Brian gave directions, and twenty minutes later, they were pulling up to the gates of Circle Pond Gate Community.
Brian leaned forward and punched in a code on the keypad. The gates swung open with smooth, well-oiled precision.
The development was beautiful. Curved roads lined with mature trees, houses set back on generous lots, each one distinct but harmonious with its neighbors. The kind of place where people raised families and stayed for generations.
The pond sat in the center, exactly as the name promised, with a walking path circling it and benches positioned at intervals for people to sit and watch the ducks.
Brian directed them to a house on the left side of the circle, a charming two-story with pale blue siding and white trim. “That’s us,” he said.
An older woman stepped out onto the porch as they pulled into the driveway, her face lighting with curiosity and pleasure.
“Hello, and welcome!” she called as they climbed out of the car.
“Grandma, this is Lila and her Aunt Eve,” Brian said, making introductions. “They’re staying at the Christmas Inn.”
“How lovely,” Brian’s grandmother said, extending her hand. “I’m Daisy Norman. Please, come in. I just made cinnamon rolls.”
The house smelled like sugar and butter and cinnamon, warm and welcoming in a way that made Eve’s chest ache with nostalgia.
They settled around the kitchen table with coffee and rolls, and Daisy asked polite questions about their visit and how they were enjoying St. Augustine.
“This is such a beautiful community,” Eve said. “Have you lived here long?”
“Oh, forever,” Daisy said with a laugh. “My husband Earl and I were one of the first families to move in when William Moore built it. That was... oh, forty years ago now? Maybe more.”
“Would you mind showing us around?” Lila asked, her voice perfectly innocent. “I’d love to see the pond and the walking path.”
“Of course,” Daisy said, clearly pleased.
They bundled up and headed outside, Daisy leading them along the path that circled the pond.
She pointed out houses as they walked, sharing tidbits about the neighbors. The Hendersons, who’d raised four children here. The Parkers, who’d moved in fifteen years ago and transformed their yard into a showcase garden. The retired teacher who fed the ducks every morning at seven sharp.
William’s house came into view, a beautiful two-story colonial with dark green shutters and a wraparound porch.
“That’s William Moore’s place,” Daisy said. “Beautiful, isn’t it? But not ostentatious. He designed it to fit in with the neighborhood, not dominate it.”
Eve noted the house to the left of William’s. Their house. The Normans.
Then she looked to the right.
Another house sat there, similar in size and style to William’s but with pale yellow siding instead of white.
And beyond that, one more house.
Daisy had said something about every house between the Normans and that last house. But about these two houses on William’s right, she’d said nothing.
“What about that house?” Eve asked, pointing to it.
Daisy’s expression shifted. Just slightly. A tightening around her mouth.
Before she could answer, Brian spoke up. “Oh, that house has been empty since before I was born. Well, not empty. It belongs to William, and it gets cleaned and maintained two or threetimes a week, but as far as I know, no one has lived there since I can remember.”
Daisy looked decidedly uncomfortable with what Brian had just blurted out, setting off alarm bells in Eve’s head.
“Yes,” Daisy said carefully. “It used to belong to William’s nephew, who is no longer with us. William has never been able to let the house go.”
Bingo, Eve’s brain shouted.That must be the house Mia grew up in.She caught Lila’s eyes and saw the same realization reflected there.
