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I still didn’t know what Harvey had supposedly buried, or who had sent the message, but I couldn’t shake the memory of his face when he’d read it. Whatever the message meant, it had unsettled him.

“Max?”

I turned so quickly that a little cider sloshed over the rim of my cup. Josiah stood a few feet away, wearing his sheriff’s uniform, his badge catching the light from the nearest string of bulbs. His expression softened when he saw me, though the professional alertness in his eyes never quite disappeared.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t.” I glanced down at the cider on my hand. “That was entirely my own fault.”

He offered me a napkin from the pocket of his uniform trousers. I accepted it, suddenly much too aware of the small distance between us and the fact that I could still recognize the familiar details of his face without needing to look closely. Time had changed us both, but it hadn’t erased everything I remembered.

“Enjoying the festival?” he asked.

“So far. Ricky has already developed a complicated relationship with the crab-cake vendors.”

Josiah’s mouth curved. “I’m sure they appreciate his loyalty.”

“They may need to hire additional staff to keep up with his demands.”

“That sounds like a serious public-safety concern.”

I laughed, and the sound came more easily than I expected. For a moment, we were simply Max and Josiah, two people who’d once known each other well enough to communicate with a glance. Then I remembered how many years lay between that version of us and this one, and the ease of the moment tightened into something more complicated. Josiah seemed to feel the shift, too. His expression grew more careful.

“I’m working tonight,” he said. “We’ve got a good crowd, and I’d rather not have anyone getting hurt in the rush at the end.”

“Of course. I won’t keep you.”

“You’re not keeping me.” He paused, his gaze holding mine for another heartbeat. “I’m glad you came.”

I didn’t know what to do with that, so I looked toward the bandstand instead. “It’s the last night. Would be a shame to miss the music.”

“Yeah.” His voice was quieter now. “It would.”

Before either of us could say anything else, someone called his name from near the information tent. Josiah glanced in that direction, then back at me.

“I’d better check that.”

“Go on. Do your sheriff thing.”

He gave me a small smile before walking away, and I watched him for longer than I meant to. I’d spent years telling myself I was perfectly content with the life I’d built. I had my writing, my house, my friends, and enough deadlines to keep me busy. I didn’t need Josiah Mercer to come back into my life and rearrange everything I’d carefully put in place. The trouble was that he was already doing it, and we hadn’t even had a proper conversation about the past.

I took another sip of what was left of my cider and made myself look away.

The next half hour passed pleasantly enough. I found Ricky near the food stalls, where he’d secured a crab cake from a different, much closer vendor and was explaining to a woman from the festival committee why the preserved-goods judging ought to include a category for unusual pickles. She appeared to be listening with the weary patience of someone who’d already heard three similar proposals that afternoon.

When Ricky finally noticed me, he waved his crab cake in greeting. “Max! You have to try this.”

“I thought you were saving me a funnel cake.”

“I can do both. I’m very generous.”

“You’re very hungry.”

“That, too.”

I let him press a bite of crab cake on me, and I had to admit it was excellent. The outside was crisp, the center tender, and the seasoning had just enough heat to make the flavor interesting without overwhelming the crab. Ricky looked insufferably pleased when I told him so.

We wandered toward the bandstand together, pausing when we spotted Tammy arriving from the temporary overflow festival parking lot. She’d changed into a pair of neat ankle boots and added enough makeup to make her eyes stand out beneath the lights. Her hair had been brushed into place, and she wore the expression of a woman who was entirely prepared to insist that she’d made no special effort whatsoever.