by Ellen Joy
Tonight, those same neighbors seemed mesmerized by the newcomer in the black dress. It didn’t take long for them to know the whole story of Katie and Matt. How she had just started her own design firm. Half of the town grabbed a business card about some form of design. Had she done menus? Logos? Branding? Could she design a website like Frank and David’s but for an inn?
Throughout the night, his mother and uncles made sure to tell anyone who seemed even slightly interested.
Matt watched from the other side of the room as Katie sat with Vivi and all the other female family members. After Elizabeth and Lauren told another embarrassing story of him as a kid, he decided to grab a glass of champagne. Although, he didn’t mind being the subject of ridicule as long as Katie enjoyed herself, and she seemed to be enjoying the stories more than the storytellers. That’s all he wanted—for Katie to be happy.
“So, you went for the girl,” his dad said, popping a chocolate truffle in his mouth.
Matt nodded, looking out at her. “I went for the girl.”
Funny how much can change in a year. Last year, when things were at their worst, he made a resolution. He had never made resolutions, but that year he wanted to forget the past. Never did he imagine that the past was exactly what he needed in the end.
As he looked out, watching Katie with his family, laughing as though they were already family, he knew he was going to do everything he could to keep her in his future.
KATE KEPT HER EYE ON Matt as he walked up with their coats and handed her scarf to her. “Come on, let’s go,” he whispered in her ear as he grabbed her hand. Only twenty minutes remained before midnight. “We have to hurry.”
Kate laughed, confused but thrilled. “Where are we going?”
“The beach.”
“Is this why you made me bring Vivi’s boots?” Her stomach twirled as she threw on her coat and followed him out of the bakery. Suddenly, the ocean was the only place in the world she wanted to be.
Matt opened his truck’s door and they switched out high heels and leather shoes for boots and snow pants. Matt grabbed a couple blankets from the backseat, then grabbed her hand again, pulled her toward the water.
As they reached to the beach, he tugged her toward the sound of the waves. They stopped just at the tip of the wave.
“This is the best spot to see the fireworks,” he said, laying out a quilt in soft sand, safe from the tide.
They sat down, and he wrapped another blanket around them as she curled up close to him, feeling his warmth through her coat. He pulled her closer and she nestled into his arms, leaning back into his shoulder.
Waves played a soft melody as they sat looking out into the endless night sky. The moon’s reflection twinkled against the water like Christmas lights.
Every part of her body tingled with happiness. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt everything that had happened in her life, happened for a reason. That all the heartaches and disappointments led her to this exact place in her journey. And at that moment, she wanted her journey to continue in Camden Cove. Forever.
She watched Matt as he gazed out at the water, but he turned as he noticed her looking.
He leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips.
It was one of the best moments of her life.
Then, she noticed a twinkle from below. Something Matt held in his fingers made her look away from the water.
It was a ring.
“Katie O’Neil, will you marry me?”
A blue sapphire round cut twinkled under the moonlight. Set in a vintage rose gold setting, it was the most beautiful ring she had ever seen.
“Yes!”
He smiled, leaned in again, and they kissed as the fireworks exploded above them.
One
ALLY WILLIAMS LEANED up against her apartment’s front door as Jean-Paul kissed the back of her neck, whispering in her ear. With a twist of the knob, she opened the door, stumbling backward into her apartment as she scuffed at her shoes, losing height as they slipped off. Jean-Paul held onto her, pulling her up to his lips and kissing her. Through the open drapes, half of the eighteenth arrondissement could see the two of them.
“Tu es belle,” Jean-Paul’s thick French accent still made her knees wobble every time he spoke, even though half the time she still didn’t know what he was saying. Two years in Paris, and her French still needed a little help with sweet nothings in her ear. Every cell in her body exploded as his breath warmed her earlobe. The French poetry she couldn’t understand suddenly the most beautiful thing she had ever heard as he kissed her.
