The ocean looked drearier than Maya had first expected. She’d been here two days already, and every glance through the tall, curtained windows had caught her off guard as she watched the rolling, gray waves crashing against the rocky beach.

Back in Colorado, the advertisements she’d see for beach getaways and cruise ship vacations always showcased the ocean as a glimmering sapphire jewel. Apparently, the water here on the Oregon coast had missed the memo.

Thinking of Colorado, of home, sent a sharp lance of pain through her chest. She should be there right now, helping with the funeral, grieving with her family.

She glanced at the folded letter on her bedside table, already worn around the edges from how many times she’d opened it. The words felt embedded in her mind, there every time she closed her eyes or let her thoughts stray, yet she still felt the urge to open it up again and trace the words on the thin paper.

She should have left it at home.

Home. Where her mother she hadn’t seen in years was acting like they were fine, where everyone was giving her pointed looks and whispering behind her back… No, home could wait. It would wait. She just needed things to feel normal a little longer.

It was strange how words could suddenly just lose their meaning. Normal. Maya wasn’t sure that she knew what that word meant anymore or even how it was supposed to make her feel. What her normal life would transform into once she went back.

Grabbing her purse, she glanced in the wall mirror on her way out the door. There were dark circles under her eyes, standing out even more against her pale, tired-looking face, and her hair was limp and in desperate need of a good washing. Not exactly peak presentability, but it was the third morning of this trip and Maya was determined to at least leave her room.

She managed to slip from the bed and breakfast without running into Mrs. Hansen, the overly chatty but well-meaning owner. Outside, it was sunny but not hot, the breeze from the ocean keeping the air cool. It smelled like salt and sand and something fried from down the street, a not unpleasant mixture.

Wayland Beach was a small town on the Ocean coast, advertised as “quaint” and “picturesque” to those like Maya who entered the getaway raffle. It promised a retreat from the city bustle, a place for a peaceful vacation. Out in the light of day, it looked a bit dull and faded but still charming in the way that small coastal towns always seemed to be.

The main street was lined with shops and restaurants, colorful banners and flags whipping in the wind. Seagulls cawed overhead as Maya crossed over to the other side, a man in a blue car stopping at the crosswalk and waving her ahead. It was busier out than she’d expected, but admittedly, there was something satisfying about seeing such packed sidewalks in a small town. She’d always daydreamed about opening her own business, being her own boss, but the fear of failing always managed to halt that dream in its tracks. This was a town full of people braver than her.

A little cafe down the street caught her eye. She hadn’t left with much more of a plan than just getting out of her room, but a cup of coffee was always a good place to start.

A bell jingled above the door as she entered, immediately greeted by the smell of coffee and that sticky, fried smell that always haunted these places. It was crowded and Maya lingered at the door uncertainly for a second, taking in the low chatter and filled tables.

It reminded her of the one that her grandma liked to take her to for old school milkshakes on Fridays after school when she was a kid, and a pang of sadness went through her.

“There’s a seat there at the end,” a passing waitress told her kindly, pointing past a family with a whole group of children. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“Thanks.” Glad for some direction, Maya made her way by the family and to the empty booth. Her seat was red vinyl and slightly tacky against the back of her bare legs, the laminate tabletop worn but clean. The menu was tucked behind the napkin dispenser, proudly proclaiming the cafe as having “the best blackberry pie in the PNW.”

In front of her, one of the children in the other booth turned around and stared at her with wide, wondering eyes, giving a shy smile that showed off his missing tooth. Maya waved awkwardly, then pulled out her phone so she had an excuse to look away. Kids made her nervous and they always seemed drawn to her, probably because of her big curly hair.

She had several missed texts and calls from her mom. The sight of them was so familiar at this point, she could almost pretend it didn’t make her stomach twist with anxiety. Dismissing the notifications, she tucked her phone away.

“Welcome in!” The waitress who pointed her to her table appeared next to her, her dark hair in a single braid hanging over her shoulder, her pink lipstick slightly smeared in the corner. “How are you today? Sorry for the crowd, we usually get a bit of a breakfast rush on the weekends.”

“No worries.” Maya’s second job had been a hostess in a restaurant, she wasn’t bothered by the bustle. “I’d just like a cup of coffee when you get a minute, please.”

The waitress scribbled down her simple order and was back a minute later with steaming coffee in a plain, white mug.

“Are you visiting for the day?” she asked Maya as she set down the mug, then a small spoon, and pulled out a handful of sugar packets to refill the near-empty holder on the table.

It was an innocent enough question, nothing more than friendly conversation, but Maya felt an automatic defensiveness rise in her. Her family had given her such a hard time for even considering coming once she’d gotten the news she’d won that she’d had to sneak out of her own home in the middle of the night to drive to the airport. They were so determined to keep her there; it was ironic that getting away from them had been the thing that made her pack her bags and sneak out the door.

