Page 70 of Piece By Piece

She’d been there all day watching everything—the scavenger hunt, the heckling of the pie contestants—and greeting every person who walked past her like they were a long-lost relative.

The bookstore had been closed for regular business during the festival, which was the first time in anyone’s memory that Dixie had closed on a Saturday.

“It’ll hold. The books will survive without me,” she had said that morning. “This is more important. Community. The scholarship.”

She’d caught Liza’s eye across the crowd and nodded one time.

And then she turned to Julie, who stood beside Dawson at the edge of the group, Dylan between them, and said something that made Julie laugh.

“This is what the island is for,” Dixie said, loud enough for the people around her to hear. “Bringing people together when they need each other and when they don’t.”

Julie leaned into Dawson, and he put his arm around her.

Somewhere out in the crowd, there was a child who laughed, that full kind of belly laugh that only children can manage, and the sound carried across the square like a bell.

The festival finished up around five o’clock as families drifted toward the beach.

Volunteers started breaking down tables, and the square took on that end-of-day light that turned everything soft and gold.

Liza was folding tablecloths when Grant appeared beside her.

He didn’t say a word. He just took the other end of the cloth and helped her fold.

“Walk with me?” he asked.

She put the cloth on the table and followed him.

They walked all the way to the marsh at the edge of town.

The water crept through the grass in silver threads as the sun was low, and the whole world was golden.

The air smelled like salt and warm earth.

Grant stopped at the wooden railing that overlooked the water.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

“I made something for you.”

He handed it to her.

It was a crossword, hand-drawn on graph paper, with the clues written in with his precise handwriting.

It was small, maybe ten by ten, with four long theme answers running across the center.

She unfolded it and leaned against the railing.

He watched her, his hands in his pockets, with the tension of a man who had just handed someone the most important thing he’d ever made.

She started solving.

The first words came quickly.

Ocean, books, light, island.

She smiled at each one, recognizing Seagrove in all the answers.

The clues were elegant and personal.