Then her phone rang.
She disregarded the ringing and kissed him back. He pulled her closer as the phone rang again. He dropped his head, resting his hand on the wall.
“Ignore it,” she commanded, kissing him again.
But he stopped. His breathing heavy. “Turn it off.”
She slipped beneath his arm and moved toward her purse. Her hands fumbled for the phone and it lit up the inside of her bag with a text from her stepfather, Frank.
911
Her heart pounded for a completely new reason than the look Jean-Paul was giving her. Frank had never texted 911 before. She pulled her shoulders back, suddenly self-conscience, as though her stepfather would be able to see her through the phone. She punched in the number.
“Ally, it’s your dad.” Her heart dropped.
“What’s going on?” Jean-Paul leaned against the wall.
“He’s had a heart attack.” Frank’s voice cracked. “You need to come home.”
MICHAEL MAILLOUX HAD been happy to help Frank and David. The summer season in Camden Cove could be a nightmare if you were short staffed, not to mention if you were missing your head chef. He’d got the call in the middle of the night. Not that he minded. His current boss, Jack, asked him if he could help out. Jack had been good to him, giving him a job at The Fish Market when he returned home from his deployment. Not too many people took a chance on a guy like him. Reputation is everything in a small town, and Michael’s had been worse than bad before he left. The Purple Heart he earned didn’t change anyone’s perspective. It certainly didn’t matter to him. He would always be that kid who was trouble, the son of Mike Mailloux Sr., who left his wife and kid and stole half the town’s money in the process.
La Patisserie would be like any other place he’d worked, except instead of cooking, he’d be baking. And Michael enjoyed the baking, a lot. Guys from his squadron would give him a hard time if they knew he could bake a cake better than Martha Stewart. A Marine who baked delicate pastries was a target for sure, but he didn’t care. Something about the process, the precision of adding ingredients, carefully folding the batter instead of whisking, the delicate layering of pastries, along with the finishing touches to make the whole treat, was calming. Not that he’d admit it to anyone.
When he arrived at the bakery, at three in the morning no less, Jack met him at the back door.
“I can’t thank you enough for this.” Jack looked as though he hadn’t slept at all.
“How’s he doing?”
“He got out of surgery a couple hours ago, so it’s touchy for the next twenty-four, but hopefully he’s going to be okay.”
Michael nodded and followed Jack inside.
He liked David, even admired him. The I don’t give a crap manner in which he lived his life had been a relief, in a community that judged Michael for an act he hadn’t committed. In a small town like Camden Cove, it didn’t matter if his father stole the money and ruined others’ lives, including his own. They saw the name, and trust was never given.
“I can help, but I’m afraid baking isn’t my specialty.” Jack walked around, turning on the lights inside the pristine kitchen.
A baker’s dream kitchen, no doubt about it. It didn’t surprise him that David kept a kitchen like this. Everything was in order, the shelves arranged meticulously. Bowls were nested by size, cooking sheets stacked together like Legos, and every gadget and ute
nsil hung from a brass rack. Was his standing mixer polished? Most chefs only dreamt of a kitchen like this.
“I’m happy to help.” Michael rubbed his hands against the cold marble countertop of the island. “Where should I start?”
Jack grabbed a white binder. Papers haphazardly protruded from inside the ringed pages. “David has most of the menu in this.” He handed it over to Michael. “But good luck finding his recipes.”
Michael opened the cover. Notes on post-its, papers dusted with flour, and scribbled recipes filled the pages. He could hardly read the writing. The notebook was such a juxtaposition to David’s kitchen, Michael didn’t believe it. “Is this it?”
“I’m afraid so.” Jack’s forehead creased. “Are you sure you can do it?”
Michael flipped through the loose pages. “I’ll be good.”
Jack’s shoulders immediately relaxed and he let out a sigh. “Thanks, man. I really owe you.”
Michael reached out his hand and shook it hard. “Not a problem.”
