It seemed that Dewberry Beach would survive Marc’s greed after all. The town would get an oceanfront art gallery, where local artists could show their work. And beside it, Jill imagined a cozy, light-filled cottage in place of The Monstrosity with a family and children living inside. Nancy Pellish’s plum tree would flourish in the sunlight and the neighbors’ view of the ocean would be restored.
It really was the best outcome, even if Jill couldn’t be a part of it. It was enough that she’d made things right.
“Good, so if we’re agreed, we should get to work.” Chase gathered the pages and tapped them against the table. “We’ll start by contacting your bank on Monday. I’ll speak to them and arrange things. The architect for the cottage is local and he can meet with us later in the week, if you’re free?”
“Um, sure.” Jill imagined the drive from Ellie’s apartment, where she would be living while she looked for work, to Dewberry Beach. “I need to find a job,” she admitted. “But I’ll look for one with flexible hours so I can come down and meet you whenever I need to.”
“You didn’t tell her!” Mrs. Ivey frowned gently at Chase. “Honestly, Chase.” She smiled at Jill. “The Dewberry Beach Trumpet, our local newspaper, is in need of a staff photographer, and Brenda has recommended you for the job. It’s part-time in the off-season but you can supplement your income with freelance work that we can direct your way, or you can use the extra time to focus on your own photography.”
“But…” Jill glanced at Ellie. The plan was for them to be roommates and she didn’t want to abandon her friend.
“Oh, I’ll be fine, Jilly.” Ellie straightened, proudly. “You’re looking at bestselling author Billy Jacobs’s new personal assistant. Mrs. Ivey reminded Billy that this project will take the better part of a year and he lost his mind. He wants no part of the process, but I do! Can you imagine? Tear the structures down, rebuild, then organize the retreats, start advertising… it’s a huge thing.” Ellie’s eyes glittered with happiness. No one loved a project more than she did. She locked arms with Jill and leaned in to whisper, “We should find an apartment down here, don’t you think?”
“So, what do you say?” Chase smiled. “Are you in?”
“Yes, absolutely,” Jill agreed.
“Then I guess we should get going.” Chase helped Mrs. Ivey with her coat. “If Simon Paulson thinks he’s going to win the cook-off tonight with that nasty sausage roll of his, he’s got another think coming.”
“Chase Bennett!” Mrs. Ivey’s expression dripped with reproach, but even Jill could see that it was fake. Her eyes twinkled with laughter.
“It’s true.” Chase scowled. “That man makes the same thing every year and the wins are starting to go to his head. It’s past time for him to face a real challenger. I’ve had chicken marinating for two days now, and this is the year that man’s knocked off the podium. I can feel it.”
With everything that had happened in the last few days, it took Jill a moment to realize Chase was talking about the festival. Of course they’d want to get back to it.
Jill watched while they gathered their things.
“Aren’t you coming?” Chase asked.
“Really?”
“Really. You girls are officially part of the community now.”
“Um, sure. Let me just get my jacket.” Jill turned to hide her expression. Dewberry Beach felt like home. Aunt Sarah would have been pleased.
“Now be sure to visit the dessert tent and vote for my lemon pound cake,” Mrs. Ivey said as Jill pulled the front door shut behind them. “Chase isn’t the only one facing a challenger. Betty Grable makes a mean apple spice cake—you’ve tasted it, so I need all the votes I can get to win this year.” She squeezed Jill’s hand. “But I might. It feels like a lucky year, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” Jill agreed as they headed for the festival. “It really does.”
The four of them walked into town, Ellie and Mrs. Ivey up front, Jill and Chase strolling behind. The air was crisp and fresh. Overhead, the canopy of fall leaves made brilliant pops of orange and yellow against the deep blue sky. As they got closer to town, there was the smell of charcoal fires and delicious things grilling. The festival flyers said the cook-off went on all afternoon, and judged categories included everything from appetizers to desserts. Tents and grills had been set up on the lawn near the firehouse for days, and as Jill watched people darting back and forth, adding the finishing touches to their tables, she wondered if any firefighters had entered.
Chase’s cell phone pinged with an incoming call. As he found his phone and answered it, Jill waited with him.
Aunt Sarah would have loved this town. She would have found gardening friends here, and Uncle Barney would have found men to fish with, friends who hadn’t yet heard all his stories.
Best of all, The Monstrosity would be demolished, and all traces of Marc would be gone.
Jill hoped to settle here someday, in an apartment or maybe even a cottage. If she found something affordable, she would fix it up and stay forever. This was the life that fit her—this was what she wanted. And staff photographer for the Dewberry Beach Trumpet was a perfect job. She hoped that lasted too.
Beside her, Chase ended his call. Sliding his phone back into his pocket, he chuckled.
“What’s funny?” Jill asked.
“Not funny, satisfying,” he corrected as they continued on. “When things look especially grim, I am reminded that the wheels of justice may turn slowly but the grind is exceedingly fine.” They paused at a crosswalk to wait for the light. “That was my friend at the justice department. I forwarded him your research and the recording from the restaurant, along with a few thoughts of my own.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. He was calling to thank me. Apparently the recording
