The Cove hadn’t had a keeper in decades, but there was something oddly comforting about watching its beam of light dart across the water.
A familiar clack of heels echoed behind me. I didn’t need to turn.
“Ruth told me that you stormed out of the diner,” Margot began. “A bit melodramatic, don’t you think?” She sat beside me without invitation.
I groaned. “Not now.”
“Definitely now.” She crossed one leg over the other, eyes sweeping the ocean. “So. What’s her deal?”
“Who?”
“Don’t play dumb. I mean the woman in there with teeth so white I’m in fear for my retinas.”
Despite myself, I let out a laugh. “Claire.”
“Right. Claire.” Margot rolled the name around her tongue and wrinkled her nose. “She’s pretty.Annoyinglypretty. Andrich. Did you see her shoes? Yeah, those are easily three grand.” She snorted. “And you think I’m bad.”
I sank further into the bench, the warmth of Easton on my feet keeping me steady. “She’s also well-traveled, beloved by both Janiceandyour mom, and apparently knowsjusthow to save the festival.”
She might as well have introduced herself asGeorgie 2.0.
Margot tossed me a sideways look. “And she has Rhett.”
The reminder cut, even though I’d been dancing around that inconvenient truth all night. My throat went dry.
“It certainly looks that way.”
Margot shrugged, though her voice softened around the edges. “That’s all though, right? Rumors and appearances.”
I flicked at the wood beneath my fingers, fighting back the ache in my chest. “It’s just… first Marigold’s, now the festival… it feels like I keep messing everything up.”
Margot’s brows knit together. “What about Marigold’s?”
My heart hammered as I stared at a far-off mound of sand. I had been so sure that no one should know. Somehow, some way, I would valiantly pull myself from the depths of debt and save my grandmother’s shop. How could I make Margot and everyone else believe this town was worth staying for, if my own life was splintering at the seams?
Still, something had been gnawing at the back of my mind these past few days. Why should I expect Margot to be honest when I couldn’t be myself?
So I told her everything—from the negative bank accounts, to the empty fridge, to the small business grant. At first, it came out as a trickle. Margot stared intently, completely silent as my nerves subsided and it all came gushing out like a burst pipe. I had expected to be embarrassed; what I hadn’t anticipated was the rush of pure catharsis that washed over me the more I spoke.
In the end, I was simply left to wonder why I hadn’t done it sooner.
“Well,” she said with a heavy sigh once I’d finished. “That’s a lot to carry around for something you don’t even love.”
It was just like Margot, in her clear-eyed, incisive way, to cut straight to the heart of an issue.
“How’d you know?” I returned, stomach twisting and then unsnarling.
“If you’re passionate about something, you don’t talk about it as if it’s a weight shackled to your ankles.” She hesitated and pressed her lips together, as if fighting her own outpouring of truth telling, but shook her head. “So, whyareyou doing it?” Margot added.
“Because,” I began, “I owe my grandmother everything.”
The words came out in a surge, steady at first, and then strangled. I desperately clawed at my chest. Biting thorns that I thought had disappeared suddenly wrapped around my heart and squeezed until I took notice.
“But you don’t owe her yourfuture.” Margot took my hand for a second and squeezed before letting go. For her, it was as good as a hug. “She wouldn’t have wanted that.”
I quickly swiped at the tears trailblazing down my cheeks. Beneath it all, I knew that my grandmother would have never asked me to do this. That wasn’t the point, though. She sacrificed two decades of her life to love and support me when my mother disappeared. Marigold Wheeler wasmylighthouse—the one who stood beside me when everyone else left.
“You just don’t understand,” I whispered, voice wavering as I struggled to keep more tears at bay.
