Grayson was right about one thing: Summer woke the next morning with a new sense of resolve. She wasn’t a quitter, and she wasn’t ready to call it a day and walk away—at least not when it came to her dreams. She’d worked too long for this, and even though her soft opening wasn’t exactly the thing of legends, she was far from done. She spent the rest of her holiday weekend in a whirlwind of powdered sugar, butter, and all the other essential food groups, and by Monday morning, she was determined: the bakery would be a success.

“If I have to go door to door, getting them hooked on croissants, I’ll do it,” she vowed, fastening her prettiest apron around her waist and grabbing the cash tray.

“Umm, somehow, I don’t think you’ll need to.” Poppy had a smile on her face, and when Summer stepped out into the shop, she saw why. There was already a line forming outside, with people jostling to peer through the windows.

“Wait, what’s that?” Summer asked, noticing something colorful stretching across the front of the store.

“A ribbon.” Poppy grinned. “Red, white, and blue. You can’t have a big opening without a ceremonial snip!”

She handed Summer a pair of massive scissors, and nudged her to the front. “Go on, time to greet your adoring public.”

Summer opened the doors, and stepped outside. There had to be fifty people there! Mackenzie, Riley, Cooper, June . . . All her new friends from Sweetbriar, and plenty of strangers besides. “You guys!” Summer managed, already feeling overwhelmed. “I can’t believe this turnout!”

“We read that profile in the Gazette,” a woman said, planted firmly by the doors. “Those cakes looked so delicious, I told my Harold, I was going to be first in line.”

“The Epicurean blog said your peach cake is incredible,” another woman agreed. “I drove all the way in from Boston to try a slice!”

Summer couldn’t believe it. “Speech!” Mackenzie called.

“Never mind the speeches, where are the sticky buns?” Riley heckled teasingly.

Summer tried to catch her breath. “I just want to thank you all for coming,” she said, looking out at the sea of friendly faces. “I only arrived in town last month, but everyone’s been so welcoming. So many people have helped out, it really means the world to me.”

Her voice caught as she saw Grayson, hanging back in the crowd. And when she met his eyes and saw the pride there, it almost made her tear up again.

No crying today.

“So, without further ado . . .” She quickly snipped the ribbon. There was a cheer, and people eagerly started pressing to get inside. “Easy there,” Summer laughed, rushing to beat them through the door. “There’s plenty of croissants to go around!”

Three hours later, and she was wondering if her claim would hold up. Pasties were flying off the shelves faster than she could keep track, and she already had a long list of orders from local restaurants, all wanting to stock her breads on their menu.

“We’re almost out of pain au chocolat,” she called, scooping the last couple into a fresh paper bag.

“If you want to go put another batch in the oven, I can hold the fort out here,” Jessi suggested. She was one of the local girls Summer had hired to help out on the register—all recovered from that bout of food poisoning now.

Summer eyed the line. She’d wanted to wait until the crowd eased up, but there was no sign of that happening any time soon. The bell was ringing off its hook as people kept flooding into the store, picking up treats for their beach picnic and snapping photos of every cake to post on social media. She’d set up an alert for the bakery Instagram page, and now her phone kept buzzing on the counter with every new tag and post.

“OK, I’ll be quick.” Summer ducked into the kitchen and quickly grabbed the pastry she had chilling in the fridge. This time, she’d been prepared, and had the raw ingredients for all of her favorites lined up neatly on the shelves; she only had to scoop the chocolate filling from the waiting bowl, roll her pastry into a wafer-thin layer, and then roll them into tiny bundles to slip into the oven—remembering to hit the timer, so there would be no more four-alarm fires. She threw in some more crostata too for good measure, sticky with fresh strawberry glaze, then dashed back out front.

“Isn’t this just the cutest?” the fifth person that day remarked, reaching the counter. “I’ve been saying for years, a good bakery is just what the Cape needs.”

“I agree,” June butted in, giving Summer a wink. “Have you tried the éclairs yet? Life-changing!” She kissed her fingertips, and Summer nudged the sample platter closer.

“Be my guest.”

