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Maybe it was time to embrace the whole picture, Cam thought as she slipped the pan into Birdie’s oven and a tangy, sugar-and-vinegar aroma filled the air—the sweet along with the bitter.

Over dinner, Cam confided in Birdie. She hadn’t always done that. Cam had often been guarded about her emotions even around her endlessly understanding grandmother. Sometimes her reticence was because she couldn’t find the words, and sometimes it was because she hadn’t wanted to be a burden. But suddenly, whether it was because of her newly softened feelings about Flora or just the whirl of the past few weeks, the words seemed to tumble out, and with them came all the messy, complicated thoughts Cam had been harboring.

“I don’t even know what I want anymore,” Cam said as she wiped her eyes with Birdie’s linen napkin, which was soft from hundreds of washes. “Which isn’t like me. I’ve always had everything together. I knew exactly how things should go, but now…” She trailed off.

Birdie pushed aside her dinner plate and took her granddaughter’s hand across the table. “Not knowing what’s going to happen can actually be a heck of a lot of fun,” she said. “But as for knowing what you want, I think you might have an idea, deep down. You have shown how fearless you are in these last few weeks, and I couldn’t be more proud.”

“I always felt that you—and Avery, too—wished I was more… I don’t know, open to the world,” Cam said. “And I resented that for so long, but now I’m seeing maybe you were right.”

“I never wanted you to be someone you weren’t,” Birdie said. “But when you share a little bit of that light I have always seen in you, it is just dazzling. The world is a better place for it—and you are better, too. Whatever you decide, you, my dear, are capable of anything you dream of.”

Cam looked into her grandmother’s crinkle-edged eyes and felt a little twinge in her spine. She did feel strong. Maybe she had Ada to thank for it. But she believed Birdie’s words in a way she had never been able to before.

“Martina and I talked, and she offered to sell me the cafe,” Cam said. “She wants to stay in Florida with her daughter and granddaughter.” She watched her grandmother’s face for a reaction. “Wait, you knew? Oh, right, probably from Marcus. How that man manages to suss out everything that happens in Silver Cove I will never understand!”

“I had heard,” Birdie said, clearly trying to sound casual.

“I could picture myself doing that,” Cam said tentatively. She had barely gotten her head around the idea, and even talking about it felt scary—and yet reassuring. “Making delicious food for people and seeing neighbors every day. Being surrounded by people who know me and know my family. It would be so much work, but Martina says she has cooks and a manager who could practically run the place, so I wouldn’t have to be there twenty-four seven.”

“You know I have a personal and very vested interest in the cafe,” Birdie said. “I’ve been practically in withdrawal from my favorite silver-dollar pancakes since Martina closed up, so I would support your decision to run it.”

Cam laughed. “Other than securing your supply of your preferred drug of choice, what do you think?”

“I think,” Birdie said, “it sounds marvelous. And of course I would love nothing more than for you to stay here in Silver Cove. I don’t mean to sound like a needy old lady, but as I’ve gotten older, I’ve found myself wanting to hang on a little tighter to the people I love—mostly, you and Avery.”

Cam’s heart swelled as she looked down at Birdie’s hand in hers. She saw the spots and veins that came with her grandmother’s age, but they were badges of honor for a lifetime of using them to care for others. How many times had those hands wiped her tears or made her tea? She knew just how Birdie felt, even if she hadn’t lived the decades her grandmother had. Cam was feeling that same pull herself.

“And how are you feeling about living alone?” Cam asked. While they were having a heart-to-heart, she might as well get all her worries out there. “Even if I do stay in Silver Cove, I might not always want to live in your attic, you know. The apartment above the cafe is actually kind of cute. Do you think you might want help here?”

“I’m fine!” Birdie said. “I’m spry and healthy. I don’t need some nursemaid.”

“I know, I know,” Cam said, suddenly hatching an idea that struck her as inspired. “But what about a roommate? Just for the company.” Paige needed a little independence, and she would be turning eighteen soon. Cam might have been deliberately keeping her distance from Ian, but she still cared about his daughter. If she’d be willing, Paige could help Birdie with things around the house and give her grandmother someone to talk to—and Paige would have a place to stay where she didn’t feel like her father was breathing down her neck. “I was thinking maybe, if you asked Paige to stay with you, it might be good for the both of you.”

Birdie looked thoughtful. “You know, I do love the idea of having a teenage girl around,” she said. “I’d consider that. And I can’t help but wonder where a certain blue-eyed, power-tool-wielding man happens to fit into this lovely picture.”

Cam dropped her head into her arms on the oak table. “Oh, Birdie,” she said, “I think I might have missed my chance.”

“You don’t know that, sweetheart,” Birdie said, patting her back. “You just have to talk to him.”

Cam moaned into her elbow. The prospect filled her with dread. Ian would be perfectly right to reject her. She had hurt him, and now she had, what, changed her mind? Why would he trust her? And what was it that Francine had said? That every single woman in Silver Cove and half the neighboring counties was throwing themselves at him? For all Cam knew, he was making Bolognese for some other woman and kissing her with violent passion at this very moment. “Let me just get through one nightmare confrontation at a time,” Cam said. “First the Historical Society, and then heartbreak.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Birdie had set up a ring of squeaky metal folding chairs in the museum portion of Merriweather House for each board member and for Cam, Russell, and Francine. Cam watched, her clammy hands fiddling with a stack of copies she had made of the letter from Vivian, as people filed in and greeted one another, peeling off jackets and scarves and making themselves comfortable. She gave each one a nervous nod, including Miles, who flashed her a surreptitious thumbs-up.

Francine threw her leopard coat over the back of the chair next to Cam’s and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“Knock ’em dead, girl,” she said, drawing a small smile from Cam. “You’ve got this.”

As the committee members took their seats, Roxy was visibly flustered, flipping her scarf with impatience. It was obvious that the mayor did not like it when she wasn’t the one in charge. And not knowing the business at hand was clearly not sitting well. For Roxy Shipman, being out of the loop was foreign territory.

“What on earth is going on here, Birdie Parker?” Roxy demanded when her grandmother took her place. “We always meet on the last Tuesday of every month, and in my decades as president of the Historical Society, I don’t recall ever having an ‘emergency session.’ Someone please tell me what this is all about! And who is that man?” She pointed accusingly at Russell, who had wisely not sported his usual city-slicker designer suit and had instead opted for a lower-key ensemble of khakis and a blue blazer. Not that he was blending in exactly—the Hermès belt and Cartier watch weren’t exactly part of the usual Silver Cove menswear uniform.

Birdie merely looked beatific. “Hello to you, too, Roxy,” she said calmly. “If we’re all here, I think it would be best if I just turned tonight’s meeting over to my granddaughter, Cam Parker.”

Cam stood and watched Roxy’s cheeks go from cotton-candy pink to strawberry. “Hello, and thank you all for coming,” Cam said, clearing her throat. “The reason my grandmother asked you here is that I have interesting news to share with you about the authorship of Stormy of Silver Cove.”

“This is ridiculous,” Roxy interjected. “How can there be news when we’re about to celebrate its centennial?”