Page 40

CALEB

On the eve of the royal visit, he was exhilarated and exhausted. Sitting around the crackling firepit of the Sands Motor Motel courtyard, Emery curled in his lap, glass of wine in his hand, he finally, finally exhaled.

The jumble of voices and to-dos in his head went silent. After eight hectic weeks, Sea Blue Beach was ready. Once Simon hired Caleb to head up logistics for the royal visit, he zeroed in on all he had to do, found his stride, and got more done in the last two months than the previous six.

The Swansons’ design was complete, and ground had been broken. The ?sters’ plan was still on the drafting table because Mrs. ?ster kept changing her mind.

Alderman’s Pharmacy reached the halfway mark this week—restoring history took time. Jenny Finch graciously donated to the East End restoration fund before knowing about the royal visit. She was bowled over to receive one of the few gold-embossed invitations for the Friday night reception.

On Saturday, one hundred and twenty town and business leaders, educators and students, city workers, first responders, doctors, l awyers, and senior residents of Sea Blue Beach would gather under a forty-by-sixty tent on the beach for a brunch reception.

Chief Kelly, along with the royal protection detail and a crew from the US State Department, was handling security. Simon and the town council were hosting, overseeing the reception line, and Misty from Sweet Conversations and Paige from the Blue Plate Diner were tapped to supply all the food.

Mac Diamond asserted that the Skylight—the finest restaurant in Sea Blue Beach (he stopped saying “in the West End” the moment he heard the news)—should cater the brunch, but Simon put a lock on the East End businesses.

Servers from about every café and restaurant in town volunteered to keep the champagne flowing and food platters filled. A team of twenty were selected. They’d wear blue Tommy Bahama shirts and khaki shorts.

The high school string quartet had been retained to serenade both events. Caleb was impressed when he visited their rehearsal this morning. The historical markers arrived, and a crew from the city cemented them in place last night.

The whole town buzzed. Every hotel and rental was booked, and as of yesterday, the East End crawled with tourists and security.

Hometown Hollywood legends Matt Knight and Harlow Hayes offered their lovely home at 321 Sea Blue Way for the royal couple’s one-night stay.

After all, Prince Blue was its builder and first resident.

Descendants of the Nickle family had a private meeting with Prince John and Princess Gemma before the Friday night reception.

Royal watchers and photographers lurked against the barricade and roped-off areas. And Chief Kelly had assured Simon everything was under control.

Bentley continued to thrive, becoming more grounded every d ay. When Emery ran her story on the royal visit, Bent read up on everything about the House of Blue and Lauchtenland, then generously shared his knowledge with Caleb at the dinner table.

He was grateful for this quiet moment with Emery.

“What’s that pinched expression?” she said. “You did a fabulous job, Caleb. The program is beautiful.”

“Dad gave me lots of logistical help. I was just running through everything in my head. What did I forget? Do you think the West End is really okay with the prince and princess only touring the East End? I have this feeling Mac will pull something.”

“He’d be a fool to try. The itinerary was suggested and approved by the Chamber Office. It’s what the Royal Blues wanted. As for getting everything done, babe, you had lists of your lists. You marked off everything.”

Babe. A new term for them. One that came into play somewhere between “the royals are coming” and tonight, they had happened—Caleb and Emery.

During the last eight weeks, if Emery wasn’t at the paper, she was at his house, helping source items for the East End’s beautification, making calls, approving colors for the banners, making dinner, and enduring Bentley’s fount of royal knowledge.

While plenty of kisses had been shared, there’d been no declarations of love. Yet he felt it with every ounce of his being.

“I can’t believe we got it done in time.” Caleb twisted his fingers through the ends of her hair.

“Delilah believes it’s because of Immanuel, God with us.”

“With the number of volunteers we had, I believe it.”

The banners, the lights, the flower planters, the repaired and painted benches, along with the storefront renewals, were all done by volunteers. Bobby Brockton sent over a crew to fix the broken bricks of Sea Blue Way. On his own dime.

“ I’m a fourth generation Sea Bluean , ” he said. “How could I not contribute to this once-in-a -century visit?”