Her grandma had been the one who encouraged her to enter the raffle, and she would have hated if Maya had turned it down.

“I’m actually staying over at the bed and breakfast on the corner for the week,” Maya replied. “I won a trip here in a raffle.”

“Oh, wow, congratulations. Mrs. Hansen likes to do that occasionally; she says it adds a little excitement to get visitors from across the country.” She offered Maya another kind smile as she straightened. “How do you like town so far?”

“I haven’t seen much of it yet,” Maya admitted. “I’m not quite sure where to start.”

The waitress thought for a second. “It’s supposed to warm up later this afternoon. If you’re looking for something to do, there’s an ice cream shop down the street with seats that overlook the beach and a bookstore just down from that if you need a beach read. You can also find agates on the beach so keep an eye out if you head down by the water.”

That all did sound very nice, though Maya had no clue what an agate was. “Thanks for the recommendations.”

Taking that as her cue to leave, the waitress nodded, put down the check, and moved on to the next table.

Maya sipped her coffee, trying to relax the knot of tension twisted between her shoulder blades. This vacation was supposed to be about her basking in some kind of normalcy before she had to answer those missed texts and face the real world. She had come to get away from it all, which was, of course, easier said than done.

That damn letter was still waiting for her back in her room.

She had never wished for a way to just turn her brain off more than she did right now.

Maybe the waitress had been onto something with her suggestions—for someone who had never been to a real beach or seen the ocean, Maya couldn’t ask for a better distraction.

She finished her coffee, left some money plus a tip on the table with the check, and avoided the curious gaze of the children as she scooted by their booth and out of the cafe. Back out on the street, she took her chances and headed deeper into the town in hopes of finding the bookstore. It was too early for ice cream, but this was a small town; she could always walk back for some if it warmed up later.

The bookstore only ended up being two streets down, its painted wooden sign swinging above the doorway. Noble Books was the name, according to the slightly medieval-looking font scrawled across the sign.

Inside, she was immediately reminded of why she loved bookstores so much and why they always ended up on her list of places to visit when she was indulging in a little self-care. Everything about the store was homey and cozy in the best way. Sure, the overstuffed armchair in the front corner looked a little worn, and yeah, maybe the hardwood floor was a little scuffed up and in need of a polish, but those things just added to the charm and authenticity. It gave the store character, her grandma would have said.

“Welcome in,” a deep voice called, followed a second later by a tall man in a gray plaid flannel. He gave her a smile that was tinged with a tiredness that only felt enhanced by his slight scruff and lopsided rolled-up sleeves. “Let me know if you have any questions.”

“Thanks, I will.”

He gave her a nod and vanished back around the bookshelves.

There was a display in the front with new releases, their glossy hardcovers in stark contrast to the worn wood of the counter. But Maya was more of a mystery lover, one of those people who watched every true-crime documentary the weekend it came out, so she headed for the mystery section. The shop stretched back surprisingly far, genre signs leading her down a wide walkway lined with bookcases and displays.

The mystery section was impressively packed and for what felt like the first time in days, Maya felt a little, excited smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

She was deep down the mystery rabbit hole, several books tucked in the crook of her arm and several more stacked in a chair beside her when a sound behind her made her jump.

“Sorry, sorry.” The man who had welcomed her in smiled apologetically, the corners of his brown eyes crinkling slightly. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Do you mind if I—?” He gestured to the shelves and she saw the stack of books in his arms.

“Oh, no, of course not.” She shifted to make room for him. “Let me know if I’m in your way.”

They stood in silence for a minute as he shelved the books and she pretended to study the ones she’d picked out. She always hated situations like this, where she felt like she needed to fill the silence and make some polite small talk, while also fretting that doing so would be annoying.

Thankfully, he made the decision for her.

“Find something good?” he asked, glancing at the stack in her hands.

“Too many good things.”

He chuckled in understanding. “I always have the same issue with mystery novels. How am I supposed to narrow down the best ones before I know the ending?”

Maya knew what he meant—the ending was always the most important part of a good mystery.

“Anyway,” he continued, “no pressure but I’m happy to give you a bundle discount if you buy a few. As someone who understands the struggle.”

His tone was teasing but the offer was sincere.

“Oh, thank you. That might help me be less annoyed with myself later when I have to lug a suitcase of books through the airport.” That reminded her of the time her grandma gifted her a tablet so she could download as many books as she wanted for trips without having to worry about actually transporting them. She swallowed heavily around the lump in her throat.

“Are you just here for a visit then?”

She nodded, shifting to face him more fully. “I’m here for a week. Well, five days now. It’s actually my first time ever visiting the coast.”

