Walking through the festival gates, looking slightly lost but determined, was her mother.
Diana Wren wore a floral skirt and a coral blouse Cassidy had never seen before.Her hair was shorter than the last time she’d seen her, cut in soft layers that framed her face.She carried a large purse and wore sensible sandals, and she was scanning the crowd with the same methodical efficiency Cassidy recognized from her own strategic assessments.
Then their eyes met.
Her mom’s whole face transformed.The anxiety smoothed away, replaced by a smile so warm and genuine that Cassidy felt something crack open inside her.
“Mom?”The word came out strangled.
Her mom hurried forward, weaving between families and vendor booths with surprising agility.When she reached Cassidy, she pulled her into a fierce hug that smelled like the clean scent of the soap she’d used for as long as Cassidy could remember.
“Hi, sweetheart,” her mom said against her hair.“Surprise.”
She pulled back, still gripping her mother’s arms like she might disappear.“What are you doing here?How did you even know about the festival?”
“Well…” Her mom glanced past Cassidy, and her expression shifted into something knowing.“I had some help.”
She followed her gaze and found Bryan standing near The Sandpiper’s booth, hands shoved in his pockets and looking simultaneously guilty and defiant.When he saw her staring, he offered a small wave.
Her brain struggled to process.“Bryan called you?”
“A week ago.He said you’d been working so hard on this festival, and he thought maybe you’d like some family here to see it.He was very sweet and very worried about overstepping.”
A week ago.Before their fight.Before everything fell apart and gotkind ofrebuilt in the space of a single storm.
She looked at Bryan again.He’d turned away now, helping his mother arrange plates at their booth, but his shoulders were tense.He’d called her mom and invited her here because he thought Cassidy would want her.
Because he’d been paying attention.
“I should let you two catch up,” David said abruptly.His voice had gone cool and professional.“Cassidy, we’ll talk later.Before you make any decisions you’ll regret.”
He walked away without waiting for a response, already pulling out his phone.
Her mom watched him go and shook her head.“Charming.”
“That’s my boss.He wants me back in Chicago by Monday.”
“And what do you want?”
The question was so simple.So direct.It shouldn’t have felt like being punched in the stomach.
“I don’t know.I thought I did.The promotion I’ve been chasing for years is finally on the table.But every time I try to picture myself taking it, I just feel tired.”
Her mom studied her face for a long moment.Then she linked her arm through Cassidy’s.“Then put it aside for now.Show me this festival you’ve been working on.I want to see everything.”
They walked slowly through the grounds while Cassidy pointed out the different vendors they’d found and the recipe competition judging that would happen in an hour.She pointed to the boat parade route marked with cheerful buoys.She showed her mom the historical display Marty had curated featuring old photographs of previous festivals.
Her mom took it all in with genuine interest, stopping to admire a hand-painted sign here and a vintage fishing net display there.She chatted easily with Sally at the general store booth.She complimented the Harbor Ladies on their baked goods and asked Cliff intelligent questions about lighthouse operations when they passed the small museum display.
She fit in seamlessly, like she’d been coming to this festival for years instead of arriving twenty minutes ago.
“This reminds me of the Mayfair Festival back home,” her mom said eventually.They’d found a quiet spot near the water, away from the main crowd.“Do you remember?We used to go every year when you were little.”
She felt something shift in her memory.“The one in Indiana.With the craft fair and the pie competition.”
“You loved it.You’d make me take you to every single booth, even when your feet hurt.You said you wanted to meet everyone and see everything.”Her mom smiled at the memory.“You were so open then.So curious about people.”
“I don’t remember that part.”