Even Mac puffed out his chest and hired a team to trim the trees and cut back the ground cover in the Org. Homestead.

Caleb nodded toward Delilah, who watered the flowers she’d recently planted in the courtyard. The Sands Motor Motel was the royal couple’s first stop after the brunch.

“I heard the princess is a fan of her music.”

“Really? You must’ve read that somewhere.” Emery pressed her laughing lips to his.

“I think I did. In a great little newspaper called the Sea Blue Beach Gazette .” Caleb never spent a lot of time imagining his future—he knew how precarious relationships could be—but sharing all of this with Emery felt like the beginning of many, many lovely moments. Millions, billions of them.

“I was talking to Bentley last night after dinner,” she said. “He really misses his mom. She’s not called in a while.”

“She’s ticked that I wouldn’t invite her to the royal brunch,” Caleb said.

“There was a flurry of QuinnFam texts when the news broke. They all wanted to come, then pretended to be mad when I said no. But they really do understand. Are you sure that’s not the case with Cassidy?”

“If I go by her word choice, she’s mad. She has it in her head she’s a nobody. The lack of an invitation is further proof. It’s worse because her son is invited.”

“Then I guess Bentley didn’t tell you she texted him. Told him to invite her if he loved her.”

Caleb glanced up at Emery. “He said that?”

“Yes. I thought you should be aware he feels guilty.”

“I’ll talk to him tonight.”

Emery ran her fingers through his hair. He’d gone to the b arber earlier today, ready for the weekend, but Em could mess up his hair anytime. “Is anything else bothering you?” she said.

“Why do you ask?”

“You seemed distracted.”

“You’re not supposed to turn your trained journalistic eye on me, Quinn.”

“You don’t have to tell me but—”

“Mac emailed me this week. Wants to know my answer.”

“And?”

“Usually I know exactly what to do. I assess a situation and decide. But this one ... Am I turning down an opportunity because of my own prejudice?” With that, he kissed her and said he needed to go. “Bentley’s home alone.”

“Caleb, take the job if you want, but only if you honestly and truly want to work with Mac Diamond.”

“Sound advice.” He hooked her to him with one arm for one last kiss. “See you tomorrow.”

“Are your clothes ready?”

He laughed. “Yes, all pressed. Bentley’s too.”

Last month, they’d searched online, at very expensive sites, for the appropriate upscale but casual wear, and learned they had very different taste.

“Light green button-down with a subtle pattern,” he said, describing the outfit on which they compromised. “A pair of cream-colored slacks and mocha-colored canvas oxfords. Did I get all the words right? What about you?”

“Still deciding among my fifteen options. Joanna sent me a dress this week. It’s at the top of the list. Which means my expensive purchases were for nothing.”

“Shopping for a grand occasion? Four thousand dollars. Shaking the hand of a royal prince and princess—”

“Priceless.”

C aleb kissed her forehead. “Get some sleep.”

“I’ll meet you at the reception. I’ve got to be at the paper early to prep for our special edition. The Sunday Royal Gazette . I’m meeting Kadasha Collier at noon, then off to Murph at Yes Hair Do for some sort of updo.”

Backing away slowly, Caleb held onto her hand until their fingers slipped apart. On his way home, he stopped at Biggs for a roasted chicken, bag of salad, and a carton of mac and cheese.

At the house, he walked through the back door, bags swinging from his hands, picturing Emery that night after her first town council meeting. “He just Mr. Pottered you.”

Was Mac still Mr. Pottering him? Was he a George Bailey—a restless soul wanting to change the world, but blind to the good in front of him?

“Bent?” He set the groceries on the counter and headed to his office, glancing twice at the fort of unpacked boxes. “I brought dinner.”

The house was too quiet. He jogged upstairs to Bentley’s room. The desk lamp was on, but his computer was gone. “Bent?”

He checked the bathroom, picked up the towel on the floor, then went back to Bentley’s room. The space felt ... abandoned. Caleb shoved open the closet. Empty. As were the dresser drawers. He checked the desk. Bentley’s math award was gone. In its place, he found a note.

Came for Bentley. We’re going on an adventure. Xx , Cass.