Page 113 of Banter & Blushes

She should be able to go back to her simple life by Memorial Day. Picking up the phone, she scrolled until she found the number she was looking for. After several rings, an automated voicemail played in her ear.

“Okay, Gigi,” Caroline muttered. “Let me see if I can find Mabel.” Pressing Mabel’s number on her speed dial, a similar message came across the speaker.

With a loud groan, Caroline slammed her laptop shut, the screen going dark with a finality which echoed her frustration. She dashed to her bedroom, flinging open her closet doors and rifling through piles until she found her favorite pair of worn jeans and a cozy, oversized sweater. She knew exactly where to find the two troublemakers.

Stuffing her feet into a pair of sneakers, she grabbed her keys, and the clipboard cluttered with notes and doodles. As she stepped out the door, she chewed on the inside of her cheek, her mind racing, and headed toward The Holler & Fork.

CHAPTER 2

BECKETT

The diner buzzed like an old TV stuck between channels. Flickering between mid-afternoon lull and dinner rush, it was caught in a strange, timeless space where regulars lingered over fresh gossip and stale coffee and a random traveler from the interstate shuffled in to ogle the laminated menus and decided between waffles or the blue plate special for dinner.

Carter Beckett, or Beck, as he’d successfully rebranded himself since arriving in Bluebell Bay, sat in his usual booth by the window. Two eggs over-easy sat congealing next to wheat toast on a laminated glass plate. It was a quiet rebellion against the chaos he’d left behind.

He was a constant presence in the back booth of The Holler & Fork. Far enough away from the door and the Bingo Queens, as he liked to call them, but close enough to the sticky counter where Sandra could easily reach to refill his coffee cup as needed.

Beck’s body stretched out in the booth as if he owned the place. Fine grains of sand clung stubbornly to his arms and legs, a testament to a day spent on the beach. He thought his life was perfect. No alarm clocks, no boss. He could spend the entire day surfing if he wanted to. The water just needed to warm up first.

“Another cup, Beck?” Sandy leaned over the counter, one hand on her hip, her eyes sharp and knowing.

He tilted his head in consideration, squinting slightly, as he observed Sandy. The only server, she ran everything with sharp precision. Her hair was a mix ofsilver and white, pulled back in a neat bun. Fine lines etched her face, hinting at a life filled with stories and laughter. She moved with the careful grace of someone who’d spent decades balancing trays in a bustling diner.

“Think I’ll switch it up. Maybe try the decaf today, Sandy.”

“Living dangerously,” she said with a wink, moving from the counter as she turned to pick up the coffeepot.

The diner’s door creaked open, and two people hustled inside, followed by the brassy blare of a tuba from a nearby street performance. For a moment, the melody mingled with the clatter of dishes and the hum of conversation. Then, with a soft click, the door closed, sealing the music outside and returning the diner to its cozy, familiar clamor.

Beck’s gaze followed Sandy as she gracefully maneuvered between the tables, her apron pocket bulging with pens and order pads. She placed two menus on a neighboring table with a warm smile before making her way to him. Her footsteps were soft against the worn linoleum floor as she approached. “Thanks,” he murmured, watching her drop two small plastic creamers beside his cup with a practiced flick of her wrist.

Settling back, he let his eyes drift out the window, tracing the path of seagulls and the lapping waves in the distance. The ocean was right there, close and predictable. His life now, a far cry from the frenzied politics he’d once known. Just then, his vision was blocked as a familiar blur of pink zipped past, and a jolt of recognition caught him by surprise. The golf cart swung with reckless precision into the spot directly outside the window.

Beck’s eyebrows raised as he watched Caroline Hollis climb out, her clipboard held like a knight’s shield, and close the door to the impossibly pink contraption.

The Hollis Express, in all its glory, practically burned an outline into Beck’s retinas. Caroline’s dark hair was windblown, her steps determined, and her mouth set in a serious line he couldn’t help but find amusing.

“What’s her hurry?” Sandy said as she finished topping Beck’s cup, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

“Trying to save the world, one laminated brochure at a time,” Beck answered, eyes still on Caroline as she tucked a stray hair back into its perfect place behind her ear.

“She looks like she’s on a mission,” Sandy remarked, following his gaze.

“Imagine that,” he replied, pretending not to care. “Thought the Hollis Express wasn’t due here for a few more days.”

“Everyone’s betting on when she’ll crash and burn.”

“Sounds like a fun game.”

“More fun than you think. Gigi’s printing bingo cards. You in?”

Beck pushed his hair back, the sun-bleached strands flopping rebelliously into place. “I’ll think about it,” he said with a smirk.

“You know, she’ll save the town from boredom, at least.” Sandra gave him a knowing look. “Might even save you.”

Beck chuckled. “I’m beyond saving.” He watched as Caroline smoothed her sweater and marched toward the diner’s entrance.

The bell above the door jingled a cheerful welcome, nearly drowned out by the burst of conversation as Caroline entered. Her presence sent a fresh wave of chatter through The Holler & Fork regulars

---