“I do.” Harper removed a small album from her handbag. In the first sleeve was the photo of a woman, so beautiful, like a movie star from her old magazines with long hair fluttering in the wind, her bare feet covered in sand.
Isadore smoothed her fingers over the plastic. “She’s at the ocean.”
“Redondo Beach,” Harper explained. “She moved to Los Angeles when she was eighteen and eventually found a job near Santa Barbara where she lived for the rest of her life.”
The joy, pure delight of her daughter in California, wiggled itself all the way down to her toes. It was the best place in the world for her girl.
Peter leaned over. “She looks like you, Izzy.”
Harper turned the page to a photo of an adult Greta beside a radiant girl, standing hand in hand by an old wagon wheel. “That was taken at Knott’s Berry Farm.”
“She had a daughter?” Isadore asked slowly.
“Yes.” Harper hovered by her shoulder, looking down at the photograph. “That’s me.”
“You?” Isadore echoed in a haze.
“It is.”
“You’re Greta’s girl?”
When Harper nodded, Isadore glanced at her husband. “Peter—”
“It’s all good, honey.”
“I don’t deserve this.”
He kissed her cheek. “God’s grace.”
Isadore studied the woman beside her. Her tousled chestnut hair, emerald-green eyes that seemed lost in her story. Much like Greta in the photograph.
“Her daughter.” She folded her hands to her chest. “And my grand-girl.”
The smile on Harper’s lips set her eyes ablaze.
“This is marvelous.” Isadore reached for her hand. “Just marvelous.”
“You must meet Jim,” Peter said. “Your uncle. He’s done well for himself.”
“Where does he work?” Finn asked.
“He owns a paper supply chain.”
Harper blinked several times as if trying to process that news. “Delve Paperworks?”
“The very one,” Isadore said, pleased that she knew. “He and Peter partnered with the Elms paper mill until the mill went out of business. Then Jim expanded their company around the world.”
Isadore released Harper’s hand and stood carefully. She’d spent most of her life protecting her family from an enemy that was probably long gone. And she’d cared for Olivia who, after their escape from Haven House, quickly became like an aunt to her and Jim.
Thankfully, she didn’t need to protect them anymore. “Wait here, please.”
“I’ll help,” Peter said, knowing well her intentions.
It didn’t take them long to locate the first cardboard box in the storage room. With Finn’s help, they carried it to the coffee table.
“Open it,” she told their guests.
Finn nodded at Harper, a smile on his lips. Maybe love hadn’t blossomed quite yet, but the way Eli’s grandson looked at her, like he was testing the waters, Isadore suspected it wouldn’t be long before they both dove in.
