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“If you need to meet up with them—”

“Nope, I don’t.” She like the way he looked at her. Only today she didn’t feel like melting. She felt beautiful.

“Any updates from the town council meeting?” she said.

“No, but I’ve been working on designs for the Org.

Homestead among other things. Emery, if we can get the funds, not only will we preserve a piece of our founding but we’ll have housing for seniors, singles, and young families.

The councilmembers from the West End aren’t thinking about everyday citizens. ”

“I love that, but there’s only twelve houses, Caleb.”

“True, but they are the very first houses in Sea Blue Beach. And it’s a start for preservation. A nod toward affordable housing.”

When they arrived at the hot dog stand, Caleb suggested she find a table while he ordered. She tried to hand him some money, but he refused.

She snagged a spot under a giant oak with swaying Spanish moss, near the Super Himalaya ride blasting Boston’s “More Than a Feeling.”

She was checking her phone for more texts from QuinnFam when he arrived with their baskets of food and a caddy of drinks.

“You looked pensive by the Serendiporama.” He passed over a basket with a hot dog and fries.

“My family was texting. My sister found her wedding dress, and Joanna, her mom, wants me to come to her bridal shower in March. But it’s too soon. I’m just getting settled here. And the weekend is all-hands-on-deck for the Sunday edition.”

She was exaggerating a little bit. Gayle had all the ads designed by Thursday afternoon.

Junie had the pagination done by Saturday morning.

All Rex or Emery had to do was hit a couple of keys to flow the final stories.

Jane only came into the office for the staff meeting.

Rex was training Emery on the Gazette ’s production process and Junie was teaching her to paginate.

Even Tobias, the janitor, gave her an overview of his chores.

“I get it,” Caleb said. “I’d probably feel the same way.” He hoisted his soda cup. “Here’s to your success of today’s Sunday Gazette .”

She tapped her cup with Caleb’s. “I know it was only four pages, but they were my four pages as editor-in-chief.” She wiped a bit of mustard from her hand. “I shouldn’t be, but I’m proud of it.”

“You have every right to be proud. My first design from college is in a frame on my office wall.”

“From the University of Florida? That was your destination back in the day, if I remember right.”

“I was headed to Gainesville until I got accepted into Cornell.”

“Cornell? Ivy League. Wow. I never took you for the jaunty-sweater-tied-around-your-neck kind of guy.”

“I would’ve been if I’d gone to school in the 1950s.” Caleb’s manner was so confident. “Cornell was great. I was a fish out of water for the first year, mostly because it was so darn cold. But I adapted. Loved it.”

“I loved college for all the usual reasons but also for the distraction from Dad and his new family.”

Caleb gave her a look. “Do you think if she was your biological sister you’d go? To her shower?”

Emery studied Caleb for a long moment, fielding the weight of his question.

“Never looked at it that way before, but yeah, I guess I’d go.

Feel more obligated, anyway.” She shoved her hot dog basket aside.

“Here’s the truth, and it sounds childish and immature, but Ava, the engagement, all the wedding planning .

.. Caleb, it only reminds me of what I don’t have.

Her mother is alive, and mine is dead. I know, I know, grow up, Emery, but every time I think of the wedding, I get sad and anxious, knotted up.

Joanna gets to celebrate this momentous occasion with her daughter—who is now my dad’s daughter.

I’m working on being more gracious, but all this reminds me that death robbed some part of my life before I had a chance to live it.

I feel like an orphan, which I’m not, but there’s my gut truth.

Joanna and the girls love me. I love them. I’m just not one of them.”

“Emery, at least you’re honest with yourself,” Caleb said. “Most people can’t express themselves like you did. I didn’t have a parent die, but I’ve wrestled with Cassidy and the family dynamic she creates. I’ve come to realize love doesn’t require perfection.”

“Nor fairness. Is it fair I don’t have a mother while Ava has her mother and my father? Joanna didn’t kill Mom. Dad did a wonderful thing adopting Ava and Elianna. They love him. Yet here I am with one foot out the door.”

“To me, you’re more in the door than you realize. Otherwise, none of this would bother you.”

