Page 137 of Death of a Grill Master

“Apparently,” Hayley said, “we’re helping Liddy uproot her entire life and move halfway across the country by next Thursday.”

Bruce glanced at Doug, then at Liddy. “Well,” he said slowly, “at least she won’t need to pack her snow shovel.”

The room burst into overlapping chatter—Liddy peppering Doug with questions about flights and housing, Hayley trying to get a word in about how you can’t just spring a life-changing move on people in Bar Harbor—news like that needs to make the rounds before the coffee’s cold, preferably with half the town invited to gawk—and Bruce quietly feeding Leroy a piece of toast like this was any other Sunday morning.

By the time the initial chaos settled, Hayley had been roped into organizing an impromptu gathering before Liddy’s “big leap.”

By that afternoon, Hayley and Mona had decided a proper send-off was nonnegotiable. It wasn’t to be a sit-down brunch like the last two gatherings—this was a pop-up backyard farewell, thrown together in record time. They set the dining table with mimosas in mismatched champagne flutes, a platter of lobster sliders, deviled eggs dusted with paprika, and a mountain of golden hash browns—because in Bar Harbor, breakfast food refuses to respect the clock. Mona added a bubbling dish of baked mac and cheese “for ballast,” claiming she didn’t trust anyone to make life-changing decisions on an empty stomach. Hayley had strung mini Maine flags between the posts of her back deck, and Bruce had threaded chili peppers through the lines for a Santa Fe touch.

Neighbors dropped by in shifts. Randy and Sergio arrived halfway through, sunglasses on and already holding drinks.

Randy took one look at the scene and smirked. “Well, well, well. Liddy couldn’t let us have the last big send-off, could she? Had to make it about her and move away, too.”

“Always the center of attention,” Sergio said, deadpan.

“Yeah, when it comes to stealing focus, she’s a master criminal.”

Sergio nodded gravely. “Yes … the most notary criminal I ever met.”

Randy laughed. “You mean notorious.”

Sergio grinned. “That, too.”

Mona clinked her mimosa glass with a serving spoon until the chatter quieted. “I just want to say,” she began, “sending Liddy off is like sending a crate of lobsters to New York—you know she’ll make a splash there, but we’re gonna miss the claws around here. And Doug—well, bless you for taking her on. May your spice business thrive, your love life sizzle, and your patience never boil over. And if you two ever break up, you’re keeping her. We’re not taking returns—especially ones that can outtalk the weatherman during a nor’easter.”

The crowd laughed and raised their glasses.

Mona, as usual, had nailed her second goodbye toast in less than a week.

The following Thursday, Hayley was pulling up to Bangor International Airport with Liddy in the passenger seat and Doug riding in Bruce’s truck behind them, the bed loaded with her oversized suitcases. Liddy had packed enough for a yearlong fashion shoot: two oversized suitcases, a matching carry-on, and a tote bag stuffed with glossy magazines.

Hayley eased her car up to the curb, eyeing the mountain of suitcases Doug had somehow crammed into the back of Bruce’s truck. “Good grief, Liddy—are you moving to Santa Fe or opening a department store?”

Liddy waved a dismissive hand. “Sweetheart, this is merely my starter set. You and Mona can ship the rest when you have a moment—picture Elizabeth Taylor in Cleopatra, but with a better luggage collection. And maybe a little less eyeliner.”

Inside the small terminal, the four of them stood in an awkward bubble of last-minute advice and quick hugs. When the boarding call came, Liddy clutched Hayley tightly.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she murmured. “I’m terrified.”

“You’ll be fine,” Hayley said. “Santa Fe’s about to get a whole lot more Liddy.”

Liddy gave a watery laugh. “They have no idea what’s coming.” She blinked fast, fanning her eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.”

“Too late,” Hayley said, her own throat tightening. “Don’t you dare make me start.”

They were about to hug when a commotion broke out near the doors.

“Hey! You can’t park there!” an airport employee shouted.

Both women turned just as Mona came barreling through the automatic doors, windblown and red-faced, keys in one hand, her lobster boots squeaking across the tile. “Like I was gonna let you two have a tearful goodbye without me!” she yelled.

“Mona!” Liddy gasped. “You said you were too busy!”

“I lied,” Mona said, voice breaking as she threw her arms around them both. “You’re not leaving this town without one last group hug.”

All three clung together—laughing, sniffling, muttering about mascara and bad parking decisions. Even Bruce looked misty-eyed, though he tried to hide it.

When they finally pulled apart, Hayley managed a wobbly smile. “Go sell half of Santa Fe a house they can’t afford—and make sure Doug sprinkles his spice empire on everything they eat.” She hesitated, her voice softening. “Just promise you’ll remember where home really is.”