“I promise,” Patrick said solemnly. “Your mother will never have to wonder where I stand or how I feel about her. I’ve learned too much about the value of love and family to take either for granted again.”
As Natalie prepared to leave, she turned back one more time. “Welcome to the family, Patrick. Officially, I mean. We’ve been hoping you’d stay in Sapphire Bay.”
As her truck disappeared down the road, Patrick returned to his work with renewed purpose. The security system would protect Kathleen’s house and preserve Florence Buckley’s legacy. But more importantly, he was building something that mattered—a future with the woman he loved in a place where they both belonged.
Chapter 27
The morning sun shone through the café as Kathleen wiped down the coffee machine, her movements automatic after years of practice. The rhythmic motions had become second nature, freeing her mind to think about the next stage in her renovations.
She glanced at the clock. It was only eight-thirty, but already the café was filling with the usual morning crowd. Mrs. Henderson sat at her corner table with her newspaper, and Bob Patterson had claimed his spot at the counter with his black coffee and blueberry muffin. The familiar sounds of conversation and clinking cutlery created a comforting backdrop as Kathleen moved between tables, refilling coffee cups and sharing pleasantries.
The morning felt wonderfully normal after the intensity of recent weeks. Percy’s careful documentation of the historical find, the excitement of involving the Smithsonian, and the weight of keeping such a significant discovery quiet had left her feeling drained. Today, she was grateful for the simple routine of serving coffee and pastries to neighbors and friends.
She was arranging fresh sandwiches in the display case when the café door burst open. Every head in the café turned toward the entrance as Isabel rushed in, her face flushed and her breathing labored as if she’d been running.
“Kathleen!” Isabel’s voice carried across the suddenly quiet café, drawing curious stares from the morning customers. Her usually composed friend looked disheveled, her gray hair escaping from its neat bun and her jacket hanging askew.
“Isabel, what’s wrong?” Kathleen abandoned the sandwiches and hurried toward her friend. In all the years she’d known her, Isabel had always been the calm, collected one among their group—the voice of reason who handled crises with quiet efficiency.
Isabel pulled Kathleen into the kitchen and held up her phone. “Have you looked at the community Facebook page this morning?”
A cold knot formed in Kathleen’s stomach. She’d been so focused on getting the café ready for the day that she hadn’t checked her phone. “No, I haven’t. What’s happened?”
“Mabel.” Isabel’s voice was tight with frustration. “She posted a story about Florence Buckley.”
Kathleen’s mouth dropped open. “What do you mean?” Kathleen whispered, though she could already guess.
Isabel’s fingers shook as she found the post. “She’s calling it ‘breaking news from Percy,’ and she’s told everyone about Florence and her aunt. Everything, Kathleen. About how they protected unmarried, pregnant women, how they gave them new identities, all of it.”
Kathleen’s vision blurred as she stared at the screen. Mabel had even used capital letters to give the post extra emphasis.
“BREAKING NEWS from our local historian Percy! The AMAZING discovery at Kathleen Armstrong’s Victorian house reveals a SECRET NETWORK that helped unmarried mothers escape shame and build new lives! Florence Buckley and her aunt Miriam ran an UNDERGROUND RAILROAD for pregnant women, providing medical care and FALSE DOCUMENTS to give them fresh starts as ‘widows’!”
The post continued for several paragraphs. It detailed every aspect of their discovery, even though Percy wasn’t supposed to say anything. Mabel mentioned the hidden room, the medical instruments, the carefully preserved baby clothes, and even discussed how many women Florence could have helped over the years. At the bottom, she’d added: “Stay tuned for more details as Percy continues his research into this INCREDIBLE piece of our local history!”
“Oh no,” Kathleen breathed, her legs suddenly weak. “This can’t be happening.”
Isabel moved closer, lowering her voice but unable to hide her agitation. “It gets worse. Look at the comments.”
Kathleen scrolled down with growing horror. The post had been up for less than an hour, but already dozens of people had commented. Some expressed amazement and pride in their town’s hidden history, but others were asking pointed questions about the location of the house and when historical tours might be available.
Three different people had tagged friends who were “interested in genealogy” and “would love to know more.” Someone named Jennifer Walsh had commented: “My great-great-grandmother disappeared from our family records around 1890. I wonder if she could have been one of the women Florence helped?”
“This is exactly what we were worried about,” Kathleen said, her voice barely audible. Their plan to work with the Smithsonian was crumbling before her eyes.
“Twenty-three shares already,” Isabel said grimly, taking back her phone. “It’s going to spread beyond Sapphire Bay within hours.”
Kathleen closed her eyes, trying to think through the panic that was rising in her chest. The foundation work on the house was finished, but there were still construction materials scattered around the property. Although the security system had been installed, the hidden room hadn’t been properly secured, and the historical documents remained vulnerable. If curiosity seekers and amateur treasure hunters started showing up, they could damage or destroy irreplaceable pieces of history.
“I have to call Percy,” she said, already reaching for her phone. “I need to know why he told Mabel about this.”
Isabel nodded. “I’ll call Chloe, Lynda, and Susan. They’ll want to know what’s happening.”
Kathleen’s hands shook as she found Percy’s number and pressed dial. The phone rang once, twice, three times before Percy’s familiar voice answered, sounding uncharacteristically frazzled.
“Kathleen, I was just about to call you. I assume you’ve seen?—”
“Percy, what were you thinking?” The words came out sharper than she’d intended. She lowered her voice, but couldn’t keep the distress out of it. “We agreed to keep this quiet until the Smithsonian had finished cataloguing everything. How could you tell Mabel?”
