Frank pushed away thoughts of Seattle, focusing on his grandson’s hopeful expression. “Race you there?”
“I’m eight, not five,” Tommy said with exaggerated wisdom. Then grinned and took off, walking as fast as he dared in case Mrs. Chen told them off.
Frank caught up with him in the reading room, where sunlight streamed through tall windows overlooking the lake. This was why they’d stayed in Sapphire Bay. Tommy had found peace here after losing his parents. And Frank had found something he never had in Seattle—contentment.
“Did you know,” Tommy said around a mouthful of cookie, “that Mrs. Henderson let Mom hide in the bookstore when she was mad at you?”
Frank’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know that.”
Tommy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I found Mom’s old diary in the attic. She wrote about running away to the bookstore when she was thirteen because you wouldn’t let her go to some concert.”
Frank sifted through a lifetime’s worth of memories and remembered what had happened—Sarah’s door slamming, his panic when he couldn’t find her, the relief when Margaret Henderson called to say his daughter was safe, just cooling off in the poetry section.
“Your mom was pretty stubborn,” Frank said softly.
“Like me?”
“Like both of us.” He grabbed a cookie of his own. “Mrs. Henderson’s always been good at taking care of people who need a safe place to stay.”
His phone buzzed again. It was another text from Marcus.
The evidence is surfacing. Better to face it on your terms. Think about Tommy’s future.
Frank’s jaw clenched. Tommy’s future was exactly what he was protecting by avoiding the whole mess. Let the corporate lawyers and federal prosecutors fight it out. He’d given them enough to build their case five years ago.
“Is everything okay, Grandpa?” Tommy asked, proving he was too perceptive by half.
“Just work stuff.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. His remote consulting business was picking up. Local businesses were asking for contract reviews and basic legal advice. Simple, honest work that allowed him to use his skills without drawing attention to himself.
“Do you want to go back to the plant books, Grandpa?”
Frank smiled, grateful once again for having his grandson in his life. “Actually, I think we’ve earned a break. Want to walk down to the bookstore? We should say hello to Mrs. Henderson while we still can.”
Tommy brightened. “Can I buy a Rick Riordan book?”
“If Mrs. Henderson has any, you can,” Frank told him.
As they walked through town, Tommy chatted about Greek mythology, and Frank studied the buildings around them. Red-brick facades mingled with solid wood siding and large glass windows. Thankfully, Sapphire Bay had kept its old-world charm despite a huge influx of new homeowners and tourists.
When they reached the bookstore, Frank stopped to admire the green awning fluttering above the front door. The building needed a little maintenance, but the gold letters spelling out “Henderson’s Bookstore” were still as bright as ever in the afternoon sun.
Since they’d arrived in Sapphire Bay, it had been part of their Saturday morning ritual. Breakfast at the diner, a short trip to the library, then an hour of exploring the bookstore while Margaret slipped Tommy chocolate-covered peanuts. The ones she thought Frank didn’t know about.
Frank sighed. He couldn’t save the law firm he’d helped build. Couldn’t save his daughter- and son-in-law from the tragic accident that had taken their lives. But if Margaret needed his help, he could try to save this small piece of Sapphire Bay that had helped save them.
CHAPTER 3
Isabel smiled as she turned onto Lakeshore Drive. The late afternoon sun turned Sapphire Bay into a mirror of molten gold, just as she remembered.
Some things hadn’t changed—the way the mountains cupped the lake like protective hands, the scent of pine and wild roses drifting through her open window, and the flutter of excitement in her stomach as she approached Kathleen’s house.
Other things were different. As she’d driven through town, she looked for the bakery where they’d enjoyed the best donuts Isabel had ever tasted. But the old red-brick building was now a coffee shop. The general store had doubled in size, and she’d even seen a new fashion boutique and art gallery.
Lakeshore Drive was completely different, too. New homes dotted the shoreline where empty lots had been. A sign outside the basketball court announced the beginning of a park filled with children’s playground equipment.
But the most heart-wrenching difference was that she was arriving alone, without James’ steady presence beside her. Without his voice saying, “Look, sweetheart, they still haven’t fixed that crooked mailbox at number forty-two.”
The house she was looking for appeared around the corner on Bluewater Road. Kathleen's parents originally built it as a cottage, but after her marriage ended, they extended it and converted it into two townhouses.
