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EMERY

“Darling, wake up.” Delilah’s voice was followed by a pounding on the cottage door, then the click of a key in the lock. “Emery, come quick. Hurry.”

“I’m coming.” She fell out of bed, thus ending the lovely dream of dancing at a royal ball with Caleb.

Last night, the two of them spent close to forty minutes with the prince and princess, tasting wine and cheese, talking about sports, education, art, and the state of modern media, like they were besties. Honestly, it was insane.

When the royal couple headed to 321 Sea Blue Way for the night, Emery was all agog, running to the paper to see Kadasha’s initial photographs. They were stunning. The woman was worth every penny.

Caleb surprised her, waiting for her outside of Cottage 7, a fire in the firepit. She automatically curled into his lap—her favorite place to be—and they talked over each other while recalling the evening and dreaming about tomorrow’s event.

“Never , ever did I foresee this when I accepted the Gazette job . Me , guffaw-laughing with a princess.”

“ She felt like a southern American girl and a royal all at the same time , ” Caleb said.

“Emery?” Delilah called from the front room. “You must come.”

“What? What is it?” Half awake, she tripped into the living room, tugging on her yoga pants. “I was having such a good dream.”

“Well, it’s about to be a nightmare. Grab your shoes and sweatshirt and follow me.”

A nightmare? What sort of nightmare? Emery dashed to the window over the settee. Was it raining? Were dark clouds threatening the beach brunch? That would be a nightmare.

Emery slipped on her hoodie and sneakers, then hurried with Delilah toward the Beachwalk.

Up ahead, the tent for the brunch stood tall against the breaking dawn—which seemed to be cooperating with their plan for a beautiful day with low humidity and gentle breezes.

The Gulf lapped quietly against the shore.

“I see beauty, Delilah,” Emery said, arms wide, drawing in a cleansing breath of salty air. “Where’s this nightmare you speak of?”

“Brace yourself.” Delilah left the Beachwalk to plow through the sand toward the tent.

“The princess seemed so moved when she thanked you for your music.”

“Music is a powerful force.”

“Delilah, will you please tell me your story one day?”

“Maybe, but right now—” They arrived at the tent. “You’ve got a whale of a story here.”

Through the translucent sunrise, Emery surveyed the tent from one end to the other. “Wha—what happened?” She was accosted by a most vile odor. Trash everywhere. Piles and piles. She started to wade in, but Delilah snatched her arm.

“You don’t know what’s in there.” She scanned the scene. “This i s going to change today’s plans, trust me. I’ll call Simon. You go wake Caleb.”

Emery ran all the way, stopping only to let a delivery truck ramble down Sea Blue Way. The street was dark and lonely with none of the beauty and charm of last night.

Cutting through the yards that butted up against Pelican Way, she landed on Caleb’s front porch and banged on his door.

“Wake up, wake up!” She rang the bell, then pounded with her fist. “Caleb!”

When she heard footsteps, she stepped back, finally taking a deep breath. When the door swung open, she went breathless again. Standing there with a rumpled, rolled-out-of-bed vibe, she completely forgot her mission.

He was shirtless, wearing baggy shorts, his hair shooting in every direction, and a night’s growth on his angular jaw. She wanted to smash into him, knock him back for a kiss or two.

“Em, what’s wrong?” Concern filled his blue eyes as he looked her up and down.

“The tent—” She pointed toward the beach. “Trashed, Caleb. Someone dumped truckloads of garbage under the tent.”

“They trashed the royal brunch?” He stepped onto the porch, gazing in that direction. “Are you kidding me? After my brilliant Chamber speech?”

“Maybe it stirred some old feelings, but there’s vile-smelling junk all over the beach, under the tents, covering that expensive floor we put down.”

“Trashing the brunch for the Crown Prince of Lauchtenland? Now that’s going too far. It’s political and social suicide. The State Department might even get involved.”

“You have to see it. Shoot, I’m surprised you can’t smell it. It’s like dead fish, rotten food, I don’t know what all, but we cannot let the prince and princess go there. Delilah’s calling Simon.”

“ Where was security?” Caleb jammed on a pair of sneakers sitting by the door and yanked on the hoodie hanging on a nearby hook. One step out of the house and his phone rang from inside. He hesitated, then dashed up the stairs. “I bet it’s Simon.”

The mayor woke up every town council member and even the city manager, demanding crews come and clean up the mess. Emery stood in the living room just inside the door, waiting, listening to Caleb’s half of the conversation.

