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But this time he let her. He didn’t fight it. He simply got in the car and left.

A soft hand squeezed her own. “I can hear you overthinking.”

Jess gave her sister a tight smile. “Not much has changed there, huh?”

“No, maybe not.” Dakota smiled. “But a lot has changed, and I think for the better.”

Jess leaned her head against the couch as guests mingled, piling food on plates and pouring cups of sweet tea. “Like what?” she asked.

“Like you being here.” Another squeeze. “Like you spending all summer being challenged by a man who only wants what’s best for you.”

“I hardly think going skinny dipping or shopping for clothes would be considered a challenge.”

“Things you probably wouldn’t have done last summer,” Dakota countered. “Everything on that list challenged you in some way, and I really like him for that.”

“Why?” she whispered.

Dakota placed a hand on Jess’s cheek. “Because it was good practice for facing this final challenge and coming home.”

Why is bravery so messy?

It was the thought that ran through Jess’s head throughout the rest of the shower, and the hours after as she helped clean up. Her father didn’t say much to her after their talk on the boat, her mother also equally as quiet as they worked side by side wiping down surfaces, doing dishes, wrapping up leftover food, and tying up trash bags. When the house was finally cleaned she mumbled her goodbyes, leaning down to hug Dakota sitting on a porch chair, Jasper massaging her feet propped up on his knees. She didn’t make a move to hug her parents, and neither did they. Timid smiles, cordial waves, and Jess was off, driving away from her home once again. But this time with the promise of coming back.

She pulled the car onto the main drag and slowed as she made her way down the road, past a crowded Wilson’s Pub and Pop’s Seafood and Penny’s Pizzeria, a classic Saturday night in Haverport unfolding before her eyes. It was only a matter of weeks before the summer people packed up and left town, and it all felt like it was going by too quickly. They were running out of time, and she had no idea how to fix it or what to do.

Jess drove slowly past Grampy’s, glancing into the dark window and noticing a faint glow coming from the back kitchen. Without thinking about it too much, she pulled over and parked, then walked to the back door and knocked three times.

The door creaked open and a hand shot out, holding a brown paper bag. “Five bucks. Cash only.”

“Need a hand?”

He opened the door further, his gray beard twitching into a grin when he noticed it was Jess. “Got your apron?”

She reached into her purse and pulled out her denim old faithful. “Always.”

He stepped back to make room for her. Jess fastened her apron and looked around the cramped kitchen. Cartons of blueberries and flour and brown sugar sat open next to square silver takeaway trays that lined the entire counter. She peered into the oven and saw it was already full with trays on trays of blueberry coffee cake.

Before she could say anything, Grampy thrust a piece of paper at her. She took it from him and scanned the top.

Grampy’s Blueberry Coffee Cake

Her eyes widened as she continued to read the recipe in her hands.

“What…did you just…are you serious—” she sputtered.

“Chop, chop. I don’t have all night,” Grampy interrupted. He handed her a whisk.

She walked up to the counter and placed the prized recipe down, then, still completely shook, began to follow the most coveted recipe in Haverport. Beat the butter and sugar, add an egg and vanilla. Sift the flour, salt, baking powder and soda, then add it to the wet ingredients. As she got to the part where she was folding in sour cream (sour cream, she thought, of course), Grampy handed her a small bowl of freshly washed blueberries. Adding it in, she spread the cake batter into prepared pans and handed them off to Grampy to top with his signature sugary crumb and slide into the oven.

They kept at it for another hour, preparing one cake after another after another. Her hands were cramping from folding cake batter, but she was beaming as she took a seat on a nearby stool, watching Grampy pull the last few batches of cakes from the oven.

“So you do your baking the night before,” Jess commented.

“The early mornings were becoming too much, especially for the demand,” Grampy explained. “I can’t have this many cakes ready by seven.”

“Have you ever thought about opening later?”

“And disappoint the town? No, never.”