Mariah Stewart - On Sunset Beach

She searched in his pocket for his phone, scrolled through his playlist until she found what she was looking for, made her selection, then stuck the phone back into his pocket as the music began to play.

“You Had Me at Hello.”

“That’s my line,” Ford told her.

“I’m borrowing it.” She wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Does that mean you’ll stay in St. Dennis, too?”

“That means I’ll work out a way to run my businesses from here as much as possible. Ellie’s thinking about leaving all of her paintings right where they are, and that means that someone has to be in charge of the exhibit for as long as it’s running. No one knows Carolina’s work better than I do. Besides, I’ve had some really good ideas for that gallery, and I’d like to explore them.”

“Well, then, it looks like we’ve both landed in the same place at the same time.”

“Looks like.” She ran a finger along the side of his face. “So I guess this means you’re staying.”

“I guess it does. You know what they say: there’s no place like home.”

She searched her bag for the house keys, stood and pushed open the door, and led him into the darkened house. She wrapped her arms around him, then kicked the door closed with her foot.

“Welcome back, Ford,” she whispered. “Welcome home …”

My mother always used to tell us that in every well-lived life, there should be balance. You know, some sun, some rain .

Well, I’m waiting for the storm to begin because for most of this summer, it’s been all sunshine. Yes, yes, there was that business of falling down the steps and breaking a couple of bones. I’m still in the casts and I’m still in the wheelchair, but even so, there’s been more sun than rain .

It started when Ford came home. My sweet son has grown up to be everything his father and I could have hoped for. He pitched in when I needed him to, and wonder of wonders, he’s been coming up with new and creative ways that the Gazette can serve St. Dennis. My hands are shaking as I write this—and I can hardly believe it myself, but it appears he’s planning on sticking around to implement those changes. To say that my prayers have been answered would be an understatement, because not only is Ford starting to believe—as I have all along—that his place is at the helm of the paper, but it appears that he may be thinking of settling down here permanently .

Of course, we have Carly to thank for that—of that I am certain. I knew the first time I met her that she was the one—it just took him a little longer to figure it out .

So he spends much of his time on Hudson Street, and that’s just skippy with me. It’s plain to see that my boy is in love, and since it’s equally obvious that that love is returned, I couldn’t be happier .

As for Carly, well, the gallery could not be a greater success than it is: glowing write-ups in the New Yorker and the New York Times and the Washington Post! Such a fine spotlight shining on our little town, and of course, on Carolina Ellis. Yes, Carly has done exactly what she said she could do, and St. Dennis is better for it .

And from what I hear from Ford, Carly is planning on sticking around. Dallas apparently has read her book and has made no secret of the fact that she wants to make Carolina’s story into a movie to be titled—what else?—Stolen Moments. Not only that, but Carly’s making plans for another big showing at the gallery. The headliner this time around? Not Carolina, but our own Shirley Wyler, Steffie and Grant’s mother. The whole town is positively abuzz! Who even knew she painted?! Ford said with so much going on, Carly’s decided to make an offer to buy the house on Hudson Street. It doesn’t take a psychic to figure out that she won’t be living alone for much longer .

So, all in all, much more sunshine than rain lately. I have all my children here in St. Dennis—though no longer under my roof, but that’s fine. Lucy and Clay are happy and talking about starting a family. Ford has found his heart, and I feel a joy in him that I haven’t seen since he was a boy. One could say that two out of three isn’t bad—but it’s beginning to look as if Dan seems married to the inn these days. I’m afraid he’ll spend the rest of his life alone. He’s barely looked at another woman for more than a few weeks since Doreen died, and that’s been years now. Long enough, certainly, for him to move on. Oh, I don’t mean forget—she was the love of his young life, the mother of his children. He never will forget her, nor should he. But perhaps there’s another love for him somewhere—maybe the love of the rest of his life. I just wish he’d make some effort to find her .

Cue the heavy sigh …

~ Grace ~

Writing a novel—much like raising a child—takes a village. I will be eternally grateful to everyone at Ballantine Books for being my village—especially Gina Wachtel, Junessa Viloria, and most of all, Linda Marrow, who bought my first book lo those many years ago and started me on this incredible journey.

Heartfelt thanks to my agent, Loretta Barrett, for always representing me with honesty and integrity, and for the blessing of your friendship.

Thanks to Chery Griffin, Helen Egner, and Jo Ellen Grossman for unwavering friendship across the years and across the miles. I love you and appreciate the support you always offer.

And thanks to my beautiful, crazy, wonderful family—Bill, Becca, Kate, Mike, Cole, and Jack. You are my everything.