And I think I might.

“I’ll go through my room today,” I tell her. “I’m sure I have some things I can contribute to the cause.”

“Only if you want to,” she says. “I don’t expect you to start giving up all your worldly possessions.”

“I do want to. You’re right. It’s just stuff.” I hesitate, considering. “Also, Mom? I should tell you. I’m planning this gala for the center. Kind of a fancy shindig thing, to raise money. And I’ve been asking local businesses if they can contribute gift baskets to the silent auction. I’d love to have something from Ventures Vinyl, especially because our theme is Yellow Submarine. But I get it if you guys can’t contribute anything.”

Mom’s grin spreads across her face. “Listen to you. I always knew you were going to be my little entrepreneur.”

I roll my eyes. “Mom.”

“I can’t help it, honey. Watching you kids grow up…” She sighs. “Well, maybe you’ll understand someday. Anyway. I don’t know about a gift basket. I’ll have to discuss it with your father. Could be a good opportunity to let more people know about the store. But you’re right. Money is tight, and I don’t know if we’re in a great position to be making charitable contributions.”

“I know. Totally no pressure. But…” I lift my finger. “While we’re on the topic, I’ve actually had some ideas about the store, and Ari has, too. Some things we can do to drum up new business or at least make the store feel more current. Maybe someday we could sit down and talk about it?”

She fixes me with a thoughtful look, the corners of her lips barely lifted. “I think your dad and I would like that very much.”

I nod. “I’ll start putting together a business proposal.”

She laughs and goes back to cleaning the golf clubs. “You do that.”

My eye catches on a box on a shelf, where Grandma’s old china tea set is settled into a bed of packing peanuts. “Are you getting rid of those teacups?”

Mom follows my look. “I was thinking about it.”

“Okay … but not today.” I grab the box. Mom doesn’t stop me and doesn’t ask what I’m doing as I carry it into the house.

Eleanor is in the living room, making a tower of alternating red and black checker chips.

“Hey, Ellie. While Jude and I are eating our lunch … do you want to come play tea party with us?”

The smile she gives me is all the reward I need.

FORTY-TWO

I’m twenty minutes early the next day, in part because my sleep schedule is indeed completely wonky. After yesterday’s long nap and an early bedtime, I woke up at four this morning, which is ridiculously early, even for me.

No matter. I had plenty of pleasant memories to keep my mind occupied before I managed to pull myself out of bed. I used my morning hours semi-productively … when I wasn’t caught up in unhelpful fantasies, at least. I’m giddy as I swing my bike into the parking lot, eager to tell Quint and Rosa and the other volunteers about my new ideas for the gala.

That—and I can’t wait to see Quint again. It’s been an entire day, and there’s a small part of me that thinks it might have been a fluke. Maybe we were just caught up in the romance of the storm. Maybe he’ll take one look at me this morning and regret everything.

But every time these doubts start to creep in, I think about his words, right after he kissed me the first time. I’ve wanted to do that for a while.

It wasn’t a fluke. It wasn’t a mistake. And I cannot go another minute without seeing him and kissing him and confirming that it was real. That he still likes me as much as I like him.

There’s only one car in the parking lot—Rosa’s, I think. None of the other volunteers have arrived yet. I tear off my helmet and practically skip to the door.

No one is in the lobby, so I make a quick pass around the yard and lower levels. No one in the kitchen, or the laundry room, or with any of the animals. I do stop to greet Lennon and Luna, but I can tell that they’re only interested in me because it’s almost breakfast time.

“I’ll be back soon,” I whisper. “First, I need to see Quint before I explode.” I squeal in the same way Penny squeals whenever she sees a photo of Sadashiv on one of those celebrity magazines they keep at the checkout line at the grocery store. I feel faintly embarrassed for myself, but it doesn’t keep me from practically jogging back down the hall.

“Hello? Anyone here?” I call, even as I’m ascending the steps to the second floor.

I’m passing the break room when Rosa sticks her head out of her office and blinks at me. She looks bewildered. “Prudence.”

“Hi!” I beam. “I know, I’m early. Is Quint here yet?”

She doesn’t speak for a minute. Doesn’t move. Then she clears her throat and glances over her shoulder, back into her office. “Yes,” she says slowly. Her jaw is set when she faces me again. “Actually, I’m glad you’re here, before the others. Can I … can we talk to you?”

“Of course! I want to talk to you, too.” I clap my hands excitedly. “I secured us a venue for the gala! I mean—it was Quint’s idea, so I can’t take all the credit, but it’s perfect!” I follow Rosa into her office.