“Maybe.” Emery gave him a small smile. She’d spilled more than she’d intended. But somehow saying it out loud helped her make sense of her tangled emotions.

The conversation shifted to life updates since the summer of ’09. Caleb asked more about Ohio State, and she wondered how he’d liked living in Seattle.

“I didn’t know it rained so much,” Caleb said with a laugh. “But five years in Ithaca trained me for weather. Besides, I was busy building a new firm. What about you? How’d you land at the Free Voice ?”

“I kept sending Lou Lennon, the founder and editor, clips of my stories in the Ohio State Lantern . He ignored me for a while, then emailed me out of the blue before I graduated.” Emery loved recalling that story.

“I wanted to learn everything I could from him. He was tough, but he taught me the nuts and bolts of journalism.”

“And there are honestly no boyfriends in your wake?” He peered at her over the rim of his soda cup.

“There was a guy my junior year. When the spring semester ended, he shook my hand and said, ‘Have a nice summer.’”

“So a real classy guy.” Caleb expression made her laugh.

“Oh, the best. Ending it was fine with me. I didn’t take our relationship seriously.

Love is a bit scary. You never know when the one you love could be ripped away from you.

I never thought Mom would die so young. I don’t want to ever want to be blindsided like that again.

” She pointed at Caleb. “How many broken hearts in your wake? Tell the truth.”

“One. I think. Hard to tell with Lizzie. We were semi-serious for about a year. When I told her I didn’t want to go to the next level, she stormed out of my apartment shouting, ‘Seek help, Caleb,’ and slammed the door.”

“Did you?” Emery said with a glance skyward. During their short lunch conversation, clouds had gathered over the carnival, obscuring the sun’s distant warmth. “Seek help?”

“Yeah, I called building maintenance. She broke the brass plate around the knob when she slammed the door.” Caleb checked the darkening sky and started gathering their trash. “Should we catch some rides before it rains?”

“Let’s do it.” Emery took a final bite of her hot dog, then tossed the basket and the last of her drink in the trash. “Let’s head for the Ferris wheel. It’ll be one of the first to close down.”

“Or ...” Caleb headed for the thoroughfare. “We skip the Ferris wheel and ride the carousel.”

“Skip the Ferris wheel?” Emery fell in step with him. “Are you still afraid of it?”

“No, only I prefer to ride the plastic ponies first.” He grabbed her hand, tugging her toward the other rides. “The carousel is completely empty.”

“So is the Ferris wheel.”

“But remember, when we first came here that summer, we rode the merry-go-round first.”

“You’re just hoping we’ll get rained out.”

“Yes, absolutely. I’m not ashamed to admit it.”

“Caleb Ransom, you have to ride the Ferris wheel. Fear can’t win.”

“It’s not fear, more like wisdom.” He pointed at the colorfully lit wheel. “I can hear the bolts buckling from here, Emery.”

“No, you can’t.” She released his hand to push him from the back. “Here we go, overcoming all our fears.”

Caleb dug in his heels. “Did you feel that? A sprinkle. They’re shutting down the rides, Quinn. Aw, too bad.”

“We have a chance. There’s a few people getting on.”

She pushed, and he resisted, yet somehow she managed to get him there in time for the last bucket. “You almost missed it,” the ride jockey said. “We’re shutting down after this one. Storm’s coming.”

“What luck, eh, Caleb?” Emery nudged him. “Last spin before the rain.”

“I’m buying a lottery ticket if we get off this thing.” He anchored himself against the seat, feet pressed against the footrest, hands gripping the safety bar, his gills a little green.

“You don’t have to hold so tight.” She tried to ease his grip. “We’re still on the ground.”

Still he held fast. “How is it, sixteen years later, you’ve got me on the dumb thing again?”

“Don’t know,” she said. “Must be love.” She meant it as a joke, yet the air between them sparked with a subtle truth. “Just kidding.”

But when she looked over at him, nothing about this moment seemed funny.

“Hey, ride jockey.” Emery pounded the side of their seat. “Get this bucket of bolts moving.”