Page 68 of Time After Time
She must have sensed my tension, because she moved closer, handing me my straw hat and sunglasses. I’d packed them the night before, but in my rush to get to the town square early, I had completely forgotten about them.
“Thank you,” I whispered, closing my eyes for a moment to enjoy the relief the hat and sunglasses provided from the sun. When I opened them again, I asked, “What are you doing here?”
“I came to help you,” she said, her fists resting on her hips as she grinned at me. The sun hit her just right, making one of her eyes squint even though she wore a baseball cap. “I won’t be able to stay long—I promised Ava I’d check out her new car, and that’s going to take a while. But,” she shrugged nonchalantly, “it’s no big deal.”
Sylvie knew how anxious I was about this. She understood how much I wanted everything to be perfect.
These feelings were all too familiar from the past few days. I worried about meeting everyone’s expectations and whether my vision would hold up once everything was decorated.
Doubts swirled in my mind, making me question if I was the right person for this and whether I could still pull off something I’d always done with ease.
“Gen,” Sylvie’s hand on my shoulder made me look up from the ground. She smiled, her lips pulling up at the corners as her gaze softened, the edges of her eyes crinkling just enough to make me feel like everything would be alright. “You’re doing fantastic. I have no doubts. No one questions how incredible this will look.”
She gave a reassuring nod, and when I didn’t immediately respond, she nodded again, clearly hoping I’d mirror her gesture so she’d know her words had sunk in.
“Now,” she said, brushing her hands together, “where do you need me?”
I chuckled and pointed at the boxes.
Hanks had seemed pretty frustrated earlier, likely because he’d made four trips to the square today, delivering several packages addressed to me that were full of decorations for the festival. “We need to open all of these, check that everything we ordered has arrived, and make sure all the decorations are in perfect condition.”
A sigh escaped me as I glanced at the mountain of boxes. There were so many to go through, but with Sylvie’s help, I hoped we’d get it all sorted before Robert showed up to help Mr. Pascal and Mr. Davidson with assembling the wooden stalls.
Sylvie let out a small grunt as she lowered herself onto the bench. It was cool to the touch, shaded by a large tree, and I was grateful the metal wasn’t scorching my bare skin where my denim shorts left me exposed. I exhaled, a small shiver running up my shoulders, thankful for the relief from the heat.
Around us, everyone involved in the festival was busy checking in with the mayor, sorting out their roles for the upcoming days of preparation.
Everything had to be perfect.
As the last package settled between Sylvie and me, an unexpected silence fell over us. I could sense her tension. Her lower lip caught between her teeth. I tried to ignore it while carefully unpacking the items, handling each one with care and checking for any damage. I turned them over in my hands, scrutinising every detail to make sure they were intact.
But her restlessness only grew worse, making me break the silence without looking up. “What’s wrong?”
I couldn’t understand how Sylvie wasn’t sweating more than she already was, especially since she was wearing a black t-shirt under one of her favourite denim dungarees.
The dungarees were spotless and free of grease, clearly not the ones she wore while working on cars. Her hair looked fantastic too, pulled into a messy ponytail with a black and white bandana wrapped around it. There was something about Sylvie that made her look effortlessly stunning, no matter what she wore—she was simply beautiful.
“I’m leaving.”
Furrowing my brow, I pulled my phone from my back pocket and checked the time before slipping it back in. “I thought you weren’t leaving until 12.”
I resumed unpacking, pulling out white shell-shaped jewellery trays from the box. I planned to place these in each stall for tips, hoping to fund our annual beach clean-up. Taking care of the environment was important to us—especially with how much more littered the beaches had become thanks to careless tourists.
“Yeah, yeah,” Sylvie said, while taking the last shell-shaped bowl, scrutinizing it to make sure it wasn’t broken, and thensetting it beside the others. I stopped her and took the trays from her hands, explaining that I had brought two extras: one for our mum, who would adore the white exterior and blue interior, and another for Cora.
Then, with a sudden shift in tone, she added, “I’m leaving Golden Sands.”
Sylvie’s shoulders sagged so low they almost seemed to touch the ground, and her gaze remained fixed on it, as if she were seeing it for the first time after 22 years of living here.
I shook my head, trying to dissipate the whirlwind of thoughts in my mind. “What? Leaving? Where?” I fired off the questions without giving her a chance to answer. “I thought you wanted to stay here, and that you hated cities—with all the crowds and buildings and?—”
Sylvie was leaving.
Sebastian was leaving.
Two of the most important people in my life were so driven by their passions, both the positive and the challenging, that they were leaving this place in search of what they truly wanted.
They had their reasons, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept.
