Conflict warred inside me. I liked Levi, but I had also wanted this summer to be all about me and my friends. How did a summer boy factor into that equation? Then again, my dream of the perfect summer already seemed like it was sinking. I hated change, but maybe just this one time, a teeny tiny one would be okay?

I wanted to keep the conversation going, hopefully in a more articulate way than I had last time. “It’s sort of a twisty road, so it’s better without a car,” I said. “I don’t work tomorrow, but Lucy needs me to cover for her a couple hours in the morning. I’m totally free after the breakfast crowd. If you want, I could take you up there.”

Levi nodded. “I’d love that. Thanks.” He hands folded around the cup. “I’ll meet you here?”

“It’s a date.” My mouth clamped shut. Had I really just said that?

He didn’t appear to notice. Relieved he hadn’t seemed amused, or worse, weirded out, I pretended to be busy rearranging the spoons. When I looked up again, he was at his usual table, already sketching, totally oblivious.

Whew.

By the end of the day, only two slices of cake remained in the glass dome. I packed them up for Tom and his friend Ralph, waving off their money when they both reached into their pockets.

In twenty minutes, Busy’s would close for the night, but Levi showed no signs of leaving. He was still scrunched over his sketchbook, feverishly sweeping his hand across the page.

Tom glanced over his shoulder, catching the direction of my gaze. He tucked the portable chess set under his arm. “That the kid who’s staying in your house?”

Insistently, Ralph smoothed out a crumpled five-dollar bill on the counter. “Talented,” he commented. “And hardworking. I was on the selection committee.”

I firmly pushed the money back to him with a smile. “No way.”

Both men were like grandfathers to me. Whether it was showing up to horrible plays in elementary school—out-clapping every other parent there, even when I forgot my lines—or helping me move into the lighthouse, they were there.

Tom’s encouragement of my baking, even researching the law to make sure I could sell my confections in his coffee shop, presented itself in mixing bowls, imported spices, and pastry books at Christmas. And Ralph’s deft fingers had painted a mural on the ceiling of my lighthouse, a blue-and-white sky, and sunflowers in the kitchen, birds on the banister of the stairs.

When it came to these two, my treats were on the house. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. After a few more futile protests, they ambled out, arguing good-naturedly about their chess game.

Lucy had already taken off, and there was nothing left to do. Except kick Levi out.