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“They did,” Wes affirmed. “But the Sheridans lived on that land for generations before that. Remember that we’re islanders deep in our blood. I remember my grandmother telling me about a terrible fire that almost destroyed the house where the Sunrise Cove Inn is today. It’s possible they built over the secret room without really knowing what they were leaving behind.”
This left everyone in the room speechless. The textures of time stood between them and the truth.
“I took several classes in law school about the legalities of historical sites,” Amanda said.
Wes brightened. “We’ll need your help every step of the way.”
Amanda smiled. To most of her family, she remained a lawyer, even if she no longer had a license to practice. The memory of that thudded darkly in her stomach. But she didn’t have time to deal with that now. There were secret rooms to explore. There was a baby to take care of. There was a wound between her legs that she needed to heal.
After Wes and Beatrice went home, Sam stepped outside to call the construction firm he’d hired to get more information about what they’d discovered and the next steps. Wes had said they worked with historians frequently.
This left Amanda and Genevieve alone with the Sheridan women: Audrey, Susan, Lola, and Christine. Mia was with Zach, and Max was with Noah, and both Audrey and Christine doted on Genevieve in the style of women who ached with recent memories of their babies.
“Before you know it, she’ll be putting everything she can find in her mouth,” Audrey warned.
“Enjoy every second of baby snuggles,” Christine said.
“It’ll be gone before you know it,” Lola agreed with a brief glance at Audrey, the only baby she’d ever had.
Amanda was struck with a sudden image of herself twenty-five years from now awaiting the birth of her grandchildren, holding Genevieve’s hand. She shook it out, smiled, and took Genevieve back in her arms, suddenly frightened of how quickly time could slip away.
Chapter Six
Wes and Beatrice returned home from the hospital and sat on the back porch with a pitcher of iced tea and their books. Beatrice was heavily into mysteries set in island locations like the Florida Keys or Orcas Island, and Wes liked to pretend to be a Sherlock Holmes’s type and speak in an English accent to say, “Elementary, my dear Watson!” Beatrice had told him several times that the mysteries she read were nothing like Sherlock Holmes, but he didn’t care. It made her laugh every time.
But they were too distracted to read this afternoon. Wes’s head was filled with questions about the secret room, and he scanned through his available memories for some clue from his grandmother. She’d died so long ago, and there was so much Wes didn’t know about her. As far as he knew, she’d kept no diaries. She’d been born in the early 1890s, had married his grandfather, had been instrumental in the building of the Sunrise Cove Inn after the fire, had had four children, and had died at the healthy age of eighty-two. She’d baked the very best chocolate chip cookies and played the flute. But what else did Wes really know about her? He’d been such a foolish boy. He should have asked her more questions.
“What are you thinking about?” Beatrice asked.
“What a foolish boy I was.”
Beatrice laughed and laced her fingers through his over the tabletop. “All boys are foolish.”
“No doubt.”
“What do you really think is behind that wall downstairs?” Beatrice asked.
Wes raised his shoulders. “It could be storage from the house that was there before the fire. Maybe I’ll learn more about my great-grandparents or the ones before them. But I keep trying to mentally prepare myself for it to be a whole lot of nothing. Maybe it used to have something that’s since been destroyed by time.”
Beatrice removed her reading glasses and studied him tenderly. “Or maybe it will be something incredible.”
One of the last cardinals of the year landed on a tree branch near the porch. Wes perked up and nodded so that Beatrice could see its sleek red coat before it flew away. They’d initially bonded over their love of birds, and they went birding all the time, engaging in the mysticisms of the natural world. Sometimes Wes still went with Kellan, Susan’s stepson. But Kellan attended college these days and didn’t have much time.
Wes opened his ledger to recount what had happened at the hospital today. To do this, he would probably have to look up how to spell Genevieve’s name again.
When he opened it, he saw the words: FRANK - YES - WEDDING.
“Oh! Frank Fish says he can come to the wedding,” Wes said.
Beatrice smiled. “I wondered about him. Did you get his RSVP?”
“He told me himself.”
Beatrice removed her phone and marked Frank as “yes” on the wedding app Charlotte had shown her how to use. Wes hated new-fangled technology, but Beatrice tended to welcome it. It was proof of her well-oiled brain working just fine compared to his.
“I showed you the plates Charlotte and I picked out, didn’t I?” Beatrice flipped her phone around to show off beautiful floral china and silverware with ornate details along the edges.
Wes took the phone and paid special attention to why Beatrice liked these particular plates; why they mattered. He’d been alone for too long not to understand that you had to care about what people you loved cared about. It was part of being in love.
