And Elodie?
She was in the middle of it all. Barefoot in the grass, curls wild from the breeze, her laugh carrying farther than the music. She was leaning down to tie a child’s shoe, waving at a family she’d met ten minutes ago, smoothing a plaid tablecloth that refused to behave. Her flannel was too big—because it was mine. Her cheeks flushed pink from the chill.
And she was the most beautiful damn thing I’d ever seen. Barefoot and radiant, curls like wildfire, her laugh lifting above the music. She looked like chaos and comfort wrapped in plaid.
And she was mine.
I could’ve stayed back, just watched her in that golden hour glow like a fool—but I had things to do.
The new sign hung at the front gate, wood-grain lettering carved deep and clean:
Star Harbor Farm & The Drifted Spirit Inn
Est. (again) 2025
Two pieces finally made whole.
We’d closed on the land weeks ago. With JP’s help, Elodie had purchased the farm outright, but not just the farm and orchard or the cottage. With the historic easement in place, we were able to fold the Drifted Spirit and the acreage into one—just like it had been before time had torn it apart with lines and paperwork and poorly maintained recordkeeping.
Now it was whole again.
And so were we.
The big blue barn was under renovation, one wall already stripped to the studs, the scent of sawdust clinging to the air like possibility. Construction would pick up in the winter when the events slowed down, and by spring, it would be ready. Our restaurant. Her design. My food. Our dream.
I turned from the barn to help an elderly woman with her bag of apples—Elodie’s friend Sheila from bingo, who’d already threatened to steal one of our scarecrows—and walked her to her car. When I turned back around, I saw Elodie standing with Levi at the edge of the bustling pumpkin patch.
His hoodie sleeves were too long, and his sneakers weremuddy, but he looked lighter somehow. More settled. Taller.
I watched them talk. She bumped his shoulder, and he rolled his eyes in the exaggerated way that only a teenage boy could. Then she knelt and adjusted something on his boot—probably his laces—and whatever he said made her laugh. That belly-deep, messy laugh I never got tired of.
He looked older.
She looked like home.
They looked like they belonged to each other. Not in the way people say when there was shared blood—but in the way souls just know. Watching them, I had a lump in my throat and no idea what to do with it.
I made my way over just as Levi was biting into a cinnamon doughnut the size of his face.
“You have one?” he asked me, powdered sugar already dusting his hoodie.
I shook my head. “Waiting for the cider slush line to die down.”
Elodie grinned up at me, her face flushed. “You’re gonna be waiting forever. It’s chaos over there.”
“That’s what happens when your secret recipe gets out,” I said, nudging her.
Levi wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “You guys are gross.”
But there was a smile hiding in the corners of his mouth, and I caught the way he lingered when Elodie pulled him in for a hug.
“You sticking around for the bonfire?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Maybe. Or I might go hang at Hayes’s for a bit. Thought I’d give the two of you a break before someone makes me sing ‘Kumbaya’ or whatever.”
Elodie ruffled his curls, and he ducked away with a grin.
After he wandered off, she leaned into me. “He’s okay.”
