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It’s a s, say, or a U2 concert, but the Best Awards still attract a fair number of people As a treat, I’ve bookedheld, a beautiful building on the water in Old Port I check in, relishing the rarity of the act The last tiht was last year, for this same event

The rooh bed, enjoying the fine cotton sheets and down pillows Afterward, I shower and dress carefully Maybe I’ll ht holds little appeal, oddly enough God knows, I pri fervently that I would run into a good-looking, kindhearted Washington County restaurateur or innkeeper I didn’t, but I sure as hell hoped

Nope This year is different I’m not over Malone

As I let his name enter my consciousness, loneliness wells up in ether, if I had Malone’s hand to hold tonight I bet he’d look gorgeous in a suit And if I didn’t ell, that would be okay We’d still have a night in a city together We could take a walk afterward, or order dessert in our room We’d sleep past 6:00 am and feel like we’d been away for a week

“Too bad,” I tell et down to that ballroom and win that award”

I DON’T WIN Blackstone Bed & Breakfast wins for the fifth straight year I clap dutifully along with the others, congratulate the irritatingly nice couple and order a scotch Later, when I’e in a quick cry Then I call Octavio

“We came in third,” I tell him wetly

“Hey, third’s not bad,” my cook says

“Third sucks, Tavy,” I sniffle “There are only about three restaurants in the damn county!”

“Okay, now you’re just feeling sorry for yourself, boss,” Octavio says “Third is pretty daood when you live where we live Okay? You should be proud of yourself”

“Right,” I mutter

“How much did we lose by?” he asks

“Sixty-seven votes”

“Sixty-seven! That’s great! Only sixty-seven! We’ll definitely get it next year, boss”

I can’t help but suy”

“See you Friday?” he asks “We should have a good crowd this weekend”

“Yeah See you then I’ll open” I hang up the phone and look out ht and lively, but I’ a bad case of homesickness at the moment Poor Joe’s Such a cute little place It deserves better than third We do serve the best breakfast in Washington County, and next year, so help us God, we’ll have the award to prove it

This year, I’ll do whatever it takes to get a restaurant reviewer to the diner And a travel writer I’ll e-mail every day if I have to Send letters Or better yet, send scones or oods I can redo the ht Sixty-seven more votes is not out of the question My self-pity dries up with my tears We didn’t win, but that doesn’t mean we’re not the best

I take the certificate I got froratulations to Joe’s Diner, Gideon’s Cove, Maine Second Runner Up, Best Breakfast in Washington County”

To hell with Washington County, I think, set best breakfast in Maine

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

THE BLESSING of the Fleet is held annually the third weekend of May The boats fly their flags, the town decorates our three public buildings, local organizations sell hot dogs and lobster bisque on the green The high school band plays, the chorus perforuers, the fire depart veterans march in the five-minute parade Then on Sunday, every boat in the harbor lines up and ranite memorial for lost fishery blesses them and prays for a safe and productive year

Last year, Father Ti over the eood sport I was, I threw eance I baked cookies for the first coht spaghetti supper at the church hall, helped decorate the podiuationalboats Iidiot

This year, I can adot a lot of work out of othim It’s safe to be in love with so is really risked when you know you can’t lose He was a distraction, an excuse, and a friend No more, no less

Saturday y and war, the air is clear and it’s a perfect spring day May is thebreeze off the water keeps thes are able to draw blood through their tiny, painful bites As Christy, Will and I walk down to the green, Violet in the carrier on Will’s back, the ss and ha wave

This weekend see away to an easier place Our sense of neighborhood and friendship is strong at the Blessing People call greetings to each other, shake hands as if it’s been weeks, not hours, since they last met Couples hold hands, children dance with exciteet a balloon? I’h Music drifts in snatches on the breeze

I wave to friends, custohbors…there’s virtually no one I don’t know by nalimpse of Father Tim in his all-black priest clothes, but he is swamped with teary-eyed ishers

Main Street is closed off to cars, and people stroll the block and a half of the “don,” stopping to sample a cookie from the Girl Scouts, a listens froie and I hung out bunting while Judy smoked and squinted in approval I feel a little thrill of pride looking at it, even though it’s closed

“Ow,” Will says, reaching up to pry his hair froo, sweetie” He shifts the backpack as Violet knees him in the spine

“Want me to take her, Will?” I offer “You won’t pull Auntie’s hair, will you, pumpkin?”

“You sure?” Will asks gratefully

“Sure,” I say “I’ll take Violet and you two can stroll around alone for a while, what do you say?”

“I say thank you,” Christy says, unsnapping the harness “You’re the best, Maggie” She holds the pack with Violet still in it as Will slides his arms out, then straps it on me

“Agga,” Violet says “Agga bwee”