And there’s Quint, his hands gripping the edge of a low bookshelf, his ankles crossed in front of him.

My heart leaps at the sight of him.

His head is lowered slightly as his eyes dart toward me, and there’s a second—just a second—when I remember his story about his eyebrows, and how he was afraid they made him look mean, and I can kind of understand why he would have thought that. But the moment passes, and no, he doesn’t look mean. He looks nervous.

He probably hasn’t told his mom about us yet.

I can’t be hurt. I haven’t told anyone, either, not even Jude or Ari.

I smile at him.

He looks away.

Ooooo-kay. Not quite the reception I’ve been dreaming about all morning, but … maybe his mom doesn’t want him dating anyone yet? Not that we’re dating. Officially. Or anything. But it has to be heading in that direction. You don’t kiss someone for seven straight hours without wanting it to become a regular thing.

At least, I know I want it to become a regular thing.

“So!” I chirp, trying to dispel the weird tension in the air. “I called the Offshore Theater yesterday and told them all about the center and what we’re planning for the gala, and they are totally on board. They’ll let us use it free of charge, as long as we don’t do it on a weekend, so I went ahead and booked it for the eighteenth, which is a Tuesday. It’s going to be perfect. They have a kitchen for the caterers to use, plenty of tables and chairs we can set out, and just like you thought, they should have everything we need for the AV equipment, too. The manager I spoke with seemed really excited to be a part of the event. I told them we’re hoping it will become an annual thing, and…” I swallow. Rosa is rubbing the back of her neck, looking concerned. “They love the ‘Yellow Submarine’ theme. They do a Beatles movie marathon every couple of years, so they said they can put out some of the posters from that.” Quint’s jaw twitches. His eyes are still glued to the floor. My chest feels like it’s starting to cave in, and the only way to prevent it is to keep talking, so I do. “Plus they’re also going to supply a date-night-themed gift basket for the auction, complete with movie tickets and a free bucket of popcorn! Isn’t that … so … generous?”

My shoulders fall. I can’t keep going. No amount of enthusiasm could hide the fact that I feel like I’m talking to a brick wall. Two brick walls. Why isn’t Quint looking at me? Why isn’t Rosa smiling and saying how great this is?

“Okay, what?” I say. “Is it one of the animals? Is Lennon okay? Luna?”

“The animals are fine,” says Rosa. She glances at Quint, her brow furrowed. His knuckles whiten where he’s gripping the bookshelf.

“Then what’s going on? Is the insurance not going to cover the damages from the storm?”

“No, Prudence…”

“Then why do you both look so miserable?”

Rosa inhales deeply. She looks again at Quint, and I think she’s maybe waiting to see if he wants to say something, but his mouth is shut so tight a muscle has started to twitch in his cheek. “Prudence,” Rosa says again, clasping her hands together in front of her. “Is there, perhaps, something you’d like to tell us?”

I stare at her. Then my attention darts to Quint. He shifts his shoulders, hunching forward, and still does not look up. I look back at Rosa again.

“Other than how the gala is really coming together?”

Quint makes a disgusted sound in his throat—the first thing he’s almost said since I got here. I feel my hackles rise. I’ve heard that sound. I used to hear it all the time.

Rosa massages her brow. “I think you know that isn’t what I’m referring to.”

“I have no idea what you’re referring to. Quint, what is going on?”

He releases the bookshelf, but only so he can cross his arms over his chest. At least he manages to look me in the eye, and I take back what I thought before. He does look mean.

I can feel panic starting to claw at my throat. Have I just stumbled into some alternate universe where this summer never happened and Quint still despises me? What did he say the other night—that he used to think I was a terrible person? I’d given him a pass on that comment, because he’d made it quite clear that he no longer felt that way. And I couldn’t entirely blame him, either, after how awful I’d been toward him all year.

But that was then. So why is he looking at me like this now?

“A woman came to the center yesterday,” says Rosa. “She had an interesting story to tell, involving a lost earring and a large cash donation made during the beach cleanup.” She pauses, waiting to see my reaction. I don’t know what she thinks she sees on my face, but Rosa looks disappointed. “I can see that I don’t need to tell you the whole story. The short of it is, she felt bad about selling off this earring that didn’t belong to her—though of course she had no way of knowing at the time who it did belong to. She came here trying to make amends. To get back the money she donated so she could repurchase the earring and give it back to its rightful owner. But as you and I both know, that money isn’t here. So, tell me, Prudence … where could twelve hundred dollars have disappeared to?”