She thought about Willa’s phone call letting her know that Ace would be coming to stay, as he had another run, and that while he was here, he would stop in to see his grandmother, who was in a specialist care home in Miami. June loved Ace like he was her own son. The moment she’d met him when Willa had started training as a firefighter, she’d been impressed with him. Ace was Shaun’s best friend and was training as a firefighter. He was also a fully qualified pilot and had been accepted into the Air Force to become a fighter pilot. But he’dbeen medically disqualified during his final physical due to color vision deficiency—something that had never affected his civilian flying but was considered too risky for military aviation. Devastated but determined, he’d channeled his passion for flying into firefighting aviation, becoming one of the region’s most skilled pilots for water bombing, medical evacuations, and fire reconnaissance flights.
Ace, having lost his parents at a young age and been raised by his grandmother, knew and understood what June and Willa were going through. He’d made sure they were both okay and had become a regular at their family get-togethers. Then, two years ago, his grandmother, who was a local of Sandpiper Shores, got ill and needed specialized care. Carmen had managed to get her into a special home that could help her. Ace, who flew to get medical, fire, and other supplies for Sandpiper Shores, flew to Miami often and stayed with them. While he was here, he always visited his grandmother. When he wasn’t here, both June and Carmen visited Olive McKenna at least once a week.
June made another mental note to ask Carmen’s assistant and bakery manager, Greta, to visit Olive while they were away.
By the time June reached the master bedroom, she’d lost track of time completely. The curtains here were particularly challenging, a custom silk blend that required delicate handling. She was so focused on a stubborn wrinkle near the top hem that she didn’t notice the shakiness in her hands until the steam cleaner wobbled dangerously.
June paused, setting the machine down carefully.When had her hands started trembling? And why did she feel so lightheaded all of a sudden?
A glance at the bedside clock made her heart sink. It was after one in the afternoon. She’d been working for over three hours without stopping for food, water, or the medication she was supposed to take with lunch. No wonder she felt unsteady.
The kitchen seemed like it was at the end of a long tunnel as June made her way downstairs. Her legs felt unreliable, and there was a strange buzzing in her ears that hadn’t been there that morning. She needed food, fluids, and her pills in that order.
The doorbell rang just as June reached the kitchen, its cheerful chime echoing through the house. She changed direction toward the front door, gripping the wall as she navigated the marble foyer. Standing on her doorstep was Greta Ilna, Carmen’s bakery manager, holding a large insulated bag and wearing a concerned expression.
“Hi,” Greta greeted her, her slight accent making the simple word musical. “Carmen asked me to bring these for you.” She held up the bag with one hand while digging into a larger tote with the other. “Some iced tea and those lemon bars you like so much. And...” She produced a white container with familiar Chinese takeout markings. “Some lunch from Golden Dragon.”
“Oh, you’re a lifesaver,” June groaned, her mouth watering as the smell of sweet and sour pork reached her. Her stomach responded with a loud growl that made both women laugh. “I’ve been so busy I completely forgot about eating.”
“I would have been here sooner,” Greta explained as they moved toward the kitchen, “but I’m training two new staff members, and the lunch rush was crazy today. That new food blogger gave us a five-star review last week, and we’ve been swamped ever since.”
“Carmen must be thrilled,” June said, though the words felt like they were coming from very far away. The kitchen kept sliding in and out of focus, and the buzzing in her ears was getting louder.
“June?” Greta’s voice seemed to echo strangely. “Are you feeling alright?”
June tried to answer, tried to explain that she just needed to sit down for a minute, but the words wouldn’t come. The world started to spin slowly, then faster, and a gray fog began creeping in from the edges of her vision.
“I...” June looked up at Greta, whose eyes had gone wide with alarm. “I don’t feel too good.”
The marble floor rushed up to meet her as consciousness slipped away.
Two hours later, June sat in the hospital cafeteria with a cup of what could only generously be called tea, waiting for Carmen to come collect her. The liquid in her cup was brown and hot, but it bore no resemblance to any tea she’d ever tasted. Even loaded with cream and sugar, it remained stubbornly bitter and medicinal.
The bruise on her temple throbbed as June gingerly touched it, a reminder of how her head had connected with the foyer floor when she’d collapsed. She couldn’t believe how foolish she’d been. What had started as a simple task to prepare for Ace’s visit had turned into an hours-long cleaning marathon that had left her dehydrated, hypoglycemic, and unconscious on her own floor.
Thank goodness for Greta’s quick thinking and June’s neighbor, Ed Patterson. The retired neurosurgeon had been working in his garden when Greta had come running over, babbling in rapid-fire English and Spanish about Mrs. Carter collapsing. Ed had calmly assessed June for serious injury before allowing Greta to move her to the car, then followed them to the hospital to make sure she received proper care.
June would have to stop by with flowers and a thank-you note once she was feeling better. The thought of facing Ed’s knowing look was almost as mortifying as the idea of Carmen’s impending lecture about taking things easy.
She’d tried to rest, really she had. But there was only so much lounging by the pool a person could do before boredom set in. She’d even gotten a decent tan from all her forced relaxation, something Trevor would have teased her about since she usually lived in her office.
The memory of her failed attempts to drive made June’s stomach clench with embarrassment. Carmen had left her car keys behind, encouraging June to try short trips around the neighborhood when she felt ready. But the moment June had settled behind the steering wheel, the memories had crashed over her like a wave. The sudden impact, the sound of crushing metal, the taste of blood in her mouth. She’d made it out of the garage before panic overtook her completely, leaving her shaking and nauseated in the driveway.
The taxi experiment had been even worse. She’d managed to call for a ride to the grocery store, but when the yellow cab pulled into her driveway, June had barely made it to the back seat before claustrophobia hit like a physical blow. She’d scrambled out so quickly that she’d nearly fallen, pressing a fifty-dollar bill into the confused driver’s hand before fleeing back to the safety of her house.
At least she’d been unconscious when Greta had driven her here. That was one car ride she didn’t have to remember.
June was contemplating whether the brown liquid in her cup was actually worse than no caffeine at all when a young man walked into the cafeteria. The cup slipped from her suddenly nerveless fingers, clattering against the saucer.
The man was tall, probably in his early thirties, with dark hair and blue eyes and features that were heartbreakingly familiar. For a moment, June felt like she was looking at a ghost, or perhaps a time traveler who’d stepped out of her memories of Cambridge thirty-eight years ago.
Her pulse hammered in her throat as she stared at him, taking in the strong jaw, the way he carried himself, the unconscious confidence that radiated from his posture. It was impossible. It had to be impossible. But the resemblance was so striking that June felt dizzy all over again.
“There you are.” Carmen’s voice cut through her stunned paralysis, and June reluctantly tore her gaze away from the young man to focus on her sister.
“Hi,” June managed, her voice sounding strangely hoarse to her own ears. She turned back toward where the man had been standing, but he was gone, vanished into the crowd of hospital staff and visitors as if he’d never existed at all.
Did she imagine him?June blinked hard, wondering if the head injury was causing hallucinations.Or was her guilty conscience finally manifesting in physical form?
