Page 89 of The Blueberry Inn

Will’s voice, warm and familiar. Tara didn’t turn around, just wiped her eyes and smiled.

“I was just?—”

“I know.” He crouched beside her, his hand finding hers. “You don’t have to explain.”

They stayed like that for a moment, kneeling in the garden as the last light faded. Then Will stood and offered his hand, and Tara let him pull her to her feet.

“Ready to go back?”

Tara looked at the inn. Every window was lit, golden and warm against the blue darkness. Through the glass, she could see her family moving—Christina and Marco, Ally and Colton, Evan bouncing Grace, Ryan laughing with his friends. Sophia was helping Sam pack up her face painting supplies while James carried empty cider cups to the kitchen. Mary was wrestling Bertha’s witch hat back into position while Dora counted her postcard money and Francesca leaned into Bo’s side.

All of them here. All of them together.

“Not yet,” Tara said. “Let’s stay one more minute.”

Will slid his arm around her waist, and she leaned into him. The inn glowed. The jack-o’-lanterns flickered. The autumn air smelled of cider and the particular sweetness of an ending that was also a beginning.

“We did well,” Will said.

“We did.”

“You did.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “This was your dream. I just helped build the porch.”

“You built a lot more than the porch.”

“Maybe.” He was quiet for a moment. “What do you think Patty would say? About all this?”

Tara considered. Her best friend, who had loved fiercely and lived fully and never let Tara settle for less than she deserved.

“She’d say it took me long enough,” Tara said. “And then she’d ask where the chocolate cake was.”

Will laughed, the sound warm in the cold air. “There’s still some in the kitchen.”

“Then we should probably go eat some before Ryan’s friends find it.”

“Probably.”

But neither of them moved. The stars were coming out now, scattered across the mountain sky. Behind them, the garden settled into darkness. Ahead, the inn blazed with light and life and all the messy, beautiful chaos of family.

In Blueberry Hill, every ending fed the next beginning.

Tara took her husband’s hand and walked toward the light.