“It’s looking more possible,” Frank admitted, the words heavy on his tongue. “Nothing definitive yet, but there’s a pattern. Sterling goes after people who threaten them.”
“Oh, Frank. I’m so sorry.”
The sincerity in her voice threatened to undo him. “I’ve suspected it for a long time,” he said quietly. “But suspecting and knowing are different things.”
“What will you tell Tommy?”
Frank glanced at his grandson, still blissfully asleep. “Nothing yet. Maybe never if we can’t prove it conclusively. He’s dealt with enough trauma.”
“I understand,” Isabel said softly. “You’re protecting him. You always do.”
“I try,” Frank said, his voice rough with emotion. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ve done enough. If I could have prevented any of this if I’d made different choices.”
“Don’t do that to yourself,” Isabel said firmly. “You couldn’t have known what Sterling was capable of. You did what was right and stood up to them.”
Frank closed his eyes, letting her certainty wash over him. “When did you get to be so wise?”
“I’m sixty-five, Frank,” she reminded him with a gentle laugh. “I’ve had time to practice.”
They talked for a while longer, Isabel telling him about the maple tree in the backyard of her new house, Frank sharing Tommy’s latest chess victory against Agent Ramirez. The conversation flowed easily between them, as if they’d known each other for years instead of months.
“William’s giving me the signal to wrap up,” Frank said reluctantly when the agent appeared in the doorway, tapping his watch.
“Are you able to call me tomorrow?” Isabel asked.
“Same time,” Frank promised. “Isabel, I—” He stopped, acutely aware of William’s presence and Tommy sleeping beside him. There were words he wanted to say, words that deserved better than a monitored phone call from a safe house.
“I know,” she said simply, as if she could hear his thoughts across the distance. “Me too, Frank.”
After they hung up, Frank sat in the quiet living room, the phone still clutched in his hand. Tommy stirred, blinking awake.
“Was that Isabel?” he asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes.
Frank nodded. “She says hello. She just moved into her new house today.”
Tommy sat up, suddenly more alert. “The one with the big porch and the bookshelves? Can we see it when we get back?”
“I’m sure Isabel would like that,” Frank said, smiling at his grandson’s enthusiasm.
“Good,” Tommy declared, yawning widely. “I hope there’s enough room for my books.”
Frank’s eyebrows rose. “Isabel has a lot of books, too.”
Tommy nodded. “She said I could make a special place for mine.”
“You’re very lucky,” Frank told him. “But, for now, it’s bedtime. For real this time, not just napping on the couch.”
As he tucked Tommy into bed a few minutes later, Frank thought about Isabel and how she made it so easy to love her. Then he remembered something his wife used to say. When you love someone, you tell them. Theresa had always been confident and unafraid to share her emotions.
Frank had been more cautious, especially after Theresa died. Opening himself to that kind of vulnerability again had seemed impossible—until he’d met Isabel. With her, the risk suddenly felt worth taking. And maybe she might feel the same way by the time they returned to Sapphire Bay.
CHAPTER 42
Isabel stood another four books on the display shelves in front of the sales counter. Later today, they were having another author talk, this time from a high school student who wrote young adult fantasy novels.
She couldn’t wait to hear what he had to say, and neither could a lot of people, given the number of phone calls and emails she’d received.
The bell above the door chimed, and she glanced up, expecting to see Lynda. Instead, she froze, the book in her hands nearly slipping from her fingers.
