And Dot stood there, smug and rude and openly crowing about the possibility of another one.
“Why are you smiling?” I snapped, surprising myself and both the Button Jar ladies. “You were there the last time there was a flood. You know how bad it was.”
I didn’t bother to hide my scowl from her.
Dot took a step backward and touched her heart as if I’d terrorized her. “We have insurance, Georgette. If the others don’t, that’s not my fault.” She turned to Florence and murmured, “C’mon. We can come back for a pot roast later.”
Florence didn’t meet my eyes as they hurried out the Market doors.
I clutched the display to keep from collapsing, guilt wrapping around my stomach like a vise. I’d never done that before—no matter how many times Dot deserved to be put in her place, I would smile and nod or pretend I didn’t hear. Certain things I couldn’t abide, though, and gloating over destroyed businesses and homes was one of them.
Then the guilt burned off like a marine layer under sunlight, leaving something stronger in its place—the same resilience my grandmother carried, the kind I’d never understood until now.
And just like that, it clicked into place. I would never be one of those glorious, force-of-nature women. My kind of fortitude was quiet and soft—not the crashing kind that moved mountains, but the kind that held them steady.
That didn’t mean one was better than the other. I just had to learn to use what I had instead of sanding down my edges and covering them with smiles.
Rhett’s voice echoed somewhere in the back of my head, smug and annoying and entirely right.
I hated that I almost grinned.
???
I was headed toward the Morning Bell, thoughts of a grocery list abandoned, when a familiar face crossed my path.
“Hey, Joe,” I greeted, coming to a stop as he swept the stoop of Gulliver’s Books.
He looked up, eyes flickering with something akin to guilt as he gently leaned his broom against the glass. “Good to see you, Georgette.”
“I haven’t seen you around lately,” I said, pulling the sleeves of my sweater down.
Joe rubbed his chin, new flecks of silver peeking out in his beard. “Things have been a bit uncomfortable. What with the gala, and all.”
“I tried to make it clear that I support everyone’s decision.” Clearing the lump in my throat, I added with a dry laugh, “Even if I don’t particularly like it.”
“I don’t believe that everyone shares your sentiments,” he replied.
I watched as he slipped the glasses from his nose and cleaned the lenses with his leather-elbowed cardigan. Without them, I could see the dark shadows and the way his eyes drooped at the edges.
Resting a hand on the forest green of Gulliver’s Books, I said, “No matter what, you’re gonna be okay. And with the gala, your shop will be saved.”
“I know,” he whispered, putting his glasses back on and looking out onto Main Street. “But what good is that if I’ve lost the people here?”
My heart squeezed. I wanted to reach out and hug him, but I knew he wasn’t much for that.
“You always have me, Joe.” Leaning in, I dropped my voice conspiratorially and added, “Besides, Bluebell Cove has ashortmemory. Remember that time Mrs. Henderson tried to organize a gluten-free protest outside Captain’s?”
His eyebrows drew together.
“Exactly,” I said, patting him once on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Just give it some breathing room.”
Joe sniffed and shook his head. “Since when did the little girl who came to me for advice start doling out wisdom?”
A wide smile stretched across my face, and I shrugged. “I dunno, Joe. Seasons are changing!”
He sent me a wave as I crossed the street. I knew it wasn’t much, but I hoped it helped. By all accounts, attending the gala was the right thing for Gulliver’s Books. I wasn’t worried about the businesses who decided against the festival. If anything, I was worried about everyone that had put their trust inme.
I just hoped that they weren’t going to end up regretting it.
