Her gaze settled on the door to Theodore’s office. She hadn’t changed a thing in there since he passed away. Each time she’d considered it, something had stopped her. But now, with the rest of the house in disarray, the time seemed right.
She pushed open the door and stepped inside. The room smelled musty, a combination of old books, leather, and something distinctly Theodore. The heavy mahogany desk dominated the space, his reading glasses still perched on top as if he might return any moment to continue reviewing papers.
It took her a moment to notice the damage. Water had seeped down from the ceiling in one corner, affecting the tall bookshelf that housed Theodore’s collection of maritime history and law books. Several volumes were visibly warped, their bindings rippled with water damage.
“Well, that settles it,” she said aloud to no one in particular. “No sense preserving ruined books.”
She located a few empty boxes in the hallway closet and brought them into the office. Starting with the damaged shelf, she began removing books, examining each one before placing it in a box. Some were beyond saving, but most were simply dust-covered and musty.
As she worked, she found herself wondering why she had preserved this room like a museum exhibit all these years. She’d kept everything exactly as he’d left it, right down to the half-empty cup of pencils on his desk.
“All these years,” she muttered, shaking her head. “What a waste of a perfectly good room.”
She continued methodically emptying the shelves, occasionally pausing to flip through a volume that caught her attention. A book on coastal navigation brought back memories of early marriage years when Theodore would take their boat out on weekends, hosting business associates. He’d never once offered a romantic cruise, just the two of them for some couple time together.
As she reached for a thick volume, a yellowed envelope slipped out and fluttered to the floor. She bent to retrieve it, her joints protesting slightly. Whoever it was addressed to was smeared and unreadable. She stuffed it in her pocket and continued her cleanup.
Each book now represented another piece of the past she could finally release. After filling three boxes with books for donation, she turned her attention to the desk.
The drawers were filled with Theodore’s papers. Old bills, correspondence, and boat maintenance records were filed in perfectly organized files. Most could go straight to recycling.
As she worked, her mind kept returning to Cliff. He’d been helping everyone in town since the hurricane, even helping coordinate the repairs to her house. So different from the self-centered behavior she’d expected from him. Perhaps she’d been wrong about his intentions for Magnolia Key as well.
Although, his development plans were still problematic for the town’s character. But seeing him pitch in after the storm, reconnecting with neighbors who’d known him since childhood, gave her hope that the boy she’d raised wasn’t completely lost beneath the businessman exterior.
By late afternoon, she had cleared most of Theodore’s office. The space looked larger without the overstuffed bookshelves, and sunlight streamed through the windows she’d cleaned. She stood in the center of the room, envisioning possibilities. Perhaps a sitting room where she could enjoy morning coffee while watching the birds in the backyard.
She felt lighter somehow, as if clearing the physical items had also cleared something inside her. This room had been a shrine to the past, to a marriage that had been filled with shattered expectations. Now it could become something new, something entirely hers.
“Mrs. Griffin?” Hank’s voice rang through the hallway.
“Back here,” she called out.
Hank appeared in the doorway. “We’re wrapping up for today.”
“Okay, thank you.”
“And, ma’am, you’ll be pleased to know we should be finished with the major repairs by Friday. You’ll be back home before you know it.”
And those were the words she’d been longing to hear.
After the workers left, to reward herself for a job well done, she headed to the kitchen to make a pot of tea. She put the teakettle on, enjoying the quiet and the space.
The letter in her pocket rustled slightly, and she took it out. Curious, she sat on a chair at the table and carefully opened the envelope.
Her breath caught as she read the words. “Oh, no.”
There was no reason Theodore should have had this letter unless… But she couldn’t believe he’d be that cruel. Though… maybe she *could* believe it.
She slowly folded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope. It was time for the intended recipient to get this letter. She got up and turned off the teakettle. The letter had been hidden too long to wait for her to sit and drink a cup of tea.
Beverly slid her plate onto the drying rack, enjoying the quiet of her cottage kitchen. After a long day at Coastal Coffee, the simple rhythm of washing dishes soothed her. She’d always found comfort in the ordinary tasks that kept her hands busy while her mind worked through tangled thoughts. And lately, her thoughts had been more snarled than usual.
The hurricane’s aftermath continued to keep everyone on Magnolia Key scrambling, but the community had pulled together beautifully. Her cafe had become a gathering spot again. And Cliff—well, Cliff had surprised her. His offer to fix her roof had been genuine, and he’d shown up with tools and materials, working alongside a couple of guys from his crew.
She’d avoided any deep conversation with him, keeping things strictly business. But Eleanor’s revelations about the night Cliff left the island had been playing on repeat in her mind.
The sharp knock at her front door startled her from her thoughts. She dried her hands on a dish towel and padded across the living room. Who would be visiting at this hour? Maxine usually called first.
