Page 35 of Small Town Sizzle

As I watch Maya and some others gathering empty cups and plates, I appear at her side, holding a tray of untouched cupcakes.

“Thought you might want one,” I say, offering the tray.

“Thanks,” she replies, taking one and biting into it.

“You’ve got frosting on your nose.”

“Great,” she mutters, shaking her head.

“Maya, what another wonderful event,” Laura says as she hugs her tightly.

“Mom would have been tickled that the fog machine made an appearance,” Ethan interjects. “She also would have gotten a kick out of Garrett helping out.”

“Your kids have both been such a big help. Not sure what I would do without them,” Maya says.

“Well, you probably would have had more cupcakes without Chantelle and Jaz running snacks,” Mason teases.

“I may have also helped with that,” I add.

“I’m glad you came,” Laura says, as she reaches over and squeezes my arm. “Your mom would have loved you being here in the thick of it.”

I nod, not really knowing how to answer that.

“Thanks again for all your help,” Maya says.

“I like telling people what to do,” Mason jokes.

My family leaves. I walk around helping to pick things up while I watch Maya’s family leave, too. Now, it’s just the two of us left in the facility.

I watch as Maya sinks into a chair. She leans back and looks around the room with a smile on her face.

“Hey,” I say.

She jumps a little before glancing up at me. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”

“Thought I’d help if I could.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Not a problem.”

She gestures for me to sit down next to her.

“It was a good night,” she says after a moment, her voice quieter now. “Better than I hoped for. Your mom and Megs were the glue to this place; I hope that I’m doing them proud.”

“You are. It was great,” I say. “The kids loved it. So did the parents.”

Maya stands up and grabs a broom. She stops sweeping and leans on it, her eyes scanning the room like she’s taking it all in. “Greta would’ve loved it,” she says softly. “She had this amazing vision, you know? She wanted to give the kids something good—something to keep them out of trouble.”

I stand up and start cleaning up some of the empty cups and plates. After a second of quiet, I turn, watching her closely.

“She always said this place wasn’t just about the programs,” she continues, her voice dipping lower. “It was about making sure kids didn’t go down the wrong path. I remember someonesaying once that she started this because she had a troubled teen and thought something like this could’ve saved him. I always thought it was Ethan.”

“I didn’t know she was a part of this until I came back here.”

Her eyes flick to mine, searching. “Was it you? Were you the troubled teen?”

I freeze for a second. It’s not the first time someone’s asked, but it’s the first time I’ve cared what they thought about the answer. “Yeah,” I say finally, nodding. “It was me.”

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