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Dan’s expression turns slightly rueful. “Yeah… not so much. James and my friends tried for a long time. Kept inviting me out, getting me to go to events, meetups, whatever. Even signed me up to some of those dating sites. I always had an excuse.” He sighs. “After a few years… they just stopped asking.”

I study him for a moment. The way he says it, there’s no bitterness, just a quiet acceptance. But it still makes something in my chest tighten.

“They probably just assumed you needed space,” I say carefully.

Dan nods, but his gaze stays distant. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Silence lingers again, but this time, I feel it differently.

“You know,” I say lightly, nudging his arm, “you could start saying yes.”

Dan lets out a small sigh. “Yeah.” He looks at me then, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe.”

It’s not a promise. But it’s something I can work with. After today I need a win. Badly.

Not just a work win—a personal one. Something that reminds me I can still make things happen. That I still know how to read people, shape stories, spark momentum.

And I can’t help thinking back to that early conversation with Dan. To the way he smiled when he talked about acting like it was a long-lost friend he wasn’t sure he had the right to miss.

To the way he brushed it off like it didn’t matter anymore—like it shouldn’t matter.

But what if it did?

What if I could help him believe in it again? In himself again?

He’d never ask. That much I know. And honestly, that’s half the problem. People like Dan—quietly decent, relentlessly selfless—they’re so used to putting others first, they forget they ever had a dream of their own.

But I remember.

I saw it. The flicker.

And then, like a spark igniting, an idea takes hold in my mind.

“What if… What if you threw a party? For finishing the boathouse, to celebrate your new start?”

He looks at me, skepticism mingling with curiosity in his expression.

“What kind of party?”

“A housewarming party! A chance to celebrate this new chapter, to surround yourself with people who care about you, who support you. It could be like drawing a line in the sand, marking the beginning of something new and wonderful.”

I can see the wheels turning in his head as he considers it, the initial reluctance giving way to a glimmer of possibility. Then, just as quickly, a cloud seems to pass behind his eyes.

“I don’t know, Rachel. It’s been so long since I’ve invited anyone over. I don’t really have friends anymore.”

I lean in closer, my voice filled with conviction.

“That’s exactly why you need to do this, Dan. It’s time to start living again, to embrace the love and the light that’s all around you. This party could be the first step, a chance to heal, to find joy and purpose again. And even if you don’t want to do it for you. Do it for Chloe.”

He stares at me for a long moment, the conflict playing out across his face. And then, slowly, a smile begins to tug at the corners of his mouth.

“Okay,” he says. “Let’s do it. Let’s throw a party.”

And as he clinks his bottle against my wine glass, sealing our pact, I feel a surge of warmth and hope blossoming in my chest. I remember the reruns Mom used to make Claire and I watch when we were kids, shows from the eighties I think,Highway to HeavenandQuantum Leap. Maybe, just maybe, this unexpected detour in Maine is myQuantum Leapmoment—leaving a little bit of cheer and happiness with those who need it, before I take my leave and head back to Chicago.

I sip from my glass of wine as I watch Dan’s expression shift from hesitation to determination. It’s a subtle change, but I can see the glimmer of hope in his eyes, the way his shoulders straighten ever so slightly.

“So, where do we start?” he asks, leaning forward on his elbows. “I haven’t exactly beenone of the guys,lately. I’ve been hiding out at the house, focusing on Chloe. There’s a really good chance that no one will show up.”