Page 51 of The Maine Event

She nods enthusiastically, her mouth full of mini quiche. “This is amazing, Rachel! Best. Party. Ever.”

As if on cue, the boathouse door swings open, and Dan steps out, waving at everyone to join him.

“Come on, everyone.” Chloe shouts, “Dad’s got something to show you!”

The guests make their way down to the dock and join Dan at the boathouse.

I hang back, content to observe from the sidelines. This is Dan’s moment, and I don’t want to intrude. But as the crowd parts, his gaze finds mine, and he mouths a silent “Thank you.”

I nod and raise my glass to him.

Dan clears his throat, and the last few murmurs die down.

“Thank you all for coming,” he begins, his voice slightly hoarse with emotion. “I know it hasn’t been easy, with the flights and all, but it means the world to me—to us—that so many of you are here.”

He glances at Chloe, who leaves her friends and joins him, and I feel a lump form in my throat. The love between them is so strong, so pure.

“As some of you know, and probably most of you don’t,” Dan continues, “I’ve been working on a little project these past few months. Well, years really. It’s something that’s very close to my heart, and I’m excited to finally share it with you.”

Dan takes a deep breath, then steps aside, revealing a large white sheet. “Without further ado, I present to you… the boathouse.”

With a flourish, he yanks the sheet away, and there’s a collective gasp from the crowd. The interior of the boathouse is stunning, a perfect blend of rustic charm and modern elegance. The polished wooden beams inside gleam under the array of subtle uplights, and the soft red exterior seems to glow against the backdrop of the river.

I feel a swell of emotion as I take in the details—the nautical-themed decor, the large windows that offer an incredible view ofthe water. It’s clear that Dan has poured his heart and soul into this project, and the result is nothing short of spectacular.

As the guests surge forward to get a closer look, I let them pass, happy to hang back and let them have this moment with Dan and Chloe.

Chloe’s voice breaks through my thoughts, and I turn to see her standing beside me, her eyes shining with tears.

“It’s beautiful,” she says, her gaze fixed on the boathouse. “It’s like a little piece of Mom, right here with us.”

I nod, my own throat tightening with emotion. “Your dad did an amazing job,” I say softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Your mom would be so proud.”

Chloe leans into my touch, a watery smile spreading across her face. “I can’t believe how much work he’s done on it. I thought he’d just swept the floor and gave it a fresh coat of paint, but it’s like… it’s like he brought her back to life, just for a moment.

As I stand there with Chloe, watching as Dan shows the guests around the boathouse, I can’t help but feel a pang of longing. The love that Dan and Rebecca shared, the love that still shines through in every detail of this beautiful space… it’s the kind of love I’ve always dreamed of. For all the success I’ve achieved, for all the lives I’ve touched through my work, there’s still a hole in my heart that nothing seems to fill.

I mentally shake the thought away. This isn’t the time for self-pity. This is a time for celebration, for honoring the love that Dan and Rebecca shared, the love that lives on in Chloe.

I squeeze Chloe’s shoulder, giving her a warm smile. “Come on,” I say, nodding towards the boathouse. “Let’s go check it out.”

Together, we make our way towards the structure, the laughter and chatter of the guests washing over us like a warm breeze. And as we step inside, taking in the incredible details,the loving touches that Dan has poured into every nook and cranny, my breath catches.

The walls are adorned with photographs capturing cherished moments from his life with Rebecca, each one telling a story of love, laughter, and adventure. A worn leather jacket hangs on a hook, a testament to Rebecca’s free spirit, while a collection of seashells arranged on a shelf speaks of lazy afternoons spent combing the beach together.

The guests are equally enthralled, their voices a mixture of awe and nostalgia as they explore the space.

“Remember when Rebecca wore this to our college graduation?” one woman asks, pointing to a large-brimmed sunhat hanging on the wall. “She was the life of the party that day.”

“And look at this,” another guest chimes in, holding up a well-worn book. “Dan, wasn’t this the poetry collection you gave her on your first anniversary?”

Dan nods, a wistful smile playing on his lips. “She carried that book with her everywhere. Said it was like having a piece of me with her, no matter where she went.”

As I listen to the stories and memories being shared, I feel a sense of warmth spreading through my chest. It’s clear that Rebecca was more than just Dan’s wife—she was a beacon of light in the lives of everyone who knew her. And though she may be gone, her presence still lingers in every carefully chosen memento, every lovingly told tale.

I find myself drawn to a particular photograph, one that shows Dan and Rebecca on their wedding day. They’re gazing into each other’s eyes, their faces alight with the kind of joy that comes from knowing you’ve found your soulmate. It’s a look I’ve never seen on Dan’s face before. It suits him.

“They were so cute together, weren’t they?” Chloe says softly, coming to stand beside me.

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