The man grinned in a surprised sort of way. “You must be from one of those middle states where everything is flat and yellow. Is the ocean everything you expected?”

Maya laughed. “Colorado, actually. So, try mountainy and snowy. And, the ocean, well…” She hesitated, not wanting to offend.

“Too gray?” he asked knowingly.

“Too gray,” she confirmed with a self-conscious smile.

That didn’t seem to remotely bother him. “It will grow on you,” he told her confidently. “It has a way of doing that.”

Strangely, she believed him. Part of her was eager to take a book down to the beach and dip her toes in the water and feel the sand between her toes. And even look for agates, whatever those were. She should probably look that up at some point.

“I’m Henry, by the way. Henry Noble.” He shifted his stack of books to one hand and offered her his other.

She shook it. “Maya, Maya Clarke. Is this your store then?”

“It is, now. My grandparents opened it then passed it onto my dad who passed it onto me a few years back.”

A true family business then. And from the sounds of it, a piece of local history for Wayland Beach.

“That’s really cool,” she told him honestly. “I always wanted to work at a bookstore as a teen, it was this sort of…cozy fantasy I had. Probably good it never happened or my paychecks wouldn’t have made it past the front door.”

Henry had a nice smile, slow and warm and reaching all the way up to his eyes. “It does get cozy here in the winter. More than a few locals will grab a coffee and come curl up in a chair with a book and spend a rainy afternoon here. But really, working here is just a lot of heavy lifting, dusty pages, and never having enough room.”

“Sounds like the daily struggle of a bookworm.”

“Oh, it’s a daily struggle, that’s for sure.”

A laugh bubbled up in Maya’s chest. If she wasn’t mistaken, there was a slightly flirtatious energy thrumming between them. If it had been a week ago, she would have tried to gather her courage and roll with it. And as cute as Henry Noble was, with his dark hair curling behind his ears and his easy smile and broad shoulders, it wasn’t the right time.

She swallowed down the laugh, tucked away her smile, and turned away to pick up her other stack of books from the chair. “Well, I think I’m good to go. Would you mind ringing me up?”

If he was disappointed or surprised by her sudden end of the conversation, he didn’t show it. He even gave her a bundle discount at the register and a free bookmark with a painting of the bookstore by a local artist on it.

“It was nice to meet you,” Maya told him as he handed over her receipt. “And thank you again. If I ever come back to Wayland Beach, this will be one of my first stops.”

Something shifted in his face and his smile faded. But he was silent as he passed her the bag of books.

“Thanks for stopping in,” he finally said stiffly. “Enjoy your books.”

And that was that. Back out on the sidewalk, Maya paused, giving Noble Books one last look before turning into the ocean breeze and walking away.

~*~

 

Two days later and Maya had to admit that Henry Noble had been right—the dreary gray ocean really did grow on you.

It was beautiful in a different sort of way, and she found herself falling more and more in love with it as the days went by. The water, the sand, the rocks, the green trees that lined the coast, and the town of Wayland Beach itself. She felt like she could spend a whole lifetime here, tucked away on the beach with her nose in a book and the sand beneath her feet.

“Back to the beach today?” Mrs. Hansen asked as she refilled Maya’s coffee and brought her another plate of toast. There were a few people sitting around the dining room for the breakfast hour, but it was quiet and peaceful.

“I think so. I was going to finish my book and grab lunch from that sandwich place.”

Mrs. Hansen nodded approvingly, her blonde bun bobbing along. “You can’t go wrong with their roast beef. And be sure to order one of their homemade pickles.”

She had made it clear that she was a fan of all things pickled, serving meals with her own pickled beets and carrots and cucumbers. Maya wasn’t a big fan of anything with vinegar, but she wasn’t about to tell Mrs. Hansen that.

“I’ll do that,” Maya lied, slathering some jam on her toast.

It was hard to not imagine her grandma across the table from her, politely coughing into her napkin to hide her laughter. Her eyes always looked extra blue when she was amused.

The sound of the bell at the front desk pulled Mrs. Hansen away and Maya took the opportunity to scarf down the last few bites of her toast and drain her coffee. If she wanted to make it to the beach sometime this morning, she needed to leave before Mrs. Hansen came back to talk more pickling.

She stacked her plate and mug, tucking her napkin neatly between then, grabbed her purse, and made her way out of the dining room. As she rounded the corner of the hallway that led to the front desk and entryway, she nearly ran into someone.

“Oh, sorry, I wasn’t—Henry?”

It was none other than Henry Noble with a box of books in his arms, wearing plaid in navy blue this time and his previous shadow of scruff looking a little more pronounced. Despite his sudden coldness the last time she saw him, he looked pleased to see her.

“Maya, from Colorado, right? Nice to see you again.”