“Mmmm.” The woman took a mouthful, then glanced eagerly around. “Is your mother here today? I brought my cookbook for her to sign. I’m her biggest fan!”

Summer managed a smile. “Sorry, not today!”

“Oh, that’s a shame.” The woman’s face fell, and she looked so disappointed not to get a glimpse of Eve Bloom in person that Summer took pity.

“But the éclair recipe is her favorite,” she fibbed. If by favorite you meant glanced at them once and said they weren’t a complete disappointment. “She loves the chocolate ones best.”

The fan brightened. “Then I’ll take six!”

“Coming right up.”

Summer packaged and served and smiled for photos for what seemed like hours, and still, the crowds didn’t let up. “Where did everyone come from?” she exclaimed to Poppy, when her friend dropped by to see how things were going. “I haven’t seen this many people on the whole Cape all month!”

“Memorial Day weekend, baby.” Poppy grinned. She slipped Summer a huge cup of iced lemonade, and Summer took a thirsty gulp. “You timed this opening just right. Plus the flyers plastered all over Sweetbriar didn’t hurt. I was just down in town, and Riley is practically shoving people out of the pub to come pay a visit.”

“He is? Remind me to bring him extra muffins,” Summer said, feeling grateful. “In fact, I should make up gift baskets for everyone. You, Mackenzie, June . . . I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“And Grayson?” Poppy arched an eyebrow. “I saw him earlier.”

“I know. But he hasn’t been in yet.” Summer wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Just a glimpse of him still made her heart flip over, and she needed to focus on the bakery. But still, after the clean-up act he’d done, and showing up today, she was more confused than ever about what he wanted from her. “Anyway,” she said, changing the subject. “If I can keep even one-tenth of these crowds through to the end of summer, I’ll be on track to hit my targets.”

“Just wait.” Poppy grinned. “You haven’t even seen Bear Week yet.”

“Do I want to know?” Summer laughed. She turned to the next customer, and brightened, seeing a familiar face. “Brooke!”

“Hey, congratulations!” The hotel manager smiled back. Summer couldn’t believe it, but that first catering job felt like a lifetime ago. “I saw the news about this place and had to come check it out.”

“Pick your poison.” Summer gestured to the display case.

“Ooh, I think I have to go with the peach cake,” Brooke decided. “I’ve been dreaming about it ever since that wedding.”

“Good choice.” Summer carefully slid a slice onto a plate.

“Actually, that’s why I’m here,” Brooke added, as she rang up the sale. “I’m trying to raise the hotel’s profile as a wedding venue, and I was wondering if you’d like to chat sometime about a contract to supply the cakes.” Brooke looked hopeful. “I’d love to make it part of the event package, maybe set up the tastings when they come tour the venue. If you have the time,” she added, looking around at the hum of activity.

“I’d love to talk,” Summer said, flattered. “That could be fun—especially if someone else is dealing with the brides. And the mothers of the brides.”

Brooke laughed. “Yes, that’s all on me. Here, let me give you my card.” She rummaged in her purse and passed over a neat square, printed with her details. Summer took it, pleased. Although summer looked like it would be packed with business, she knew the Cape emptied out for winter season, and any extra gigs would be great.

“Thanks. I’ll definitely be in touch.”

“You’ll be seeing me, one way or another,” Brooke said, scooping up a fingertip of frosting. “I’m lucky, I nearly didn’t make it in here, with all the trucks blocking the lane.”

“Trucks?” Summer frowned.

“They’re backed up, almost to the turn.” Brooke said. “A whole production crew, by the looks of it.”

Summer’s heart sank. “She didn’t . . .” she murmured, under her breath. “Poppy?”

“Right here.”

“Mind the counter for a moment, will you?” Summer ripped off her apron and walked fast for the door. Sure enough, the moment she stepped outside she saw the traffic. It was impossible to miss: three huge trucks blocking the country lane, with people unloading lighting rigs and cameras and—

“No!” Summer groaned out loud.

“I take it this wasn’t part of the plan?” Grayson materialized beside her, or maybe he’d been there all along. Summer gulped, but the chaos heading her way took priority right now, especially when she knew what was behind it.

Her mother.