A Message From My Future Husband Set Him Free—So Did I Chapter 10
Two months after the ferry line opened, my bed and breakfast went viral online.
It started with a blog post, one of the first tourists wrote a long article, and it spread fast.
A few travel influencers reposted it.
Then more bloggers. More articles.
People booked the new ferry line just to try my signature coffee.
Others came on Wednesdays, hoping to see the handsome repair guy everyone was talking about online.
Someone posted a picture of Julian. The comments were all asking if he was single.
My rooms were booked solid a week in advance.
I rented the yard next door and turned it into four more rooms.
Grandma Mae moved her fish stall from the dock to the village entrance. She set up a tarp for shade. Her business got so good that her son quit his job in Harlow and came back to help.
One evening, Grandma Mae sat in my café, counting the day’s earnings. She counted three times.
“Little Rose, I’ve never seen this much money in my whole life.”
She stacked the bills and put them in a tin box. Then she looked at me.
“Could you teach me how to do it? Run a shop? I want to open a seafood store for my son. Sell dried fish, shrimp, squid strips. But I only know how to sell fresh fish. I don’t know anything about business.”
The next day, Chet showed up, then Rick, whose wife ran the local diner, then Joe, who loaded freight at the dock.
They filled up all three tables in my café. “Little Rose, teach us.”
“I don’t know how,” I said, feeling stuck.
They stared at me.
“I know how to run one shop. But I don’t know anything about business on a bigger scale.”
The wind chime on the door jingled.
Julian stood in the doorway, holding a stack of papers. He walked in and put them on the table.
“Grandma Mae’s seafood shop, Chet’s repair service, Joe’s freight company.” He spread the papers out one by one. “Business license applications. Lease templates. Startup budget sheets.”
Grandma Mae picked up one of the papers, turning it over in her hands.
“Julian, what does this say?”
“Everything you need to open your store.” He crouched down to her eye level.
“This blank is for your business name. This one is for what you’re selling. This one is for how much money you’re starting with.”
Grandma Mae put the paper down, looking helpless. “I can’t read.”
“I’ll fill it out for you.” He picked up a pen. Grandma Mae talked, and he wrote.
In that moment, I noticed something different about him.
One day, I walked by the dock.
Grandma Mae’s seafood shop was being renovated. Julian was crouched in front of it, drilling holes in the wall with a power drill.
He looked completely focused. His gray shirt was soaked with sweat.
Grandma Mae stood next to him, holding a glass of water. “Julian, take a break. Have some water.”
He glanced back and smiled. “After I finish this hole.”
Dust drifted down from the wall, landing on his shoulders. He squinted and pushed the drill bit forward.
I stood under a tree and watched him. He didn’t see me.
That evening, I sat on the second floor of my bed and breakfast by the window.
The tide was coming in. The water sparkled like scattered gold.
Julian was downstairs fixing an old generator. Parts were spread all over the ground.
I looked down from the window. His hair was damp with sweat.
He suddenly looked up.
Through the second-floor window, he saw me.
We just looked at each other.
Three months after the resort opened, the number of businesses on the island had grown to twenty.
My bed and breakfast was so busy I had to rent another yard.
One evening, a young couple walked past my garden.
The girl tilted her head back to look at a coconut palm. “That’s so tall.”
The boy said, “Has to be thirty feet at least.”
The girl stood on her toes and reached up. “I couldn’t even touch a leaf if I jumped.”
The boy laughed. “Don’t bother jumping. You still wouldn’t reach.”
I watched them from the window, laughing and shoving each other.
I suddenly remembered a time when I used to laugh and play with someone like that.
But after one betrayal too many, I stopped.
On this island, I learned to stand under a tree by myself, tilting my head back, watching the sun slip through the leaves.