“It’s so beautiful here,” she says, before I can pinpoint exactly what the feeling is. “When I was thinking about taking the job, I did a lot of research on the town and looked at all the pictures I could find. Let me tell you, the internet does not even come close to the real thing. I’ve been here a full one and a half days, and I’m already in love with this town: the atmosphere, the people, the shops, the old, judgy elders who stand outside of the general store.”

“Did you meet them today?”

“Not ‘meet’ per se, but I heard them talking about me as I walked in and out of the shops. They’re not really quiet.”

“That’s because they can’t hear each other. So they’re all talking extremely loud, especially the ones who don’t wear hearing aids. The one you really have to look out for is Mrs. Davenport. Sweet old lady, but packs a lot of punch when it comes to her ability to gossip. She’ll lure you in, ask you questions, and then strike when the iron is hot.”

Ren takes another bite of her whoopie-pie half, mine already consumed. “She sounds dangerous.”

“Very. Watch yourself around her.”

“Good to know. Anyone else I should steer clear of?”

I shake my head. “Nah. Ruth at the coffee shop is pretty cool if you’re looking for someone to hang out with. Her friend Rylee is usually in the coffee shop in the mornings. She’s a romance author who recently got married and adopted triplets with her husband, Beck. He’s still pretty new to town, if you need someone to commiserate with.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m still stuck on adopting triplets. That is a huge undertaking.”

“Not for them. They couldn’t have kids on their own, so it was a blessing for them.”

Ren makes a sweet sound of understanding just as she finishes her whoopie pie. “Ah, that’s amazing. Good for them.” Ren pauses for a second. “So do you know everyone in town and their backstories?”

I nod, staring out over the ocean. “Yeah. I grew up here with all the same people. Some have come, and some have gone, but when you live here for so long, you just add the new people to the community, to your second family.”

“A second family. I like that.” She tilts her head to the side, and I can feel her curious eyes on me. “How many people do you think already know about me?”

“Do you want the truth?” She nods, so I continue. “Probably everybody. Like I said, news travels fast. Sometimes it isn’t correct news, but in the end, it gets straightened out. You just have to let the initial excitement die down first.”

She nods slowly and stares out at the sunset sky with me, the world turning to a burnt orange color, casting a glow on the both of us.

“Have you ever thought about moving away?”

So many times.

After I lost Claire, there were countless days I had my bags packed and was ready to drive as far as I could, away from the painful memories until they started to fade. The first year after her death, I could have sworn I still saw her everywhere. In the window of the coffeehouse, in the back of the shop sneaking cookies, in our bedroom, waiting for me to get home.

Everywhere I looked, I saw Claire, and it was too painful to be in Port Snow, but every time I tried to leave, my family pulled me back in, convincing me that I still had my town and family to rely on. If I moved, they were worried I would bury myself in a hole and never come up for air.

They were right; that’s exactly what I would have done.

So with some encouragement and a lot of whoopie pies, I made it through the first year.

But I don’t want to get into that with Ren, so I lie. “Nah, how could I leave this place? It’s perfect, right?”

“Feels perfect,” she answers with a sigh. “I moved from Los Angeles, and let me tell you, I feel like I couldn’t have gotten out of there fast enough. It wasn’t the place for me. But Port Snow? I think I might just have a love affair with this town.” She turns toward me. “Are there any kind of groups or clubs I can get involved in? I still have some time before classes start, and I would love to meet more people, make friends.”

I scratch the back of my neck, thinking. “Uh, there aren’t a lot of clubs or anything like that here since most of us own businesses and spend all of our time in our shops. But you know, there is the restoration group.”

“Oh, what’s that?”

“It’s a little group I’m a part of. We go around and touch up all the buildings on Main once a month, making sure everything is as pristine as it can be. The town is known for its beauty, and we take a lot of pride in that, so we divide it up and spend one day a week going around cleaning our sections.”

“Ahh, so that’s how you keep everything so perfect. That’s really smart, and it sounds like fun. Who do I talk to if I want to join?”

