Page 52 of Songs of Summer

If he only knew.

On the way to the kitchen, Bea peeked out back, where, not surprisingly, the game had morphed from Ping-Pong to beer pong.

“You’re sure you want to help? It looks like you’re missing some fun out there.”

They peered outside to see Dylan and Matt hugging in victory.

“I’m sure,” Maggie responded, her cheeks burning. She touched her hand to one and then the other.

“Dylan and Matt are just old friends, you know,” Bea said, quickly catching on and looking at Maggie with empathy.

“Oh yes, I know. That doesn’t bother me,” she replied, though she wasn’t so sure. Dylan seemed so exotic to Maggie. Blond, sun-kissed, and able to leap giant waves in a single bound. She was probably happiest with sand between her toes, while Maggie would yell “First shower!” while still packing up her stuff on the beach.

Bea put her hand on Maggie’s shoulder, directing her toward the kitchen. Maggie fought the urge to ask her for a hug. After experiencing the hug from her grandfather, she was curious what her birth mother’s embrace would feel like.

Was she a hugger now?

“It’s hard to be the new one around here,” Bea offered. “From the little I’ve seen of you two, you’re a perfect match, like two halves of the same person.”

If lying to your mother was a rite of passage, Maggie realized that she’d accrued a lifetime’s worth in one long weekend. She felt bad about it.

“Thanks,” Maggie said, appreciating the compliment.

“Thank you. I could use the help since my sister disappeared. Surprise, surprise. Do you have siblings?” Bea added.

“Nope, only child.”

“Lucky you.”

“I’m not so sure about that. Both my parents are gone, so, you know.”

She wasn’t sure why she was telling Bea this. The whole conversation was so…meta.

“I’m sorry. My mom is gone too,” Bea commiserated, pulling off the fridge a handwritten list of everything she was serving that night.

“She taught me to do this when having a big party. She loved to entertain. I like doing things the way she did, makes me feel like she’s still here.”

A timer went off.

“Warm rolls,” Bea proclaimed, slipping on oven mitts, and pulling the pan from the oven. Maggie grabbed the basket from the table and lined it with a cloth napkin.

“I did the same thing with my mom. Especially at our store. I run the family business now that my parents are gone.”

“Right, the record store.”

“Maggie May Records.” Maggie’s face lit up when she said it. And then again when she witnessed her birth mother’s enthusiastic reaction.

“Wow, it’s named for you, how cool is that? I’ve always dreamed of owning a bookstore. I imagine the two are very similar.”

“Very. Lots of people browsing and sharing recommendations. Our local bookstore and my shop are the most popular attractions on Main Street—other than the Popcorn Shop, which sells candy and ice cream and drops that big New Year’s Eve ball we were talking about on the beach.”

“Hard to compete with popcorn, candy, and ice cream.”

“Exactly.”

Beatrix went to work stirring the huge pot of paella. She scooped up the perfect bite with her wooden spoon and blewon it. “Want to taste?” she asked Maggie, who signaled yes by opening wide.

It was delicious in every way. Maggie’s eyes teared up a bit, and she scrunched them tight as soon as she felt it. Too late.

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