Claire nibbled the flaky edge of her croissant. Memories of the three of them as teenagers bubbled up. Of course, the town had changed over the decades but not as much as one would think. Most of the quaint old buildings were still there, and though new houses and restaurants had been built somehow over the years, the town had retained its old-fashioned small-town vibe despite it becoming an increasingly popular tourist destination.
Claire, Jane, and Maxi had grown up there. They’d had a lot of fun as teens, especially in the summer, when the town’s population would swell with tourists.
“Did we ever flirt like that?” Claire asked.
Jane laughed. “They seem a lot more accomplished at it. Do you remember how awkward it was when we were that age?”
Claire couldn’t help but smile. “It wasn’t all bumbling. I remember getting some results.”
Jane smirked. “I seem to remember you getting some results with one of the tourist boys near the cedar tree on the Marginal Way, Claire.”
Claire wrinkled her nose and waved her hand dismissively, avoiding her friend’s eye. “That was so long ago. Who could remember one particular boy?”
But Clairedidremember, in a hazy, dreamlike way. The edges of the memory were misty, from a time when she’d brimmed with energy and innocence. It felt impossibly long ago, but she still recalled the hot summer night, the full moon rising over the ocean, and the boy who had given her one of her first kisses on the mile-long path that weaved along the ocean cliffs and led from Perkins Cove to the beach.
It wasn’t like she thought of it often, but sometimes, the memory came up. Odd. With all the boys that had come after, including her ex-husband, she still thought about that one kiss. She didn’t even know who he was. She hadn’t seen him or his friends after that night.
“What was his name?” Jane muttered to herself. “Teddy? Gerry?”
“Bobby,” Claire answered absently, still halfway trapped in that thirty-five-year-old memory.
“So youdoremember him.” Maxi glanced over slyly from her drawing.
Claire blushed like she was fifteen again instead of turning fifty come the fall. “I don’t. Not really. I mean, it was thirty-five years ago. I doubt I’d recognize him if we met on the street.”
Brushing her hair out of her narrowed eyes, Maxi looked at Claire like she didn’t believe the stammered excuse.
Claire needed a change of topic. She pointed to the napkin Maxi had been working on. “That’s a great sketch.”
Maxi glanced down and shrugged. “Just a doodle.”
But it wasn’tjust a doodle. It showed one of the girls looking up, enraptured, at a boy whose figure was ominously in shadow. The sketch was exquisite and intricately detailed from what Claire could see before Maxi quickly shoved it into her bag.
“I have to get back.” Jane looked apologetic.
Claire jumped up, her chair screeching along the bricks as she stood. She turned to face Jane, who started gathering up the trash on the table.
“Wait here a minute. I’ll get you some muffins for Addie.”
Claire disappeared into the shop. She found the bag she’d set in a corner earlier—not near the back where she suspected the roof leaked—and hurried back out. She passed the bag to Jane as she hugged her. “I know how Addie loves these.”
Jane smiled and clutched her tight. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
Claire beamed. “What are friends for?”
She hugged Maxi as well. As she pulled away, her gaze settled on the store across the street again. The teens had moved on, and now she had an unobstructed view. Her smile faded.
Her friends must have noticed because they both turned their gaze in that direction.
“Oh! I forgot to mention, I know who’s moving in over there.” Jane’s tone held a hint of excitement at knowing a secret.
“Really? Who?” Claire tried to keep the anxiety out of her voice.
“Bradford Breads.”
Claire’s stomach swooped. She snapped her gaze from the store across the street to Jane. “A bakery?”
“It’s not really a bakery,” Jane said. “Not like yours. They only sell bread.”
