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“You have a call, Dr. Aiden. It’s… Stella Markham.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. After my sail, this seemed like fate. Of course she could be calling to tell me to go to hell, too. “Put her through, please.”
I took a drink of water to coat my suddenly parched throat as Susan transferred the call. When the line clicked open, I tried to sound cool and casual. “Hi, Stella. What can I do for you?”
My heart started climbing back into my chest as her laugh sounded through the phone. “Well, funny you should put it that way. You actually can do something for me. For the whole family.”
I was more than a little surprised when she asked me to work in the medical tent of the Sun and Sand Festival, but excitement thrummed through my veins at the opportunity. “Of course I’ll do it. I’ll make sure to bring plenty of first-aid supplies and maybe some IV fluids in case someone gets really dehydrated.”
“Thank you. Dr. Nelson always helped out, and it’s great you’ll be continuing the tradition.”
“That festival has always been the unofficial start of summer—it’s hard to believe we’re almost to June already. I’m glad to add to the tradition. Are you going to be there?”
“Of course! Who do you think will be manning the resort barbecue stand?”
I grinned and sat back in my executive chair, hardly able to believe our casual, easy banter. “If you’re doing the cooking, I’m definitely in.”
“I’ll save you a plate. See you next week.”
My smile faded. “Stella?”
“Yes?”
I hesitated, gripping the phone as I tried to figure out what to say. “Thanks for asking me. It means a lot. I’ll see you at the festival.”
After I hung up the phone, I laced my fingers behind my head and spun my chair in a circle. My smile turned into a soft laugh, and my eyes dropped to the calendar on my desk. Next Saturday couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter Ten
Stella
The Sea & Sun Festival had transformed Calypso Key’s grassy meadow into a lively scene full of colors and vibrant laughter. Located between the resort and the Markham residences, the area teemed with locals and tourists alike mingling under a sky so blue it hardly looked real. Flame trees scattered throughout the meadow were in full, bright-orange bloom and added their own color to the event. The early-June air buzzed with the hum of conversation and the sizzle of barbecue grills, most notably mine.
“Stella, you’re supposed to be cooking, not daydreaming!” Grace’s voice, tinged with amusement, snapped me back to reality.
“Yeah, I know.” I grinned, turning several brats to ensure even cooking. “Just soaking in the festivities.”
“Save the soaking for later, honey. We’ve got a line longer than the beach volleyball net out there.” With her blonde hair tucked under a Calypso Key Resort baseball hat, Grace nodded toward the distant sandy BBQ area where a lively game was in full swing. Laughter erupted as a particularly robust spike sent the ball flying into the ocean. Three kids dove into the warm water to retrieve it.
“Speaking of which, ten bucks says the Johnson brothers take the cornhole trophy again.” I nudged her as I passed over a loaded plate. A dozen wooden cornhole boxes were placed nearby, and the tournament was slowly whittling away the competitors.
“I’m not taking that bet. Those two win every year.” Grace winked at a customer as she handed them their order. I laughed, watching as a small child attempted to drag his father toward a booth with a face painter. Next to me, chef Felicia shot Grace a grin of agreement as she stirred a huge stock pot of simmering beans, her own family recipe.
Grace watched me rapidly flip half a dozen burgers. “You might want to save some energy for paddleboarding with me later.”
“Only if you promise not to accidentally tip me over this time.”
“Cross my heart.” She gave me an angelic look while crossing her fingers behind her back.
“I see how it is. Traitor.”
The Conch Republic’s beer garden was bustling nearby, a reggae band harmonizing with the laughter. Luke was serving up cold ones with a flourish that drew an appreciative crowd.
“Looks like business is booming all around.” I wiped my sweating brow and took a moment to watch the festival unfold. My heart filled with both pride and belonging.
This was home.
“Sure is.” Grace’s eyes followed the arc of a Frisbee before it was caught by Orchid prep cook Matt, his dark hair flying. He tossed it to Rea with a laugh as my friend continued, “He’s kind of hot. Those blue eyes! Which happens to remind me that the festival is also prime time for people-watching—especially the eligible bachelors of our quaint little town. Like the one in the next booth, maybe?”
