“The high school marching band played and you looked so regal. I remember thinking I wanted to be important too. Like you.” Cade shook his head. “I think somewhere along the way, that turned into thinking I had to literallybeyou—the ultimate Landry standard.”
“I never meant to create that kind of pressure.”
“I know. I didn’t blame you.” Cade wiped his thumb over the coffee spill on the cushion next to him. “You know, I liked helping Rosalyn with some legal issues the last few days. It felt…” He looked up at the ceiling, exhaled. “Rewarding.”
“There you go.” Dad slapped his thigh. “Maybe that’s your sign.”
“Maybe.” Cade rolled the concept around in his mind. Trying the bar again? But what would happen to the town?
He absently took another sip of coffee-colored water. Huge mistake. He set the mug on the end table. “I know I love Magnolia Bay. I don’t know how exactly I want to serve it down the road, but I know I want to. Just not as mayor.”
Dad nodded. “I’m sure there’s a way to make that happen. But there are a few things we need to clean up. Like canceling the campaign party.”
“Right.” More humiliation headed his way. But at least this time he could go into it knowing his father was on his side.
“Look, this was on me.” Dad scooted to the end of his chair and braced his arms on his knees. “I pushed you to run too soon, and on top of that, I railroaded you with the announcement before you were ready. So I’ll be the one to cancel everything.”
“No, Dad. I appreciate it, but I want to.” Cade pressed his lips together. “In fact, keep the party as planned. I’ll make the announcement there, so everyone can hear at the same time. At least they’ll get cupcakes out of it.”
Dad’s brow rose. “I respect that.” His voice softened. “And I hope you know I’m proud of you, whether you’re the town director, the mayor, or a street-sweeper.”
“Is that position available?” Cade joked, even as his throat swelled.Proud. The word sank in deep, like a balm. “Thanks, Dad.”
He swiped at his eyes. Man, he was tired. And still smelled like smoke. “By the way, I can’t believe Mom is letting me sit on this couch right now while I’m this dirty.”
“She’s getting a new one for her birthday.” Dad waved one hand through the air.
Cade snorted as he slid to the edge of the sofa. “Then I guess I can confess to that coffee spill I made.”
“Nah. We’ll keep that one between us. After thirty-five years of marriage—you pick your battles.” Dad winked. “I’ll tell her you’re leaving.”
They stood. Cade checked for a text from Rosalyn, even while knowing it wouldn’t be there. He did have several new emails, though they wouldn’t be from her. She technically hadn’t ever responded to the one he’d sent inviting her to perform at the circus.
Had that only been less than three months ago?
Cade gave the emails a quick scroll as he waited by the front door for his parents to return from the kitchen. Magnolia Days business, a digital receipt, two daily Bible verses he was behind on reading and—an alert from the bank?
He stopped. Blaine had attempted access in Rosalyn’s accounts two days ago, but the notice had gone to Cade’s spam account. A follow up email had made it to his inbox—along with another, whose subject title read “Thanks for Registering.”
Cade squinted as he read the fine print, heart thumping. Oh no. He’d created a new log-in, gotten back in. Already the numbers in the balance were lower than before. He had to tell Rosalyn, ASAP.
He kept scrolling through the fine print. Was that why Blaine had shown up suddenly at the festival yesterday? He must have tried access two days ago and came to see Rosalyn in person.
But why the rush?
Cade frowned. The flowers…the charm…the kiss. Blaine had obviously been trying to get on her good side. Again, why? To try to regain access? Rosalyn wouldn’t have granted it.
So how had Blaine gotten a new log-in?
Something wasn’t connecting.
His parents headed toward him from the kitchen, his mother’s voice pitching in protest. “I heard you earlier, Ted. You know we’ve been married thirty-sixyears this fall, not thirty-five.”
Dad shot Cade a wink, then smiled at his wife. “Honey, with you, it only feels like ten.”
She good-naturedly rolled her eyes. “Well, you’re still not going to get to sit on the new couch.”
“Yes, dear.” Dad pecked her on the cheek. “Always remember, Cade, when it comes to marriage—what’s yours is hers, and what’shersis hers.” He chuckled.