“Yeah, you too. Are you making a delivery?”

They both glanced down at the box of books and surprisingly, he grimaced.

“Of sorts. Jennifer—Mrs. Hansen, I mean, she’s an old family friend. I’m donating these to the bed and breakfast library.”

The “library,” as Mrs. Hansen had introduced it as, was actually the corner of an upstairs room with two armchairs and a single shelf stuffed with books. There was a reason Maya had gone to the bookstore on her first day out.

“That’s really nice of you.” Maya peeked to make sure the front desk was empty and lowered her voice. “Between you and me, it’s in desperate need of some variety.”

He laughed. “Jennifer is a big fan of her historical romances. While I can’t fault her taste, I can at least try to help out anyone who stays here and doesn’t want to read about men in armor or kilts.”

“Come on, who doesn’t love a man in plaid?” Maya teased, then immediately felt her face turn hot when her eyes fell on his shirt again.

Idiot. Did that count as a Freudian slip?

Henry gave her one of his slow smiles that made it very clear he hadn’t missed it. But, mercifully, he didn’t comment. He just shifted the box in his arms, adjusting his grip.

“Oh, sorry! Let me get out of your way.”

“No, not at all, I just have a bunch of these to take up—”

In the entryway was a stack of boxes almost as tall as Maya was.

“Wow, that’s…way more books than will fit on her one shelf.” And extremely generous for a small business to donate.

Henry shrugged. “She said she’d find room. Maybe she’s got another bookcase hanging around somewhere.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Maya turned back to the stack of boxes and adjusted her purse so it was slung across her body. “Let me help you take a few of these up.”

“You don’t have to—”

She cut off his protests. “I don’t mind, I could use the exercise after I just ate my weight in buttered toast.”

That earned her a smile and he didn’t argue as she grabbed the box from the top of the stack. It was heavy, but not so heavy she wouldn’t be able to make it up the flight of stairs.

Henry led the way and she definitely didn’t check out his blue jeans butt on the way up. Nope, not at all. Not even for just a second before she caught herself.

And if she did, she was only human.

The door to the room was propped open and Henry set his box down next to the already stuffed shelf, then gestured for her to do the same. Maybe after she got back from the beach, Maya would offer to help Mrs. Hansen reorganize because, to be totally honest, the whole corner was looking a little rough.

“Are you, uh, doing a store cleanout or something?” Maya asked curiously. “Not that you can’t give books away, that’s just…a lot of books.”

Ugh, she sounded so nosy. But it felt like Henry had a shadow hanging over him today, visible in the dark circles under his eyes and the droop of his shoulders. He looked tired and maybe a little defeated.

He sighed, a weary sound from somewhere deep in his chest, and turned so his back was to her as he fiddled with the flaps of the top cardboard box. “I’m closing the store.”

There was true grief in his voice, recognizable enough that Maya felt her own breath catch.

“We just…haven’t been making enough profit to keep afloat,” he continued. “In the age of e-books, it’s just…it’s not happening. Maybe if the shop was in a bigger city or if I had the money to fix the place up and get some new things going for it. It doesn’t matter though, it’s over.”

Maya didn’t know what to say. He’d made it clear how much he loved the shop when she’d gone in, pride and genuine care in his voice when he’d spoken about the family business. What did you say to someone who was losing something so precious to them?

These past few weeks, she’d heard it all. Countless comments about thoughts and prayers, people giving their condolences and apologizing like they had some sort of control over death or her grief. And although Henry wasn’t losing a family member, he was losing something that still took up space in his heart.

She’d learned in the last few weeks how little words actually meant. How little they truly helped.

But she told him, “I’m so sorry.” And she meant it.

“Eh, it’s fine,” he said, waving away her words and finally turning to face her, shoulders stiff. “I’m just glad you got to come in before I had to close the doors. It was nice to have someone new appreciate the place.”

“I really did. It seems like a special place.”

“It is,” he agreed. “But at the end of the day, it’s always money that matters the most, right?”

Before leaving her room today, Maya had tucked the letter into her pants. She’d thought maybe she’d read it down on the beach and try again to make sense of the words. Now, it was burning a hole in her pocket.

Henry was right—it always came down to the money. That was all most people cared about. Her mother this past week was living proof of that.

Maya felt sick.

Her silence stretched on a little too long and Henry shifted from foot to foot. “Well, I’d better go grab the rest of those boxes. Thanks for the help.”

He left the room and she felt her eyes lingering where he disappeared into the hall. She should follow him down and help with the rest. She should catch him on the stairs and offer more words of comfort.

Instead, she went back to her room, tossing her purse by her shoes and sat down on the bed to read the letter once again.

~*~

 

The next evening, Maya found herself outside of Noble Books again.

