It had been a strange kind of wonderful to be back, knowing this time it was for good.

After a night sleeping in her old bedroom, she’d bounced into her parents’ kitchen and declared it was time—time for Mom to take her to the fudge shop.

Lily’s fudge shop, if all went well.

Which it totally, one-hundred-percent would.

“I can’t believe it either. But you’re exactly what the place has needed.” Mom rubbed the joints of her hand, her eyes a little wistful as she looked over the shop. “This is so exciting.”

“And a little bit terrifying.” Okay,a lotbit terrifying. Here, there was so much history—over seventy years of it, since Great-Grandma and Great-Grandpa Hart had driven their Volkswagen van over on the ferry (before the vehicle ban) and decided that Jonathon Island would be the perfect place to start a business and raise a family.

It caused a little ache in Lily’s chest. How had her career brought her full circle, back to this tiny island and the fudge shop where she’d spent her entire childhood? She’d followed the legacy home, just like she’d always intended to do.

She only hoped she didn’t grind that legacy to dust.

“It’s good to be a little terrified. But you’re going to do great. You’re a Hart. This fudge shop is in your blood.”

“Thanks, Mom.” She rounded the long wooden counter—which ran parallel to the front door and was flanked by display cases on either side, creating a long U-shape that separated the workers from the lobby—and headed through the swinging door that led to the kitchen.

And here…here was where the real magic happened. It wasn’t large, by any means, but it was just right, with three more marble tables taking center stage. On the other side sat the dinged-up door of the walk-in refrigerator, the storage pantry to its right, the doorway leading to the back alley to its left. And along the right wall were the perfectly arranged kettles, thermometers, and everything else she’d need to create fudge day in and day out—dusty too, but brimming with history. Finally, on the left side of the kitchen sat the sink, dishwasher, and stovetop, followed by another door that led out to the shop’s small hallway, where hidden away from customers she’d find a small office, the storage room, and a bathroom.

This was going to be her home away from home once again.

“It’s like I never left.”

Mom squeezed her shoulder. “It will be—once it’s clean.”

“Subtle, Mom.” Squatting, Lily opened the cabinet under the sink and found a pair of bright pink cleaning gloves, still in the wrapper, two rolls of paper towels, and disinfecting spray. She hoisted her treasure to the old tiled countertop. “But cleaning is the least of my worries. For the rest, you’re here to help guide me if I need it, right?”

“Of course, though I don’t know what I could teach you that you didn’t learn in that fancy school of yours. I’ll bet you’re thrilled to finally put that important degree to great use.”

Lily froze.

Nearly groaned out loud.

Who knew that the little white lie she’d told about actually graduating with her bachelor’s—instead of failing out—would come back to bite her now?

Probably she should come clean. She eyed the cleaning supplies in front of her. The irony. “Mom…”

“Hold that thought.” Her mother approached the bulletin board hung on the wall beside the door and pointed to the calendar hanging there. She flipped it from May to July. “I meant to tell you, the second weekend of August, Dani Sullivan is planning a Main Street Festival. It’s a way to get tourists back and introduce all the new restaurant and shop owners—and what they have to offer—to the town. Do you think you can be up and running by then?”

Lily glanced at the calendar. “What’s that? Just under five weeks away?”

Mom nodded. “The festival is sort of a little teaser of what’s to come next season, when part of the Grand Hotel is reopened, and of course the season after that, when the hotel renovation and repair will be complete. We don’t know how long it will take for tourism to build back to the previous levels. So many moving parts—businesses, housing, employees. But if we can start small, build, if we can get people coming here for day trips, that’s a start.”

Restarting up the fudge shop didn’t feel like starting small. “Right.” Deep breath. Maybe a week of hard work and she’d have the place in order. “I think I should be operational well before then, so long as I can figure out financing for the start-up costs. I’ve got a little in savings, but I need to be smart with how much I spend right away.”

Probably she should have made an appointment with Mr. Michaelson at Great Lakes National Bank, but she’d been so busy.

Mom took up a cloth and indicated that Lily should follow her through the door to the front of the shop. “That’s something I’ve been meaning to talk with you about.” She started wiping down the counter and register that must be twenty years old. It might take ten cloths just to get through the dust, but Mom didn’t seem to mind.

Still. With her hands, she didn’t need to be doing the cleaning. Lily came up beside her and gently took the rag from her. “Oh yeah?”

Mom lifted her shoulders in a shrug and moved aside without a fuss. “Yes. Your father and I have been talking about it, and we want to contribute.”

“What? No. You guys basically just retired. You’re saving for a trip to Arizona in the fall. I’m not letting you?—”

“Letting us? Well, someone’s gotten a little big for her britches.” Mom’s eyes twinkled as she laughed.