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“No, I’m definitely all good with everything,” she said. Izzy had asked Ian if he could work more quietly, and now Cam wished she could somehow ask him to be slightly less irresistible. It was just as impossible, she knew. But a thought suddenly came to her.

“Oh, hey, since I’m out here, do you mind loaning me your cooler?” Cam asked. “Paige and I are driving to Virginia Beach to shop, and I’ve got a ton of stuff to keep cold. More than can fit in Birdie’s.”

“Sure thing,” he said. “I took the boat in today since you were going to pick up Paige on the way to your shopping. I’ll pop down to the dock now and get it for you.”

“Thanks,” she said, and went back into the kitchen to grab her bag and lists, grateful to be clear of Ian’s intense gaze.

When she came back outside, Ian was waiting for her by the trunk of Birdie’s Volvo. As he handed her the bulky cooler, Cam felt herself tripping a little bit toward him, and her hands met his as she steadied herself, trying with all her might to ignore the electric sensation of his skin under her fingers.

Was that Ada? Literally pushing her at Ian? Cam righted herself and pulled the cooler away. Subtle, she thought.

“Thanks,” she said brusquely, and turned away from him. “I’ll drop Paige back off at home at the end of the day.”

Ian merely nodded.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur of shopping and preparation. Lusciously marbled beef, check; blocks of briny goat cheese and boxes of plump figs, check. She showed Paige how to give the fruit a gentle squeeze to test for ripeness.

Back in the cafe kitchen, Cam introduced Paige to the wonder and majesty of a to-do list. Cam made various task lists written in black magic marker and taped them up on the wall, and she and Paige began toiling and crossing off items from them, one by one. Cam learned that Paige preferred to listen to headphones while she worked. She had offered to let Paige just play her music on a portable speaker for both of them, but she said she liked it in her ears, and Cam didn’t push her. She had felt the teen’s sulkiness falling away just a little throughout the day, but she didn’t want to push it.

Late that afternoon, they were rolling out dough for the tartlets when the door to the kitchen swung open, bringing a gust of cold air with it. It was Izzy, wearing the same hat and comically large sunglasses she had on when she had turned up in Silver Cove. Cam surveyed the dough stretched out on the counter and the piles of flour around it. Dealing with pâte brisée was delicate business. You couldn’t just leave it out for long. Whatever her famous client needed, she better make it quick or this batch would go sticky and turn leaden.

“Ooh, that looks funnnn,” Izzy enthused.

Cam noticed Paige eyeing Izzy with more interest than she had showed in almost anything in the time she’d known her, although she had sworn not to mention a peep about the celebrity’s stay in Silver Cove.

“Paige, this is Izzy; Izzy, Paige. This is Ian’s daughter. She’s helping me cater the fete,” Cam said.

“Hi!” Izzy greeted her.

“Hey,” Paige replied shyly.

“So how did the cookbook research go?” Cam said. “Did you find a bunch of inspiration?”

“I didn’t have time to go through those books,” Izzy answered. “I had a super-busy morning. First, I tried contacting the ghost with my crystals and incantations, but she seems very stubborn, this ghost of yours. She just refused to appear. Can you believe it?

“And then one of my very best amethysts—it was like, really rare, and my healer said it had the power to unlock all kinds of energy—rolled right across the floor and into a vent. Birdie said it was probably just the slope of the floorboards, but I think it was the ghost being mean to me.”

Of course Izzy would expect that even spirits would do her bidding, Cam thought, eyeing the dough again. A few minutes more and it would be a lost cause.

“That’s really interesting, Izzy, but Paige and I really have to get back to work,” she said.

“Well, I actually came to tell you some amazing news,” Izzy said, pausing for dramatic effect. “Do you wanna hear it?”

No, Cam thought, she didn’t want to hear whatever it was that Izzy had to share. She had work to do.

“Of course,” she answered instead, forcing herself to look at least semi-interested. Keeping Izzy happy was the key to holding this whole precarious thing—the cookbook, the paycheck, fixing Birdie’s house—together.

“People magazine wants to do an interview with me about my cookbook,” she said. “And they want to run a few preview recipes. My publicist says this is absolutely the key to getting past my little scandal.”

Cam’s first reaction was a twinge of annoyance at Izzy referring to it as “her” cookbook, given that her contribution so far had been mostly vague ramblings and entirely unhelpful feedback.

“Okay, no problem,” Cam said, her long-honed instinct to make the client happy taking over. “I’ve got a whole bunch ready that I really think you’ll like. I leaned into the vegetable angle. I can have them polished up for you in the next few days, and we can get them copyedited—”

“That’s not exactly all,” Izzy said cagily. “Listen, can I talk to you in private?” She nodded toward Paige, who had been busying herself in the kitchen but taking surreptitious peeks at the celebrity in their midst.

“Paige,” Cam said, turning to her assistant, “would you mind running to Birdie’s for me? I need that canister of whole vanilla beans I left on her counter. And tell her I sent you for a tea break, too. Oh, and one more thing. Can you please not mention anything about a ghost to your dad?”

“Sure thing,” Paige said with a shrug.