She was leaving in the morning and found herself wandering through the streets, surprisingly sad to be leaving. In the week she’d spent here, the faded little town had taken hold of her heart. Something about this place made her feel settled, content for the first time in weeks, like the salty ocean breeze blew away the stress that had been pressing down on her, a constant, relentless weight.

She didn’t want to go home. Not just because the thought of the looming funeral made her stomach churn, or because her mother, who hadn’t spoken to her in years, was going to be acting like they had a close, loving relationship.

She didn’t want to go home simply because she would miss Wayland Beach.

And she wished more than anything that she could go back in time and come here with her grandma.

Henry was at the front counter when she entered the shop, speaking with a woman who looked like she was pushing seventy. Her hair was pure silvery-gray, her face creased and wrinkled, and her turtleneck sweater the color of fresh pumpkin.

“Hi.” Maya gave a little wave that she just knew looked awkward.

Henry’s eyebrows came together in confusion or concern. “Maya, what are you—” He glanced down at the woman next to him. “I mean, welcome in. Of course, sorry, hi.”

“I just wanted to come get some books for the trip home,” she hurried to explain, even though he hadn’t asked.

It was true, but she’s also felt bad about how they’d left things the day before. About how she left things. After she’d read the letter again, the sour guilt in her stomach only grew.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said softly, seeing right through her flimsy excuse.

The woman next to him cleared her throat.

“Oh, Maya, this is my grandma, Louisa. She’s the one who opened the bookstore. Grandma, this is Maya, from Colorado. She’s visiting from out of town, obviously.”

Maya nodded and took the woman’s outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you. The store is absolutely beautiful.”

Louisa smiled. “Thank you. My husband, Henry’s grandfather, worked hard to make my dream come true. Most of the woodwork in here—the floors, the counters, the shelves—he made by himself. He was always so good with his hands, but this shop…it was a labor of love, to be sure.”

Looking around with new appreciation, Maya said, “he did a wonderful job. You must have been so proud when you opened it up.”

“Oh yes, I was. Aside from my children, and their children” —she gave Henry a fond smile— “opening this store was my proudest accomplishment. A lot of people didn’t think we’d make it, you know. It doesn’t feel like that long ago but a woman running a business was still rare and this has always been a small town. People had their doubts and I was more than happy to prove them wrong.”

She knew the store was closing, Maya could hear it in her voice. Could see it in the way she caressed the worn countertop.

Henry’s face was blank, arms crossed tightly across his chest like he was trying to forcibly hold back what he was feeling.

“Well,” Louisa said suddenly, “thank you for letting an old woman reminisce for a minute. Henry, I’ll bring that paperwork over in the next day or two. Call if you think of anything else you need.”

She gave Maya another warm smile and slowly made her way around the counter and out the front door, her hand lingering on the knob before closing it behind her.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted—”

“No, no, you didn’t.” Henry shook his head but didn’t uncross his arms. “I’m glad you came in. She’s having a hard time and I…well, there’s not much I can say.”

Maya knew the feeling.

“I can barely even look at her,” he admitted. “And she’s not even acting angry, which is almost worse. I think she’s just…quietly disappointed. Heartbroken, in mourning maybe. Her dream, her business, it’s being taken away because I couldn’t handle it. All the history and the memories here…what could I even say to make that better?”

Nothing. There was nothing.

She took a deep breath and found surprising words followed. “I actually—my grandma passed away last week. We were really close and suddenly, my entire family was looking to me to plan the funeral, to help move her stuff, to know what to say to all the phone calls and messages. I struggled with this horrible feeling that despite spending every minute for days trying to take care of everything, I wasn’t doing enough. That I was messing it up and letting everyone down. And I found myself thinking that my grandma would be so disappointed in me. Not just because I wasn’t doing enough, but because I’d never done enough. That ate me up inside, you know?”

Maya swallowed heavily around the lump in her throat. “And then I was thinking about the real her. Not the one that grief had created in my mind, but the real woman who loved and cared for me. Who always encouraged me to be brave and take chances and search for things in my life that brought me true joy. And I knew that she wouldn’t be disappointed in me now, and she never had been. No matter how many stupid mistakes I made, no matter how many opportunities I didn’t take for whatever reason…she just wanted me to be happy.”

Henry was silent and Maya cleared her throat, cheeks hot from her emotional ramble. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—I’m not trying to make this about me, I swear. I just…I know I’m some random girl who knows nothing about your life or your family, but I would be willing to bet that your grandma isn’t looking at you the way you think she is. Losing the space doesn’t erase the memories or the emotions behind them. And she said it herself…you’re more important to her than any business.”

He wasn’t looking at her and Maya was pretty sure she’d crossed some line, feeling stupid for even coming here again and thinking—what? What had she even been thinking?