“Uh, that would be me.”

“Really?” Her eyes widen. “So you run your parents’ shop, volunteer at the fire station, and run the beauty-restoration group? Is there anything else you do?”

“Maybe a few other things here and there, but nothing too big.”

“Well, you might as well run for mayor at this point.” When I don’t say anything, her mouth falls open. “If you say you’re the mayor, I’m going to have to leave right now.”

I laugh, my shoulders rising and falling. “No, I’m not the mayor; that’s a job I don’t ever want. The crap he has to deal with on a daily basis is annoying and petty. Not a fun job.”

“Sounds horrific.” A smile peeks past her lips. “Have you ever complained to the mayor?”

I laugh and don’t even try to mince my words. “Oh, plenty of times. I have no shame in it. When you want something done, you badger the mayor until it’s taken care of.”

“Oh, Griffin.” She shakes her head in mock disappointment. “And here I thought you were better than that.”

I chuckle quietly. “So are you all settled in the house?”

“For the most part. There are some things I desperately need from a department store in order to function, so I’ll call Bart tomorrow and have him take me to the nearest store that’s not an artisanal bakery.”

Brig’s comment about her borrowing my truck rings through my mind. “You know, if you need someone to drive you,” I blurt out, “I have to head up north to grab some stuff myself. You can always hitch a ride with me.”

“Really?” She brightens. “Are you sure I wouldn’t be imposing?”

Imposing? Yeah, there will be some imposing, but only because I’m beginning to crave this woman’s company, and that’s terrifying on many levels.

For one, I don’t want to be in a relationship or even consider the possibility. And two . . . no, I’m not going to let myself think about it.

Even though I want to retract my statement as quickly as it left me, I soldier on. “Not at all. I could show you around Pottsmouth.”

“Pottsmouth?”

“The town about twenty miles north that will have everything you need.”

“They couldn’t have picked a better name?”

I chuckle, turning back toward the ocean, a breezy feeling passing over me. “I think they ran out of names by the time they made it farther up north. Pottsmouth, Houndshead, and Coxachy are some of my favorites.”

“Coxachy? What is that even? Well, thank goodness we live in whimsical Port Snow, right?”

I lean toward her. “Originally named Duck Foot, Maine, until 1946, when it was voted to change to Port Snow.”

Her mouth falls open, humor playing at the corners of her eyes. “It was not named Duck Foot, Maine.”

I nod gravely. “Afraid so. Thankfully the mayor at the time saw its potential as a tourist town and pushed for a name change.”

“Sheesh.” She studies the ocean. “Port Snow is so much better.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

GRIFFIN

“Why are you rushing now?” Jen asks as I stack the twenties up and rubber band them together.

“I have to head up north, want to get it done as quickly as possible,” I half lie. Plus, I unthinkingly told Ren to meet me here so we could take off right when I finished work. I check the clock for what feels like the hundredth time; she should be here in five minutes.

“Ah, that’s why you drove your truck to work. I thought that was weird.”

“Yeah, just want to get up and back as quickly as possible. You know I hate going to Pottsmouth.”

True fact. I’m really a small-town type of guy and avoid larger cities as much as possible. Pottsmouth is a college town, full of traffic and hipsters.

There’s really nothing wrong with a hipster, but when they look at me with those judgmental eyes, as if to ask, Why haven’t you grown a beard? it puts me in a bad mood.

But for a tourist, Pottsmouth is another town to check off your list of places to visit. Rich with history, it’s been through its fair share of fires, crime, and social change. Known for its unique restaurants and bar tours, it’s crawling with people, and I avoid it like the plague, but it does boast the closest Walmart, which is what Ren needs.

I spent last night trying to think up things I needed to get from the store because, frankly, I don’t need anything; I was just being a nice guy. So I came up with a list of basic essentials.

I think I also put laundry basket on my list. I do need one of those. The handles on mine broke weeks ago. So at least the trip won’t be a complete loss.

“I’m surprised you’re actually going up there. You normally order things online before you drive up north.”

Isn’t that the truth.