation later," Madison said meaningfully.
"No need for backroom deals!" Granny shouted from the refreshment table. "We're all right here. How much do you want?"
"It won't be expensive!" she protested. She patted Trevor's knee. "We just want to be involved in the success of Seaside and this seems like the perfect opportunity. We'll submit a budget for your approval."
"So, Madison and Trevor will be doing some marketing for us. How about anyone else? Does anyone else have some ideas on how to make this event a success?" Nate asked, inviting the room to chime in.
The room began buzzing with excitement. Hands went up from the local business owners volunteering specials and things they could do to help with the event's success.
I know it was about the future of the island and with Madison involved it was probably going to get sabotaged, but selfishly, I was starting to get a little excited. A bakeoff. Visions of spun sugar clouds and caramel dipped hazelnuts filled my head.
I still wanted to apply for the Cordon Bleu in Paris someday. I wondered if I might be allowed to enter and, if so, how I might stack up. Did I have what it takes? Shoot, just to be able to meet other people who were doing what I wanted to do seemed like such an opportunity.
I looked up admiringly at Nate. Here he had just been trying to take care of the island. And instead, he may have provided me with the first step toward my dreams.