44

 

Despite everything that happened, Hum Harbour Daze was a success. Attendance was up—maybe because of everything. And when it was all over—the parade, the dance, the races, the fireworks—Geoff and I took a long walk with Geoff’s new dog.

Caber really wasn’t a beach dog, but he’d adapt. He waddled along the shore ahead of us, nose to the ground, checking out every new smell.

“I’m proud of you,” Geoff said.

I picked up a chunk of pale blue sea glass the same color as his eyes. “For what?”

“Pulling off Hum Harbour Daze. Catching Claude’s killer.”

“Not making a spectacle?”

Laughing, he drew me close. “There was still a spectacle.”

“But at least I didn’t cause it. This time.”

“Will you chair Hum Harbour Daze again next year?”

I shook my head. “I told the committee what I’d told you. Next summer I’ll be too busy with my new husband to worry about the festival.”

“I like the sound of that.” He kissed me thoroughly.

So did I.