Jack cocked his thumb behind him. “I’ll start prepping out front and get it ready to open. Kate should be here soon to work the counter.”
Michael looked around the room. He had no idea what he was doing. “Sounds good.”
ALLY LANDED IN BOSTON on time. She managed to get a direct flight out of Paris, which had been quicker, even with the two-hour drive added in, than flying into Portland. Her mother met her at the baggage claim and embraced her.
“How is he?” Ally held onto her her.
“They say he’s going to be okay.” Elise squeezed Ally. “He’s lucky to be alive.”
Ally only let go to grab her mother’s arm. She looked around, watching the other passengers head toward the baggage carousel. She rubbed her eyes with her free hand, the exhaustion of being up for twenty-four hours suddenly hitting her.
“You should try sleeping on the way back,” Elise said, pushing the wisps of hair from Ally’s eyes like she had when she was little.
Ally suddenly felt like a kid again, with her mother giving her a direct order to take a nap at any sign of sleepiness.
“I’m fine.” Sleep had been the cure-all for everything in Ally’s life. Under the weather? Did she get enough sleep? Nervous about an exam? She should go to bed early. Early signs of crow’s feet? Try taking a nap.
“You look drained.”
“Mom, my dad just had a heart attack.”
“He’s going to be okay.” She patted Ally’s arm. “David should have taken time to rest, long ago.”
“How’s Frank?” Ally wondered how her stepfather was handling the whole situation. He tended to fall on the opposite of the spectrum from Elise. He was probably freaking out.
“Well, you know Frank.”
Ally nodded. He was freaking out.
“Mostly, the problem is the bakery.” They walked up to the silver baggage carousel. “David’s going to be in recovery for a few months, at least.”
“What?” Ally turned to face her mother. “A few months?”
Suddenly, things became more serious. Yes, he’d had a heart attack, but the doctors had said there was a good outlook. A few months?
“He just had open-heart surgery.” Elise gave her daughter a look. “He’s going to have to take time to recover.”
Ally hadn’t really thought about recovery time. She figured she’d help out for a few weeks while he got better, but not a few months.
“Don’t worry, your cousin Jack set up someone from his restaurant for now, but I’m sure they’re going to have to hire someone.”
Elise didn’t say it, though it floated around them in the air like the aroma of skunk. Ally would be the perfect option.
But Ally had Paris, her own gig at La Patisserie Michalak. Then there was Jean-Paul. His French poetry echoed in her head. What would happen with Jean-Paul if she were to stay so long in Camden Cove? He certainly wasn’t going to wait around. But she knew her father wouldn’t want just anyone to come into his kitchen. “I can’t.”
“Of course not.” Elise shook her head. “No one thinks you should.”
That was exactly what everyone was thinking. She was a pastry chef, just like her father, after all. She grew up at the bakery watching him make those pastries, went to the same culinary school in Montreal, even went to Paris like him to become an understudy. Jean-Paul’s understudy, as it turned out.
Jean-Paul wasn’t someone she wanted to make wait for her. And he was someone she couldn’t wait to get back to. She didn’t want to spend any longer in this antiquated town than she had to. No, staying for a few months wasn’t an option.
Elise pulled off the highway and took the exit to Camden Cove. Time seemed to slow down as they drove through town. So many of the structures and buildings looked exactly the same, but somehow different. The season felt off to her, as though by coming in the peak of summer, she was a tourist in the traffic jam at the one stoplight in town.
She remembered a sign on the wall in the local tavern. “Summer people, and some are not.” She always felt she was not. She was a local, just like her family, part of the town, but as the buildings passed by her, she felt a tinge of sadness that she was no longer one of them.
