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Willow expected Andy to say something like don’t give up, or you’ll find her, or you were meant to be with your biological mother eventually!

But instead, he raised his eyes to her and said, “What if I told you I know who she is?”

At this, all the blood drained from Willow’s head and into her feet. “I beg your pardon?”

Andy’s lips were in a thin line. “I know who your mother is. I can lead you to her.”

At the ridiculousness of this, Willow tried to laugh, but she sensed that Andy was deathly serious. “I don’t understand.” She had half a mind to get up and run out of the wine bar. She had half a mind to scream, to draw the owner out from the back and get her to dial 911.

But something kept her there, quiet and seething. Maybe it was her aching desire to know who her mother was.

“If I lead you to her,” Andy said, stabbing his finger against the table, “you have to do something for me first.”

Willow’s vision was cloudy. She realized now that the breakfast meeting had been a setup, that somehow Andy had known where she would be and exactly how to manipulate her into this date. The question of why he’d waited this long to come out with the truth didn’t matter. It was here, loud, and she was terrified.

Perhaps sensing she couldn’t speak, Andy continued, “I have a client back in Boston. A very prominent client who wants to destroy the professional reputation of the man who’s purported to be your biological father.”

Willow flared her nostrils.

“It’s all a big political mess,” Andy said, waving his hand. “Everyone wants to be mayor. Everyone wants to be crowned king. But my client is especially fixated on beating your biological father. Apparently, they were friends once. Now, they’re enemies. I don’t know. It’s all boring rivalries and who has more money than whom. That’s the business of the elite, isn’t it?” He sipped his wine and showed red-tinged teeth. “I came to the island to try to get your mother to betray your father. But then, due completely to a chance encounter in a dark room of all places, I happened to find their daughter! Here on the island! In the flesh! For whatever reason—sealed documents and whatever else—I was never able to learn your name, nor who adopted you. But here you are! With me! It’s some of my best investigative work. But a bit of luck goes a long way.”

Willow’s eyes widened. Slowly, she got to her feet, then fell back into her chair again, as though her legs weren’t strong enough to keep her up.

“I’m not like Nathaniel Hawkins,” Andy said. “I’ve never been particularly lucky. I’ve had to fight tooth and nail for everything I have. I don’t regret that, mind you.”

“Do you think that lack of luck is because you’re a scheming rat? And nobody likes you?” Willow said through gritted teeth.

Andy laughed good-naturedly. “Many women before you have suggested that, yes. But Willow, you need to focus, because if you look at it the right way, you’ll see this is your lucky day, just as Nathaniel’s every day is lucky. You really are his daughter, after all. My client is willing to pay you enormous sums of money. Life-changing money. All you have to do is come out and announce who your parents are. After that, you and your mother can ride into the sunset together, and Nathaniel will have to deal with the fallout.”

Willow wet her lips, unable to speak. Andy leaned toward her.

“Don’t tell me you want to spend the rest of your life doing music therapy,” Andy said. “You want to be a real musician. You want to have enough time and money to practice and make a real run at the classical music world. The money my client is willing to give you will more than cover that. With it, you can get a better apartment in Boston. You can take your biological mother on vacation so you two can bond. I don’t know.” He drained the rest of his wine.

At this, Willow shot to her feet. She would not be paid to destroy a man’s life, least of all Nathaniel Hawkins’s life and his mayoral campaign. Although their relationship was clearly complex, she knew his campaign was best for Bostonians. She knew, somehow, deep down, that he had a good heart, even if he’d given her away. Even if he’d pretended she never existed. He was still the best shot the city had at a brighter future.

“Think about this logically, Willow,” Andy said, reaching into the pocket of his jean jacket and handing her a business card. It read: Harry Orlett - Investigative Journalist.

Willow took it, hating herself.

“Harry?”

“Oh, yeah. Obviously, I lied about my name,” Harry said, shrugging. “Let me pay for your wine. And call me when you’re ready to talk. My client is waiting. As am I.”

Willow stormed out of there, her legs shaking, her thoughts thrashing. She felt like a fool. She remembered, as she stormed back to the bed-and-breakfast, that Harry had said he’d stumbled into her in a dark room. Like for photographs? She thought about the man she’d met at the harbor, the one who’d taken her photograph, the one who’d seemed so kind.

When she returned to the bed-and-breakfast, she fought her instinct to storm up to the owner and ask whether the kitchen had really been down that morning or if Harry had given them a wad of cash to send her to the Sunny Oak. As she whisked past, the owner whistled and said, “A little bird tells me that you’re falling in love here on the island! You know, we’re always looking for wonderful new additions to our island! We’d love to have you here year-round.”

Willow gaped at the woman, realizing that Harry had, in fact, paid her off. But he’d told her that he wanted to arrange a meet-cute so that he could ask her out on a date. Her stomach roiled. Everyone wanted everyone else to fall in love. Meanwhile, she was motherless and alone.

16

Two mornings after Nathaniel had come to the bakery to see Rose, Rose received a call. It was from Eleanor Pike.

Through the speaker, Eleanor sounded older than she ever had, as though all this intrigue and lying had caught up with her. “Rose, darling,” she said. “I want to tell you that Nathaniel Hawkins has been called back to Boston. He has something of an emergency relating to his campaign, if you know what I mean, darling. He had to leave Nantucket immediately. He won’t be bothering you anymore.”

Rose sat on a stool in the bakery kitchen and closed her eyes. She’d told Eleanor to fix this, to keep Nathaniel away from Rose and Maxine, and somehow, Eleanor had arranged something. She’d pulled a few strings, as she always could. “Thank you,” Rose said flatly. She bit her tongue to keep herself from saying, “It's the least you could do after what you promised me.”

“What about that journalist?” Rose asked then, thinking again of Harry Orlett, whom she hadn’t seen sniffing around in a little while. But she sensed he was still out there, lurking, biding his time. “I want him off the island, too.”