We were able to thin the crowd in the street by rerouting them indoors to pick up their coffees before sending them on their way. By lunchtime, all the coffee ran out, and Tom and Ralph were back to take over our stall.

Lucy’s mom accompanied them, and even though she wasn’t dressed for handling food, she rolled up her sleeves, donned a spare apron, and got to work taking orders inside Busy’s. “Hi, Babe,” she said cheerfully. “Ran into these two codgers at the garden and thought I’d give you a hand.”

“We definitely won’t turn down the help,” I said with a smile, turning away to help another customer. “Thanks, Mrs. Bishop.”

As I packed cookies into a to-go box, the woman I was serving asked, “Do you have a website?”

“For Busy’s? No, sorry, not yet. We’re working on it, though! Hope to have it up soon.”

She tucked her black hair behind her ear. “My husband and I were here last year and we just loved your food. In winter, we thought about your shortbread tea cookies quite a bit. I tried re-creating them, but I never get the perfect balance of tea.” She laughed. “Have you ever thought about taking online orders?”

I knew Busy’s had great reviews on TripAdvisor, in no small part because of my baking, but I knew I wanted to talk to Tom before making a business decision like that. Right now, it felt a little wrong to commercialize my baked goods; Tom’s cozy, homey coffee shop was where they—we—belonged. “I have,” I said, lips quirking up in a smile. “I’d love to do something like that one day, but my grandma once told me not to dance faster than the music.”

The woman smiled and accepted the bag I slid across the counter. “Sounds like a smart woman,” she said, setting down a crisp bill. “Keep the change. Hope to see you again next year!”

Business kept rolling steadily for two hours, and by the time it slowed enough that we could take a break, we were bone-tired. With hugs all around, Lucy’s mom left Busy’s to join her husband at the gazebo. I glanced over what remained of the food—we were almost sold out of everything.

“I’ve never been so tired in my whole life,” Lucy moaned as she stood up from her chair. She’d said that last year, too.

Even from here we could hear the twangs of the banjo and the boisterous cheers of the crowd as the town outside geared up for the fireworks display.

“You kids get a move on,” said Tom. “We’ve worked hard today, and you should enjoy the rest of the fish fry. Ralph and I can handle things here. Just put the money in the cash register, would you?”