I bit my lip. Toby had acquired himself a nickname, and I thought it was adorable. I wasn’t quite sure how Toby-Trey felt about it.
Toby shook his head and set his drink down. “Oh, I can’t take any credit for that. The letter was all Beale’s idea, and Aunt Hagatha’s followers were beyond generous.”
“I just can’t believe she published it!” Littlejohn’s girlfriend, Veronica, managed to sound really glad and really horrified at the same time. “I think hitting up her readers for donations like that is kinda tacky. But I mean, I’m glad for y’all and for John. Obviously.” She touched her ample cleavage and smiled up at Littlejohn prettily, and you could practically see the cartoon swirls in her eyes, he was so hypnotized.
Meanwhile, Toby’s smile hardened to the point where I had to poke him in the ribs.
He glanced over his shoulder and gave me a look that said, What?
I narrowed my eyes a little. I thought we were giving her the benefit of the doubt for LJ’s sake. I thought we were reserving judgment.
Toby inhaled and set his head in a way that screamed, Benefit revoked because his name is Littlejohn, not John.
Which, honestly, was a really good point.
“Oh, I don’t know, Ronnie,” Toby said. “I think Hagatha encouraging readers to write in about their favorite little-known charities is an amazing idea.”
“Veronica,” she corrected. “Not Ronnie.”
“Oh, silly me! I thought we were playing some kind of name-shortening game! My bad. I’m new to small-town life.” Toby’s smile was the kind of slow poison that wouldn’t catch her until she got home. “But as for why Hagatha chose Beale’s letter…” He gave me a mischievous look. “I find Beale a very persuasive letter writer.”
I shook my head slowly. The man I loved was pure trouble and drama and every other thing I’d thought I never wanted, and in a few minutes, I’d get to take him home to our new home—a gorgeous, single-story, huge-windowed place we’d rented from Littlejohn that Toby had promptly dubbed the Terracotta Palace, and where a professionally framed vomit bag now hung in our bedroom alongside a printout of Hagatha’s letter to me.
I couldn’t have been happier.
The ’80s rock ballad playing over the speakers cut out, and there was the sudden whine of feedback as someone—oh, good Lord, my dad—unearthed a microphone.
“I now declare this meeting of the Whispering Key Bridge Fundraising Committee closed! And I’d hereby like to open the Whispering Key Welcome Party in honor of Toby-Trey Elford!”
The entire bar erupted in a chorus of “Surprise!”
My cousin, Fenn, appeared from somewhere, along with Lety, Bubba, Scotty, Jeremy, Barbara, Carolyn, Taffy, and Orry—more Whispering Keysters than I could even count—and all of them came over to tell Toby how glad they were that he’d picked up stakes in New York and moved down here.
Honestly, it had been a near-run thing as far as I was concerned. When I’d packed Marjorie up and brought her to New York, I’d had the idea in mind that if I somehow got Toby to take a chance on me, I’d happily stay, even if I had no idea what that would look like.
But when I’d told Toby so, he’d looked at me like I was several sandwiches shy of a picnic. “Permanently? Under no circumstances, Beale Goodman. Jonquil would fly up and smack us. Since you’re here, it’d be great to show you around this weekend, but I talked to my boss today and told her if all went well, I’d be moving to Florida. We can sublet the apartment and maybe sell it eventually.”
And all of that had sounded really, really good, but the best part had been the we.
Maddie McKetcham ran up to our table carrying an enormous banner that read TEALE 4EVA! in bright purple glitter.
Toby reached for my hand and gave me a look that said, What the fuck is going on?
I gave him a return look that said, Around here, baby? Who the hell knows?
“Madeline,” Toby said, staring at the sign. “What a truly… triumphant work of art. Thank you.”
Maddie beamed. “I knew you’d like Teale better than Boby for y’all’s ship name.”
“Our ship name.” Toby closed his eyes and nodded. “That’s… yes. Remarkable.”
“Littlejohn had us vote.”
Littlejohn nodded. “Ronnie here thought ‘Boby,’ but I wasn’t so sure.”
“Veronica,” his girlfriend, who was probably not going to be his girlfriend for very long, reminded him.
“That’s right, honeybunch. But you’ve gotta admit Ronnie’s catchy.”
Veronica looked like she didn’t “gotta” do anything of the sort.
“We have presents for you,” my dad shouted into the microphone, loud enough to startle any dolphins in the vicinity. “But Doc Mason said you wouldn’t be ready to entertain at your place yet, so we decided to surprise you here!”
Toby mouthed the words “Thank you” to Mase across the table, and Mason winked.
Dale Jennings placed a hand on Veronica’s and Littlejohn’s chairs and leaned in. “Betcha can’t guess what I got you,” he said with an eyebrow wiggle.
Toby blinked. “Is it a seashell-covered toilet seat?”
Dale grinned and nodded slowly. “Aw yeah. You know it. And? Don’t tell Doc Mason, but I got both you boys a year’s supply of ferrymones, for to help your prowesses.” He paused, and when Toby and I stared at him, he elaborated, “Your sexual prowesses.”
“Gotcha. Yeah. That’s… I can’t even…” I shook my head. “Wow.”
“Well said, soul mate,” Toby said, shooting me another one of his speaking glances. “Wow, indeed.”
“I’m literally sitting right here, Dale,” Mason said. He shook his head.
“And my cousin Marian knitted you a bed for your little one!” Dale continued, pretending he couldn’t hear Mase.
I wrapped my arms around Toby, buried my head in his neck, and pretended I couldn’t hear Dale.
At some point Bobo came over and asked Young Rafe about Gage’s road trip. He mentioned his nephew was coming to town and asked about our plans for the tour business, but I didn’t pay much attention. The man in my arms was so intoxicating, it wasn’t hard to tune everything else out…
Except my dad with his microphone.
“Okay, everyone, we’re gonna start the dancing soon—”
That got me to lift my head because dancing with a guy I loved was something I’d never done before, and suddenly I really wanted to.
“—but first, the Bridge Fundraising Committee has just taken a very quick secret vote—”
Toby looked at me, I looked at him, and we both looked at Mason, who grinned and shrugged.
“—and we’ve decided to name the new bridge after our Toby! It will be called the Toby-Trey Elford Memorial Bridge!”
Toby gave me a wide-eyed look that said, Memorial? at the same time Gloria leaned over to whisper something to my dad.
“Er. I mean. It’ll be named whatever Toby would like to name it,” he corrected.
All eyes turned to Toby, who floundered for half a second. He looked at me and then fingered the bracelet on his wrist. Then he looked up at my dad and smiled. “I think it should be called the Goodman Bridge, sir.”