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—” she started.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Maya stared at him for a long second. “What?”

“I’m closing up in” —he checked his phone— “six minutes and there’s a bar two blocks down. You said you’re leaving tomorrow so…can I buy you a drink?”

Was this a pity drink? Because she had to get all personal and talk about her deceased grandma? More importantly, did she really care?

“Yeah,” she said. “I’d like that.”

 

~*~

 

They stayed at the bar longer than Maya expected. But the drinks were good and the company even better.

Henry Noble was charming in an earnest, sincere sort of way. When she spoke, she could tell that he was actually listening to her, his attention almost too intense. When she spoke with the people in her life, there was always this sense that they were just waiting for their chance to talk. That’s what conversations in her life had become, the expectation she had for them. A series of generic questions about how she was doing, what was going on in her life, all intended as the opening to talk about themselves.

That was not the case with Henry, and it was flattering and maybe slightly unnerving.

It was only when Maya bothered to check the time and saw how late it was that she had to call it quits. She found herself wishing she could have just one more night of this, and let herself savor the delightful normalcy of getting cheap drinks at a bar with a guy, that nervous thrill twisting in her stomach every time their eyes met.

Instead, her phone had been buzzing in her pocket all night as her mom sent text after text, a constant reminder that she was on limited time.

He offered to walk her back to the bed and breakfast, which she accepted. She wasn’t drunk enough to not find her way back, just a nice, warm tipsy, but she was leaving in the morning and there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with enjoying a few more minutes of his company.

“Are you excited to be going home?” Henry asked as they made their way down the streetlamp lit sidewalk, his mind in the same place as hers.

“No,” she answered honestly. “Not even a bit.”

He gave her a sideways glance. “I didn’t say it before but I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It’s okay,” she sighed. “I mean, it’s not. It’s…it’s not, but thank you.”

Losing the most important person in her life would never be okay. And most days this past week, Maya had been afraid that the big, empty, hollow hole that had been ripped open in her chest was going to swallow her up. Grief, she’d learned, was a hungry, insatiable thing.

Just for tonight though, and if she was being honest, these last few days spent on the beach, staring at the gray, dreary, beautiful water, the hole had felt maybe just a little bit smaller.

They made it to the bed and breakfast, the front door bathed in yellow light as moths fluttered around the bulb above the porch. Maya could hear the little beating of their wings against the glass.

“Well…if you’re even in town again…”

Maya smiled at Henry as he let the sentence hang in the space between them. Space that she closed with a step.

He kissed her softly, the sound of the desperate moth wings and her pulse beating in her ears. It felt like a hello and a goodbye, sweet and bittersweet against her lips.

When they separated, Henry gifted her one more of his smiles, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Have a safe flight, Maya Clarke from Colorado.”

She watched him walk away until he disappeared around the corner.

Inside her room, Maya shrugged out of her coat and emptied her pockets, setting the letter carefully on her bedside table. She laid in bed, her phone on her chest, and wished she could call her grandma.

She already knew what she’d say, though.

Instead, after a week of ignored calls and unopened messages, she found herself clicking on her mom’s name.

She answered after three rings. “Maya? Why are you calling so late? Is everything okay?”

Ah, she’d forgotten about the time difference.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I just…I wanted to let you know that I’ll be flying back tomorrow.”

“Thank God, everyone has been worried sick about you. I don’t know why you bothered to run away on that stupid trip anyway, especially right now—” Her mom cut herself off. “Just let me know when you’re landing and I can pick you up. The funeral is supposed to be next week and we haven’t been able to do much without you.”

Maya hugged a pillow to her chest. “I don’t need to be picked up and I already told you, I’m not going to help with the funeral anymore. Grandma didn’t want that. She wanted to be cremated and she hated depressing funerals. You know she did.”

“She was my mother and I—”

“You hadn’t even seen her for the last thirteen years!” Maya ground her teeth, hating the way this conversation always made something ugly and bitter rear its head inside of her. “Listen, I told you…you can do what you want but I’m not going to support it. You’re going against her direct wishes and I won’t be a part of it.”

There was a beat of silence. “Is this about the money?” her mom asked lowly. “Is this because I asked you to pay for the funeral costs? I know I didn’t raise you to be—”

Maya laughed. “Exactly, mom, you didn’t raise me. Grandma did, and I won’t do this to her. You know it’s not the money and don’t you dare pretend like it is.”

Her eyes strayed over to the letter.

There was a little burst of static as her mom sighed, her tone switching over to saccharine sweet. “Actually, honey, we didn’t really get a chance to talk before you left. About the money.”

Here it was. Maya had known her mom’s hints and pointed comments were just the entrance to this conversation. She’d planned out what she was going to say multiple times but now she couldn’t seem to remember any of it.

