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“The woman in your kitchen is none other than Izzy Jones, the famous actress, who happens to be my client,” Cam said. “I haven’t been able to tell you because we signed papers that kept me from divulging it to anyone, but Izzy said I could because… Well, she wants to stay here for a few days to dodge the paparazzi, and I told her that I’d ask you if that was okay.”

“Izzy Jones is your famous client you’ve had to keep under wraps?” Birdie asked. “Even I’ve heard that name. So she’s the one who’s been giving you fits?”

“Yup. And I hate to even ask you to give her a place to stay because, honestly, she might turn out to be a nightmare houseguest,” she said. “The thread count of your sheets will probably appall her, and she’ll expect us to wait on her hand and foot. But the truth is that I need to keep her happy, and at the moment, I’m a little desperate.”

Birdie sat next to Cam, and the bed’s old springs sagged, almost out of habit. “You’re not desperate—you’re resourceful,” she said. “But are you sure she wouldn’t be more comfortable at the inn? It’s under new management, and I hear it’s quite nice. And why Silver Cove to start with? I’m sure she has far more glamorous places she could stay.”

“I really don’t know why she picked here of all places, but she did,” Cam said. “She’s trying to stay out of the public eye after a scandal where she was caught on film being awful to the staff of a hotel, so she doesn’t want to stay anywhere she might be recognized. And I don’t think she has any real friends to stay with.”

“Poor dear,” Birdie said. “Well, I’d love to have her, even if she is a little high-maintenance.”

“You would?” Cam sat up so she was eye-to-eye with her grandmother.

“I’ve been so happy since you and Avery have been here,” Birdie said, her eyes shining with tears. “I love it when this house is full of girls—just like it was when Flora and your aunt were growing up, and then summers with you and Avery. I love hearing laughter and footsteps all around me. Young people coming and going. I like making coffee for more than one in the morning.”

“Are you lonely here, Birdie?” Cam asked, momentarily pushing aside her thoughts of their would-be houseguest waiting in the kitchen.

“Not exactly, dear—I don’t want you to worry about me,” she said. “And I’m sorry if I brought you all the way out here to Silver Cove because you felt like you needed to take care of me. I’m fine, but it does feel nice to have someone—to have you—helping out. I’ve managed all these years without Eddie, but lately, it has felt like a lot to do alone.”

Birdie stood, as if proving to Cam how steady she was. “Another girl in the house just means more life under this roof.”

The next morning, Cam was struggling to keep both Izzy and Ian out of her thoughts, and like always, she found that hard work was the best way to drive unnecessary things from her mind. Some people might go for a really hard run, or others might lose themselves in an intense vacuuming session. Hell, some people might have poured themselves a stiff Bloody Mary. Whatever it took, she figured. But for Cam, at least that morning, salvation meant shredding cheese.

She stared down the ten pounds of cheddar on the cafe kitchen’s counter like it was her opponent in a Western duel. Only one of us is getting out of here alive, she silently dared the cheese, and then got started grating. Some professional kitchens might use a food processor, which would make quick work of the task. But Martina’s equipment was old-school, and Cam actually welcomed the work of running the orange blocks against the box grater over and over again. She kept at it until her biceps burned and a mountain of cheese formed on the counter. She planned to mix the cheese into dough with butter and flour and a tiny bit of cayenne, cut it into thin straws, and freeze it to bake before the fete. Samantha, Martina’s cook, was due any minute.

Cam had managed to get Izzy set up in Birdie’s guest bedroom with a minimum of fuss, save for the fact that her client had brought exactly four full-sized Goyard suitcases with her. It looked like she was planning to stay for a month. God forbid.

Of course Birdie had treated the arrival of the surprise guest to her home as if it were the most normal thing in the world, just as she had with Ada, and promptly offered Izzy a stack of fresh linens. Avery had been slightly less cucumber-cool, in part because she had actually seen some of Izzy’s movies and was aware of her A-list status. Cam had been able to stock enough of Izzy’s “essentials”—thank goodness the Pack ’N’ Save had Pellegrino and even oat milk—to keep their new guest happy.

She had made Izzy promise to stick to her room if anyone dropped by unexpectedly, and asked Birdie to hold off hosting any more committee meetings or mah-jongg sessions for a few days. Cam had deputized Avery to explain the situation to Ian this morning because facing him was the last thing she wanted to do. Hopefully Izzy would spend today at least blissed out, listening to her meditation apps as she had said she would.

Which left Cam with her cheddar. Cam was lost in her work when she heard a tapping on the cafe’s front door. She put down the cheese and cocked her head toward the entrance. Maybe a customer with reading-comprehension problems? The CLOSED sign still hung, warning people away. Samantha would have used the employees’ door around back, and so would Birdie or Avery, who had visited the space several times and knew the drill. The tapping continued. Cam sighed and wiped her hands on the dishcloth she kept tucked into the apron string around her waist.

As she approached the door, planning to offer a breezy, “sorry, we’re closed” to whoever it was, she paused. The figure outside was Paige.

Surprised, Cam opened the door and motioned for the girl to come inside from the cold.

“Hi, Paige,” she said. Paige didn’t remove the hood of her sweatshirt, and Cam sensed that she was used to using it like a shield. The girl looked pale, and her eyes were ringed with red. Cam figured that, even after her ordeal was over and she was safe at home, the weekend had probably still been a difficult one.

“Hi, Cam,” she replied, casting her eyes down to her Doc Martens, clearly looking uncomfortable. “I, ah, I wanted to tell you I’m sorry for the other night. My dad said you were really scared, too. He was really mad about it.”

Cam took this in. She felt certain that coming over to the cafe to apologize to her hadn’t been Paige’s idea, but rather her father’s. That was admirable of Ian, but Paige probably felt like she was being punished. Cam felt bad for the poor girl, but she was out of her depth with teenagers. She channeled Birdie, who had always known what to do with her and Avery, and she knew in an instant—her grandmother would offer something to eat.

“Do you want tea?” she asked. “I was just about to take a break. Have you ever had Earl Grey?”

“No,” Paige answered. “What’s that?”

“I’ll show you,” Cam said, and she led Paige back to the kitchen, where she flipped on the electric kettle and put two teabags into the thick mugs the cafe used to serve hot drinks.

“It’s got a flavor that you can’t really pinpoint,” Cam said. “It’s sour and sweet all at the same time.” She gave Paige a smile and pulled up a stool for her to sit on.

“I’ve never been back here before,” Paige said, taking in the kitchen. “Dad takes us to the cafe on Saturdays. He’s always doing things like that. ‘Making traditions,’ he calls it. I like the waffles, I guess.”

“I used to come here when I was growing up, too,” Cam said. “My favorite was the pancakes. They used to serve them with peaches and whipped cream.” She poured the steaming water into the mugs and handed one to Paige along with a couple of oatmeal cookies she had been testing for Izzy. Paige sniffed the cup suspiciously.

“So you’re a chef,” Paige said. “That’s kinda cool.” Her tone did not suggest that she was overly impressed, but Cam guessed that her slightly aloof tone was a defense mechanism.

“I’m not usually a chef, exactly,” Cam said. “But I was a while back, and I did get roped into catering the town’s holiday fete on Friday. I’ve got a hundred people to feed.”