“Simon’s fired up,” he said, dropping his phone in his pocket, then heading toward the beach. “He wants to know who did this.”

“We can figure that out tomorrow, but what are we going to do about today?” Emery jogged alongside him. “They haven’t even walked through the town, seen the rink, the mural, or Malachi Nickle’s sawmill.”

“We could move the brunch to the Skylight.”

“Which is exactly what Mac Diamond would like.”

“You think he did this?” Caleb stopped short. “Or Bobby? Some sort of delayed revenge?”

“All these years later?” she said. “Why? This ruins the whole visit. The town’s reputation.

There are national journalists all over the place.

Every person with a phone and a social media account is a reporter.

If those men want a thriving, progressing Sea Blue Beach, trashing a royal visit would not be the way to go. ”

When they arrived on scene, Simon was walking the tent parimeter, urgency in his movements. Kadasha was also on-site, taking pictures. That’s when it hit Emery.

The Royal Sunday Gazette was not going to be at all what she’d planned.

“Mac denies any knowledge of this. So does Brockton,” Simon said as he approached. “I’ve failed as mayor, allowing this level of animosity to fester.”

“What happened to security?” Emery said.

“ Chief Kelly’s working on that now, checking the few cameras we have. This much garbage had to come from a large vehicle or a lot of small ones. Any tracks in the sand were covered. We didn’t have security overnight.”

“What are we going to do for the brunch?” Emery said. “Go to the Skylight?”

“We’re not having a brunch.” Simon motioned to someone arriving in an ATV.

“The prince and princess left. Their protection detail saw the trash as a threat and made the call. Worried something more might happen throughout the day. Nothing says, ‘Go away, we don’t want you here’ like a mountain of a stinking sewage. ”

“They left?” Emery said. She had six pages waiting for a special royal edition. She’d sold ads.

“Wouldn’t you?” Caleb said.

“I’m the one who sent the invite.” Emery pressed her hand to her middle. “They’re going to think I’m behind this. That I wanted to go viral with a scandalous Gazette story. If it stinks, it leads.”

“No, Em.” Caleb stepped forward to survey the mess. “This is how they’ll remember all of us.”

“How can we apologize?” Emery tried to cast off her fear with the truth—this wasn’t her fault—but she kept circling back to guilt by association. “We can’t let them think we approve of this.”

“I communicated that to their security team,” Simon said. “But Caleb’s right. This will certainly leave a bad mark on Sea Blue Beach.”

“I’m going to the paper,” Emery said. “I have to email them. Hopefully, I’m not already blocked on the royal server. After that, I have to figure out how to fill six pages.” She saw Kadasha crossing the beach, camera raised.

Emery would have plenty of pictures. Just none of the ones she wanted.

CALEB

By late afternoon, city crews and volunteers had hauled off the trash, taken down the tent, and disassembled the portable floor and carted it away.

Standing where the reception should have been, he couldn’t get free from the stench, despite the stiff Gulf breeze and the warm April sun.

What was happening to his town?

To his right, the town council members were locked in conversation with Chief Kelly and Simon. The State Department was now involved, making sure there were no other threats toward the visiting dignitaries.

Reporters appeared, stringers for major news outlets, and started filing stories. “Live from Sea Blue Beach, Florida...” Which put Simon and the town further under the spotlight.

But Emery was right. The real threat to their reputation came from all the royal watchers milling around with their phones raised, recording the cleanup and posting on every social media app.

Directly in front of him, his parents chatted with Ivan and Adele, and behind them, kids from Nickle High’s football and basketball teams tossed Frisbees on the beach like today had been nothing more than a standard community-service project.

Caleb wanted to run in between each group, shouting, “This happened on our watch. What are we going to do about it?”

Yet he knew they wouldn’t share his passion. Except for Simon, who now had to play the politician.

He pulled out his phone to text Emery. Even though he’d worn gloves during cleanup, his hands felt dirty.

Caleb:

How’re you doing?

H e waited for a response, but when she didn’t reply, he slipped his phone into his pocket. She was busy. Maybe he’d pick up Tony’s Pizza for the Gazette staff later.

With nothing else to do, he thought to head home, but being inside felt claustrophobic.

Even worse, being inside alone. The house was stupidly quiet without Bentley dashing everywhere.

Caleb had grown fond of Bent’s footsteps thundering down the hall, then down the stairs.

Almost like he was making sure he was heard.

“Caleb?” Bobby Brockton walked through the sand toward him. “Got a sec?” He held up his palms. “It wasn’t me.”