Page 87 of Meet Me at the Fudge Shop

But maybe, if he reallywaswilling to defy his family’s expectations and be with Lily, he was more of a rebel than she’d thought.

I’m still in this if you are.

She dearly hoped so.

Lily shoved all negative thoughts away and laughed with Mia. “Guess we’ll see tonight.”

“I believe in you, Lil. Dani does too. She’s racing around here somewhere, but wanted me to tell you how proud she is of you. You’ve got this.”

Right. “Thank you.” At least she had plenty of pistachio, coffee toffee, and even maple bacon ice cream, along with her forty-five pounds of fudge.

All was not lost.

Sunshine warmed her face and filled her with the kind of nostalgic hope of a Norman Rockwell painting.

Colorful flags fluttered from the lampposts along the cobblestone street—which was closed off to all but foot traffic on either side of the long stretch—and the bustling atmosphere developed a buzz as all the vendors completed their displays and early arrivals began venturing through.

Cody dropped a stack of cardboard boxes behind the stand and surveyed her display.

“Oh, wow. You reallydon’thave a lot of fudge.”

She dumped another bag of ice into the bath her ice cream buckets sat in. “It’s okay. We’re due for a hot day, and everyone will be screamin’ for ice cream, right?”

Please, God, let it be true.

Either way, Lily had done her best. And maybe, just maybe, success was still at her fingertips.

* * *

If anyone looked upcadin the dictionary, Declan was certain his picture would be found.

Even though he’d left Lily with a plan, he still felt like he’d also left her hanging. Again.

But he’d also seen how close Dad had been to exploding. Hadn’t wanted to expose Lily to that. And his parents’ surprise appearance hadn’t given him time to figure out how best to express to them his true feelings for Lily. He wanted them to accept the relationship, but with the competition still going on, now wasn’t the time.

Still, walking away from Lily for the second time was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do.

And he hoped with everything in him that she understood.

Declan hefted another box onto his decorated table and placed the wrapped fudge onto his display. The Beach Boys sangDon’t Worry, Babyover a stereo system, the perfect song for the summer day vibe—and an ironic one too, given Declan’s currently spiraling thoughts. Lily’s booth was straight across from his, so bright that the sunlight caught the glittery surface of her banner and dutifully blinded everyone walking by.

Thankfully, his suggestion about the ice cream had paid off, because for hours now, she’d been bombarded with tourists, filling order after order and laughing.

It distracted him more than he should admit.

Isaac—who had shown up to help run the Martha’s on Main booth—had even had to call Declan out a few times, reminding him to tend to his own customers instead of staring across the way.

Of course, that had earned more than a few frowns from Mom, though she had yet to actually say anything about finding him and Lily so close this morning in the fudge shop kitchen. Surely, it was coming, but she too was focused on the Main Street Festival today, running back and forth between her kitchen and the booth to serve up mini meatloaves, turkey sandwiches, sweet potato fries, chili, and a variety of other items off a limited menu.

Declan had already seen so many townspeople and tourists come through, their arms loaded down with purchases from the antiques shop booth, from Mia’s small booth featuring her own paintings, from the maritime-themed booth run by Grace Marconi. Aunt Whitney had even helped Grandma walk through earlier, when it was much cooler out and not so crowded. She’d taken a sample of fudge, closed her eyes, smiled, and said, with tears in her eyes,Just the way my Barry and I used to make it.

Then she’d patted Declan’s cheek, told him how proud she was, and shuffled to Mom’s booth.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t let her down. He’d sold a lot of fudge, but Lily’d had a steady line throughout the day. The crowd had filtered through, winding among the vendor booths, making their way back after hitting the carnival-type games set up in Blueberry Hill Park, eating lunch beneath the trees in the park or at the picnic tables spaced throughout Main Street.

Despite the competition, it was thrilling to see people back on the island. It wasn’t as extravagant as past events, and there weren’t fireworks or a concert or any other things that had made past festivals great. But it was a start—a literal small spark. As construction continued on the Grand Hotel, with targeted recruiting, Jonathon Island really might return to that former glory.

A part of him didn’t want to miss that.

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