Epilogue

Ben

Eight weeks later, after my brother trashed my shop, it was ready for its grand reopening. Lucas and I had worked brutal hours to get it ready once construction was completed.

The painter left after sorting the final touches, and my bow windows had been remade to include a little flourish at the ends, bending back in to draw a customer along the curve of the glass and into the shop. It doubled as a people-watching platform that overlooked the beach.

A small crowd had gathered on the footpath surrounding the giant red ribbon A small crowd had gathered on the footpath surrounding the giant red ribbon Sammie had presented me before the sun had risen, assuring me that no grand opening, re- or otherwise, was complete without a ribbon-cutting ceremony.

I had been so focused on the new menu that I had forgotten locals and tourists might expect something more.

Lucas loitered at the edge of the crowd next to Kari, his hands jammed in his pockets, grinning at something she said.

“Scissors,” Sammie murmured at my side, pressing an enormous novelty pair into my hand.

I blinked at them and shook my head. The crowd tittered as I raised them.

Sammie spoke to the gathered knot of people when it became clear that I wasn’t going to, and her words washed over me as I looked up at my dream come true, a second time. Sundae Dreaming hadn’t failed under duress and had helped to give a little boost to Sammie’s as well.

She touched my arm gently. I looked up in surprise and wielded the giant scissors with as much flourish as one can, bending to cut the ribbon.

A cheer went up as the glossy red strands fluttered to the side of my shop. I left them there, pushing the doors open to let the crowd stream in. Hands grabbed at me, and I posed for as many selfies as I could before Sammie tugged my hand again.

The shop looked just like it had before, but this time around I had managed to add in the additional funds for bigger tables and a wider counter. Things that I hadn’t been able to afford or hadn’t known that I needed the first time.

“How does it feel?” Sammie asked, letting me tow her around the counter and begin to serve.

“Like I never left.” I grinned, focusing on the person in front of me.

Sammie and Kari waitressed for us, and for the first half an hour, I immersed myself in the wonderful feeling of actually working again.

“I think your girl wants you.” Lucas tapped my shoulder as I passed an extra-large sundae over the counter, sliding a branded napkin with the hashtag printed on it beneath the ceramic dish.

I glanced over to where Sammie waved at me from the storeroom entrance. A black cloth hung on the wall beside her.

“What is she doing?” I asked the air, as Lucas turned his attention to the next customer.

“Come on.” Sammie pulled me toward the black cloth, slipping her fingers into her mouth and letting out an ear-piercing whistle.

Silence fell over the shop—I think, my ears still rang—as people clustered around us.

Sammie looked around at the crowd with a smile.

“I used to come in here every Sunday. It’s been a place of quiet contemplation, while I worked on my own dream. Ben helped with that.” She blushed, looking quickly at me, earning her a few giggles. “But more than that, he showed me that no matter what, dreams can’t be taken away, unless you let them. So I have two more dreams for you. And one of them belongs to the wonderful man who gives Trinity Beach such wonderful memories.”

Sammie took a deep breath, her flush deepening, and tugged the cloth away.

A huge portrait in a very 1950s style took up most of the wall above the tables.

Long legs and fabulous curves were encased in a frilled swimsuit, but my attention was drawn to the face that stared down at me with sparkling eyes and a familiar, cheeky smile.

A light touch on my arm drew my attention. I stared down into a much older version of that same face.

“She almost did me justice in my heyday,” Bessie whispered in a conspiratorial tone, slipping her arm through mine. “Don’t you think?”

I slipped my other arm around Sammie, kissing her soundly. “I think she’s done a magnificent job,” I said to Bessie. “Thank you,” I added to Sammie, where she snuggled into my side. “That’s so good it could almost be a photograph.”

Sammie gave me a small, shy smile as people cooed over Bessie’s portrait.

Sundae Dreaming had been resurrected, and as I returned to the counter to serve my customers, I realized Sammie was right. Dreams only died when faith in them was lost.

As I added an extra cherry to Miss Bessie’s Sunday ice cream, I remembered Sammie’s comment.

“What was your dream?” I asked, making sure she held the cone securely.

Bessie only gave me a secretive smile and walked over to where I’d made sure her favorite table still sat.