“What about Isabel?” Frank asked, his heart rate quickening.
“Our agents are still in position. No approaches so far.” William paused. “She went to look at a house today with a realtor. Maple Street property. We had someone follow discreetly to be safe.”
Frank absorbed the information and felt nothing but relief. Isabel was house hunting—making permanent plans to stay in Sapphire Bay. She wasn’t letting fear dictate her choices, and he was so proud of her for that.
“Frank? You still there?”
“Yeah,” he said, pulling himself back to the conversation. “Any updates on the trial schedule?”
“That’s actually the other reason I called. Judge Harmon has agreed to expedite things. The new start date is three weeks from Monday.”
Frank sat up straighter. “That’s two weeks earlier than planned.”
“The prosecution pushed for it after the shooting incident. She argued that witness safety was at risk with delays.” William sounded pleased. “It’s a good development, Frank. The sooner we get you on the stand, the sooner this is over.”
After finishing the call, Frank stood at the window, staring out at the unfamiliar yard. Three more weeks until the trial began. Maybe five or six weeks total before he and Tommy could return to Sapphire Bay—to their home, to Isabel.
If Sterling’s people were still looking for them, still willing to take shots in the dark, those weeks would feel like an eternity.
Tommy appeared in the doorway, math workbook in hand. “Are we in trouble again?”
Frank turned, forcing a smile. “No, buddy. Actually, it’s good news. The trial’s starting sooner than we thought.”
“So we can go home faster?” Tommy’s face brightened.
“That’s the plan.” Frank crossed to him, checking his math problems with an approving nod. “You got them all right. How about we go back to the kitchen and have a break?”
As Tommy happily dunked a cookie in milk, Frank made a decision. Tomorrow, he would ask William about setting up a more secure way to communicate with Isabel. This limbo of brief, guarded calls wasn’t enough.
Not when, against all odds and expectations, he was falling in love again.
CHAPTER 37
Isabel stood in the center of the empty living room, sunlight streaming through bay windows that overlooked a small, overgrown garden. The house on Maple Street was smaller than she’d expected, but somehow that made it feel more right.
“The previous owners maintained the original hardwood floors throughout,” Denise Wilson said, her heels clicking against the oak planks as she moved through the space. “And as you can see, the fireplace is in excellent condition.”
Isabel nodded, but the window seat beneath the bay window caught her attention. It was deep enough to curl up with a book and wide enough for two people to sit comfortably. She could imagine herself there on winter evenings, watching the snow fall over Sapphire Bay while a fire crackled nearby.
“The kitchen’s through here,” Denise continued, leading her through a wide doorway. “It’s a little dated, but all the appliances are in working order.”
The kitchen was definitely from another era. It had warm oak cabinets and laminate countertops that were probably stylish in the 1980s. But it was clean and well-maintained, with a largewindow over the sink that looked out onto a flowering crab apple tree.
“I like it,” Isabel said, surprising herself. “It has character.”
Denise smiled, clearly relieved. “It does, doesn’t it? And there’s plenty of space if you ever want to update it. The sunroom is just through that door. It’s what most people fall in love with.”
As they stepped into the sunroom, Isabel immediately understood why. Floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides created a space that felt almost like being outdoors but with the comfort of shelter. Pale green paint on the ceiling gave the impression of dappled shade, and built-in bookshelves lined the one solid wall.
“Oh,” she breathed, unable to hide her reaction.
“I know,” Denise said softly. “It’s special, isn’t it?”
Isabel touched one of the bookshelves, imagining it filled with her favorite novels. “It’s perfect.”
They continued through the rest of the house. There were two bedrooms upstairs, a study that could serve as a third bedroom, and a surprisingly spacious bathroom with a vintage claw-foot tub. Each room revealed another detail that caught Isabel’s imagination: Art Deco light fixtures, a built-in cabinet in the upstairs hallway, and window seats in both bedrooms.
Back downstairs, Isabel stood in the living room again, trying to process her feelings. The house needed work—paint, some updates to the electrical system, a thorough cleaning of the gardens—but nothing about those tasks daunted her. Instead, she felt a surprising eagerness to begin.
