Page 50

Kelsey smoothed the front of her emerald silk dress, checking her reflection one last time. The elegant boat neck flattered her collarbone, and the skirt floated just at her knees—formal enough for a supposed board-of-directors event, but comfortable enough for the real celebration to follow.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Mac: On my way. Grandad’s ready and excited.

She smiled despite herself. They’d been texting constantly since Wednesday, finalizing party details while carefully avoiding deeper subjects. Their messages remained cordial and focused—who was bringing what, when guests should arrive, how to ensure Truman wouldn’t suspect anything. A fragile peace treaty conducted through emojis and short sentences.

The crunch of tires on gravel announced Mac’s arrival. Through the window, she watched him emerge from his Range Rover looking devastatingly handsome in a charcoal suit that fit his broad shoulders perfectly. He’d even added a tie, navy blue with silver flecks that caught the early evening light.

When she opened the door, his gaze traveled the length of her dress and lingered appreciatively. “You look beautiful,” he said simply.

“Thank you,” she replied, grabbing her wrap and small purse.

The drive to Truman’s cottage was a short one, filled with last-minute details.

“Johnson’s handling the caterers,” Mac said, then turned onto the narrow lane leading to his grandfather’s place. “Eleanor insisted on bringing her famous coconut cake, though, so I made room for it on the dessert table.”

“Smart move. I’ve tasted that cake—it’s worth rearranging a party for.”

Mac’s smile was quick but genuine. “Fireworks are set for nine thirty. The company assured me everything’s ready to go.”

Truman was waiting on his front porch when they arrived, leaning on his cane but dressed impeccably in a tailored navy suit that hung on his diminished frame but still held an undeniable elegance. A white pocket square and polished shoes completed the look.

“Look at you two,” he called as they approached. “Giving an old man hope for the next generation.”

“You’re looking rather dashing yourself,” Kelsey said, accepting his kiss on her cheek.

“This old thing?” Truman brushed nonexistent lint from his lapel. “Had it since ’92. Still fits, though the tailor had to take it in a bit. Apparently dying makes you skinny.”

“Grandad,” Mac’s tone was warning but affectionate.

“Just stating facts, boy.” Truman allowed himself to be helped into the front seat of the Range Rover. “Now, what’s this about a dedication ceremony? Seems like a lot of fuss.”

“The board wants to recognize your contributions to the island,” Mac explained smoothly while sliding behind the wheel. “You’ve done a lot for the community over the years.”

“Hmph. Just good business sense. Take care of the people, they take care of you.”

Kelsey turned slightly in her seat. “Everyone’s excited to honor you. It means a lot to the island.”

Truman harrumphed again, but she caught the pleased glimmer in his eyes.

As they neared Mac’s house, he suddenly patted his pockets. His performance was convincing enough that Kelsey almost believed his dismay.

“Everything okay?” she asked on cue.

“My wallet,” Mac said, turning onto his driveway. “I must have left it at home when I changed. Would you mind if we stop for a minute? I need it for the donation they’re asking for tonight.”

“Always asking for money, these things,” Truman grumbled good-naturedly. “Fine, but make it quick. I’d like to get there before I croak.”

Mac parked in front of his house, which sat in apparent darkness. “Won’t take long. Why don’t you both come in? No sense sitting in the car.”

Kelsey helped Truman by supporting his elbow as they walked toward the front door. Mac went ahead, unlocking it and stepping inside first.

When Truman crossed the threshold, the lights blazed on and a chorus of voices shouted, “SURPRISE!”

Truman stumbled backward slightly, clutching Kelsey’s arm. For a terrifying moment, she feared they’d given him a heart attack. Then his face split into a smile of pure delight.

“You crafty devils,” he laughed. Tears sprang to his eyes as he looked around at the crowd filling Mac’s spacious living room. “You got me, you really got me!”

The room was transformed. Twinkle lights draped from every surface, flowers adorned every table, and a banner reading Happy 95th Birthday Truman! stretched across the far wall. Dozens of familiar faces beamed at them—shopkeepers, fishermen, nurses from the clinic, and many of the older residents who had known Truman for decades. To Kelsey it looked as though most of the population of Widow’s Point was there.