“We’re going to stop by David’s and pick up a few things for him, then head to the hospital.” Elise pulled up to Ally’s father’s house, the one thing that hadn’t changed in Camden Cove. The eighteenth-century colonial looked like it was the set of a film for a regency romance. Her father and his husband had renovated the Georgian house when they moved in together after her parents’ divorce. They spent all winter tearing room after room apart. Ally was covered in drywall dust for months... and resentment. When Ally stayed there, she always felt like a visitor at a museum. Expensive art, French décor, statues and crystal everything. Porcelain vases, polished silver frames, decorative plates, you name it. Not the kind of place where you could scarf down a bag of potato chips on the couch in front of the television.
Not that she hated going. The food at her dads’ was much better than at her mom’s place. Which was why everyone assumed David had been her inspiration, but it had been Elise’s willingness to let Ally run the kitchen that really got her baking. Her Dad didn’t want to give up control. She’d ask him to show her a recipe and he’d say that he’d teach her, but from beginning to end, he’d do it all as she stood and watched. Then she’d go home and do it herself.
Her mom always said it was because she and David were so much alike that they didn’t always see eye to eye. Maybe they were? She loved her dad, she did. But the moment David and Elise announced they were getting a divorce her whole life shattered.
Elise and she moved back to the states right away with David and Frank following behind a few months after. Dealing with a new school, a new culture, then being bounced from Elise’s to David was hard enough, but when David brought Frank to the old traditional town, it had been more than hard on Ally. Ally learned every horrific vocabulary word that one could use to refer to her father, or Frank, or her, or their relationship. The kids in school had been cruel.
One day, after a boy had said something horrible, she went home and picked up the flour, and the measuring cups. Grabbed a few eggs, some sugar, brown as well, then she took a chocolate bar and chopped it into pieces.
She baked ever since.
Ally hung out in the kitchen as Elise ran upstairs to grab his things. She walked around her dads’ house, checking out the changes that had happened over the past year. New things. Frank was always adding antique knick-knacks. It also smelled different. Unfamiliar. Did her room still look the same?
Feeling like an intruder, she snuck up the back staircase and down the hall, tiptoeing as though she were sneaking into a stranger’s house. She opened her bedroom door. It creaked at the exact same spot it always did, which made her glad. But then she looked inside. The room was the same, with the same furniture, same arrangement, same posters hanging on her walls, except the room was filled with stuff. V
ases, cooking sheets, wrapping paper, puzzle boxes and children’s toys, books—lots and lots—and four portable hanging closets in the middle of the floor. When was the last time she had come up here? Had she not stayed with her Dad and Frank during her cousin, Elizabeth’s wedding?
“Ally!” Elise called from downstairs. “Where are you?”
Ally grabbed the charm bracelets from her jewelry box and called back, “I’m coming!”
They jumped back in the car and headed off to the hospital and Frank met them outside.
He embraced Ally in a bear hug, holding on longer than usual. “I’m so glad you could get back so soon. He’s going to be happy to see you.”
She could hear Frank tearing up.
“No problem.” She didn’t want to display emotion in the front parking lot, so she plastered a smile on her face.
“Let’s go upstairs,” Elise suggested. “I’m sure David’s dying to see you.”
Frank gave her a look.
“Oh!” Elise’s eyes widened.
From outside the room, Ally could hear the beeping of machines. It wasn’t until she saw David that she really understood the severity of the situation. That’s when her emotions swept over her, but she quickly reined them in when David’s emotions poured out. She hadn’t really ever seen her dad cry. Once, when the Red Sox won the World Series, or when a dog was killed in a movie, but rarely did David Williams shed a tear. So, when she saw a tear slide down his face, she knew she had to keep it together for the both of them.
“If you wanted me to come home, you could’ve just asked,” she joked, which broke the ice. Williamses didn’t show emotions that made anyone uncomfortable. They were seafarers. She leaned over and gave him a hug, causing Frank to jump in the middle and pull her away.
“He shouldn’t be moving.”
“Hey, Ally Bear.” He hadn’t used her nickname in years. “Next time I’ll call.”