“The thing is,” her mom continued, “I think she was confused before she passed. Now, I’ve been talking to her doctors about the possibility of dementia, and they—”

“She didn’t have dementia and she wasn’t confused. Her lawyer and her wishes were more than clear.” Maya rubbed at her eyes, wishing she didn’t have to do this. “You know that I never knew. I had no clue. But…you abandoned us. Me and her. What did you think she was going to leave you? I’m not saying it’s fair but it’s what she wanted.”

“I’m sure that’s very easy for you to say,” her mom responded tightly. “But think about how I feel. I’m her daughter, for Christ’s sake.”

She had always been a selfish woman. When Maya was seven, she left her with her grandma for the weekend and never came back for her, not really. She came around for some holidays and birthdays, but after a while, those turned into phone calls and then into texts. Maya had never really known her mom, aside from a familiar-looking woman with a slew of boyfriends tagging along behind her, and a tan from their latest spur of the moment vacation abroad.

“I’m not going to talk about it anymore.” Maya could hear how tired she sounded and she regretted even making the call. “I’ll let you know when I’m home tomorrow.”

She hung up before her mom could say anything, try to guilt her or weasel her way back into Maya’s good graces now that it benefited her.

Maya fell asleep staring at the letter on her side table until her eyes burned, her grandma’s voice in her ear.

You need to learn to take chances, Maya. Fortune favors the bold, remember that.

~*~

 

In the morning, Maya wasn’t surprised to see several texts from her mom waiting for her. She didn’t bother reading them, already knowing what they’d say.

She needed to pack her things, but she didn’t. Her flight wasn’t going to wait for her, she knew that. Still, she sat on the edge of her bed and didn’t move.

Maya had never believed in fate. Her grandma did. Fate, luck, chance, all of it. She was a firm believer in seizing the moment and taking that leap of faith. Despite being raised by her, Maya never managed to capture her fearlessness.

There had just…always been an excuse. Not enough money, not enough time. People waiting for her, work counting on her. She had none of those excuses now, just a letter that had changed her life, an upcoming funeral that she knew she wasn’t going to attend, and a mom who had never given a damn about her.

She threw on her sweatshirt over her tank top she’d slept in and slipped on her sneakers, heading downstairs. It was early but Mrs. Hansen would already be up getting tea and coffee ready for breakfast.

Sure enough, the owner was bustling around in the dining room, looking surprised to see Maya.

“You’re up early! Grabbing breakfast before you head out?”

“Actually, I was wondering if you have any open availability right now? I think I’m going to be staying a bit longer.”

Mrs. Hansen beamed at her with the force of a small sun. “Of course, of course. This is our off-season, so I’ve got more than enough room. How much longer would you like to stay?”

Maya hadn’t really thought about it. She just knew she wasn’t ready to go yet.

“Another week to start should be good.”

The owner’s eyebrows went up, but she just said, “Let’s go over to the front desk and I can get you sorted.”

Half an hour later, Maya was booked for another week’s stay in Wayland Beach, showered and dressed, and marching her way determinedly down the street. She had this strange, almost jittery feeling, but also a sense of purpose that led her to Noble Books.

The store wasn’t open yet but as she knocked on the front door, Henry appeared to let her in.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were flying out today? You said you had to get up early to pack.”

“I did.” Maya moved out of the way so he could close the door back up. “But then I decided to stay for another week.”

Henry turned to face her, curiosity and concern warring on his face. “I’m glad to hear it but didn’t you say you had a funeral coming up? And family waiting for you? Is everything okay?”

“I have something to tell you,” Maya blurted out, then bit her lip. “I’m not—there’s not really like a tactful way to say this so I’m just going to be really blunt for a minute, okay?”

To his credit, he didn’t question her. “Okay.”

“Okay. So…” She let out a whooshing breath, hand wrapped around the folded letter in her pocket. “I told you my grandma died last week, and she was basically my mom. She raised me since I was a kid and life was pretty normal. Like, middle class normal. Average house, average school, I shopped at thrift stores and had my first job at seventeen and you know, it was normal. Thinking back now, I suppose we never really seemed stressed for money but also not super well off.”

She pulled the letter from her pocket. “And then, after she passed away, her lawyer contacted me. He had this letter from her and her will to go over with me. Thankfully, I read this first, so I was prepared for her will. It turned out that she left everything to me.”

Henry was nodding, listening intently. “That makes sense, you said you were raised by her.”

“Yes, but…it turns out that my grandma was wealthy. Like, very very wealthy.”

She held the letter out then shook her head and tucked it away. “Sorry, I won’t ask you to read it but she explained that she kept it all a secret so I could have a normal childhood and she didn’t want the money to impact the relationships in her life. She said she was going to tell me but then she got sick and…” She trailed off, having read the letter enough times that she could perfectly picture the words. “She didn’t want our final time together to be about that.”

