Chapter13
Bryan pushed through the door of Harbor Brew, scanning the crowded coffee shop for Cassidy.He spotted her immediately at the corner table, surrounded by the Harbor Ladies Club like some kind of corporate diplomat who’d wandered into enemy territory and somehow survived.
He should probably rescue her.Those four women could reduce grown men to stammering apologies with nothing more than a pointed look and a well-timed sigh.
Except she wasn’t stammering.She was laughing.
“Dorothy, I absolutely agree,” Cassidy said as she leaned forward with her hands wrapped around a coffee mug.“The traditional fish fry has to be the centerpiece.But what if we also added a recipe contest?Local families could submit their best seafood dishes, and we’d feature the winners at the festival.It honors the cooking traditions while getting more people involved.”
Dorothy, the most formidable of the Harbor Ladies, tilted her head with approval.“You’re saying people would compete to be part of the menu?”
“Exactly.We could call it the Starlight Shores Heritage Recipe Competition.First place gets their dish featured with their family name on the festival program.It’s not about changing tradition.It’s about celebrating it.”
“Hmm.”Dorothy exchanged glances with the other three women.“That might work.”
He blinked.Dorothy had just said something might work.To an outsider.To Cassidy Wren, who less than two weeks ago had been public enemy number one for suggesting they needed to change anything at all.
“I’ll draft the competition rules this afternoon,” Cassidy continued.She pulled out her phone and started typing notes.“We should probably cap entries at twenty to keep judging manageable.And we’ll need a panel of judges.Would the four of you be willing to serve?”
Jan appeared at his elbow with a knowing smile.“She’s been at it for an hour.Got Mildred to volunteer for the historical photo display and convinced Ruth to organize the kids’ sandcastle competition.”
“The Harbor Ladies are actually listening to her.”
“More than listening.They like her.”Jan refilled a nearby customer’s coffee, then added, “Town’s buzzing about how she saved the dock supplies during the storm.People respect someone who’ll ruin a pair of expensive shoes to protect what matters.”
He watched Cassidy gesture animatedly as she explained her vision for the recipe competition.Her hair was pulled back with a loose clip instead of her usual sleek style, and she wore shorts and a simple cotton shirt rather than the designer blazers she’d arrived in.She looked comfortable.She looked happy.
She looked nothing like the rigid, over-caffeinated executive who’d marched into that first committee meeting with a color-coded presentation and an attitude sharp enough to cut glass.
“I should probably interrupt before they rope her into running the entire town,” he said.
Jan laughed.“Too late.Sally already asked if she’d help with the Christmas parade.”
But then, she wouldn’t be here at Christmas, would she?He pushed the thought away and made his way through the crowded coffee shop, catching fragments of conversation about fishing regulations and tourist season and whether the Johnsons would finally fix their dock before someone got hurt.The familiar rhythm of small-town life that had always grounded him.
“Bryan!”Cassidy spotted him and waved.“Perfect timing.We were just talking about the food vendors.”
The Harbor Ladies turned their collective attention his way.Dorothy fixed him with a look that probably meant he was about to be volunteered for something.
“Your mother’s clam chowder recipe,” Dorothy said.It wasn’t a question.“It needs to be part of the Heritage Recipe Competition.”
“Mom would love that,” Bryan said.“But she’d probably want to enter it properly, not get special treatment.”
“Smart woman.”Dorothy nodded with approval, then gathered her things.“We’ll leave you two to discuss the menu planning.Cassidy, dear, send me those competition rules by Friday.”
The four women departed in a wave of floral perfume and satisfied murmurs.Cassidy stared after them with an expression somewhere between triumph and disbelief.
“Did Dorothy just call me ‘dear’?”
“You’ve been officially adopted.”He slid into the chair across from her, grinning.“Congratulations.There’s no escape now.”
“I’m not sure I want to escape.”She glanced down at her phone, where her notes app was filled with lists and ideas.“They know so much about this town.The stories they told about past festivals and about why certain traditions matter.It’s incredible.”
Something shifted inside him as he watched her scroll through her notes with genuine enthusiasm.This wasn’t the polished professional executing a marketing strategy.This was someone who actually cared.
“I wanted to ask you something,” he said.“We’re doing a taste test tonight at the Sandpiper.Menu planning for the festival food.I thought you might want to be there.You know, since you’re co-chair and all.”
She looked up.“A taste test?”
