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“What do you mean my website?” Isla hisses as soon as the woman leaves the booth.
“I’ll get Alistair on it,” I tell her. “He’s got web designers on speed dial. Isla, this is great. You start with catering—you can use the Everton kitchen. We’ve got all those appliances sitting around gathering dust.”
“There’s not a speck of dust in that kitchen.”
“Okay, but you know what I mean. You start with catering, you save up, then you open your own bakery.” I would buy her a bakery in a heartbeat, but I know that’s not what Isla would want. “It’s your dream. This is just the beginning.”
I see it take shape in her mind’s eye, see the images whir behind that bottle-green gaze. Watch the excitement build.
“Caden!” she squeals, launching herself into my arms.
I nuzzle against her hair and breathe in her scent. “I’m so proud of you.”
She pulls back to look me in the eyes. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Yes, you could have,” I say. “But I’m happy I get to help.”I cock my head. “That woman reminded me. I owe you a trip to Paris.”
Isla laughs. “One thing at a time.”
“Can we still fly first class?” I tease.
“Only if you drink cheap Bordeaux with me on the Pont des Arts.”
“Deal.” I lean down to kiss her.
“Oh good,” a voice says, breaking us apart. I turn to see Mrs. Greerson grinning like the proverbial cat. “I knew you two belonged together. I could feel it in my bones. Got a sixth sense about things like that.”
“Sure, Mrs. Greerson,” Isla says.
“Don’tsureme, child. Now, I’ll take two of those almond croissants and a box of Bakewell tarts if you please.”
As Isla packs up the order, I look out at the booths that dot the green. Dev and Reggie have their hands full at the Grater Good booth while Daisy pours tastings of Everton wines at my family’s booth. I see a familiar figure in the crowds and my eyes widen in shock as my father turns and meets my gaze. He’s got an ice cream cone in one hand and his face is more relaxed than I’ve ever seen it.
He raises the cone to me like a toast. I smile and nod.
A gentle breeze carries the scent of the bay across the grass. Children fly kites by the water, or run around chasing each other, or wait in line to get their faces painted. Eric Kim is handing an iced coffee to the woman who wants Isla to cater for her, and Joni Lewis is wrapping up a bouquet of local wildflowers for a waiting customer. I take it all in, this place that is my home, this festival that my mother loved so dearly. She would have been happy today.
I allow myself to be happy too.
“Hey,” Noah says, rushing over to me. “The sheriff sent me to tell you.” Isla comes over to join us. “The casing is a 9mm. We’ve finally got a caliber.”
A wave of dizziness takes me.
“This…this is…” I don’t have the words.
“But that’s not all.” Noah grins. “There’s a fingerprint.”
“What?” Isla gasps.
Noah nods. “We’re sending it to the FBI lab. They have this new technology that’s pretty good at lifting prints off casings. It should take about a week but hopefully, this jerk is in the system. We’re so close, Cade.”
I’m stunned. A fingerprint. Concrete proof. At last.
Isla wraps her arms around my waist and pecks my cheek. “So close,” she echoes.
I scoop her up and kiss her. This day, this moment, this entire summer feels like one big victory. My future, once so bleak and empty, now shines brighter than the afternoon sun.
And with Isla by my side, I feel like I can face whatever comes next.