Maya laughed softly. The whole thing had been so absurd. That was probably part of the reason her grandma had waited to drop that on her and the rest of the family until after she was gone—imagining the looks on everyone’s faces undoubtedly brought her a great deal of glee. She’d always had an evil sense of humor and having a secret fortune was just so…her.

She missed her grandma so much.

Meeting Henry’s eyes, she smiled. “This is just a really complicated way that I’m trying to tell you that I’m rich. Unbelievably, absurdly, life-changingly rich. And I think I want to invest in Noble Books.”

He just stared at her.

“Have you already sold the building? Or anything that can’t be undone?”

Henry shook his head. “No, I…no. It’s supposed to go on the market in a few days. But Maya, I can’t—I mean, you can’t just—”

She held up her hand. “Just hear me out and then you can decide what you want to do. We’d have to go over all of the business aspects first, all of the previous year’s monthly cost and income, and I’ll probably hire someone who knows more about it than I do to look everything over and make sure it’s worth investing it. And if I get the go-ahead, we’d be business partners. I’d want to be involved and hands-on with the store, not just the money bag. I don’t want it to be some weird thing where I’m your boss or anything. We’d be equal partners.”

That wasn’t just because the thought of being someone’s boss terrified her. She also wanted to respect Henry and his family and all they’d put into this place. Taking it over or owning the business wasn’t the point.

She told him so. “I believe in small businesses and what they stand for. This store is important to the town and the community here. That means something and, in my opinion, is more than worth preserving.”

And she meant it. This place was special, Wayland Beach and Noble Books. And all the other small businesses here. It was just chance or fate or whatever that brought her to Henry’s shop.

Maya thought her grandma would have a good laugh at that. And she knew she’d approve of this.

Henry was looking a little pale. “Have you actually stopped for a second and thought about this? I’m not trying to sound ungrateful, but this is a huge thing. A huge thing. Even if you just inherited a fortune, think about how much you’d be taking on. You’ve only been here a week and no offense, but we don’t even know each other that well.”

“It’s been in the back of my mind for a few days now,” she admitted. “At first, just that I was in love with Wayland Beach and that hey, vacation homes are a thing I could actually afford. I was looking for a reason to stay. Then when you told me about selling the store…” She trailed off and shrugged. “And listen, I need you to know this isn’t some weird thing because you took me on a date and I like you. I’m not that sort of girl who goes all in or becomes some crazy stalker or anything. I can’t honestly say I’m totally unbiased because I do like you, but I also like this town and this store.”

“I believe you,” he said, then ran a hand down his face. “This is just a lot. You get that, right? What you just dropped on me?”

“Isn’t this what eccentric rich people do?” she joked. “Throw money around to fund random places and projects that they believe in?”

The money didn’t even matter. She could buy this store at market cost and it wouldn’t even be a drop in the bucket. God, thinking about that still made her feel dizzy. She didn’t think she’d ever be used to it, but using it for some good felt like a decent place to start.

Henry didn’t laugh at her joke. He just swallowed heavily, eyes gazing at some point over her shoulder.

“I’m not making any promises yet,” she said softly. “As I said, I’m not jumping in without making sure it’s a good idea. And it’s not just for you or your family. I want to do this. I want to use this money for something meaningful, something that will make me happy and give me purpose too. That’s what my grandma would have wanted.”

There was a heavy beat of silence between them.

“Okay,” Henry murmured. He cleared his throat then said louder, “Okay. Let’s just start with a meeting. Find your person to look over the numbers and we can go from there.”

Maya smiled. “That sounds great. I’m going to go back to my room then and make some calls.”

She was halfway out the door when he said her name.

“I’m half-convinced you might be making a crazy mistake but…thanks. Thank you. For even considering it. And for seeing what a special place this is.”

She let out a little huff of amusement at the fact that he could very well be right. “My grandma used to say that every mistake was still a chance you were brave enough to take. I’m hoping this is a blend of bravery and intuition.”

Down at the point of the main street where she could look to the left and see the town, faded buildings and colorful flags whipping in the wind, and to the right was the stretch of gray waves crashing against the sand in a beat that had taken home in Maya’s heart, she pulled out the letter.

She knew it by heart at this point but as the ocean breeze ruffled her hair and the town slowly started waking up around her, she read the last lines her grandma had written to her.

I know you’d find a way to do something amazing with your life even without the money. You’ve got that passion, that spark, and the ability to do anything you want. It’s always made me so proud of you, so lucky to have you in my life. But I hope that now, you feel you have the freedom to do just that.

Maya, my granddaughter, daughter of my heart—take some chances, make some mistakes, have an adventure or two. Just follow your heart and it will never lead you astray.