“Are you sure?” Becky asked, her eyes wide.
“I’m sure,” Ace told her. “They’d be recognized immediately in a town this size. On top of that, they’ve got the FBI and multiple law enforcement agencies actively looking for them. Coming back here would be the worst possible decision they could make.”
Becky absorbed that with a nod, indicating she was filing it away and deciding whether to accept it as sufficient reassurance.
“Why don’t we go and get some of Margo’s caramel pie before it disappears?” Willa suggested, her eyes moving across her three children with the quiet, practical warmth of a mother who understood when what people needed most was something ordinary to do.
“I’m in,” Ace said.
All three kids laughed, and the sound of it moved through the morning air like something that had been waiting for permission to arrive.
They walked together toward the refreshments table, and Ace was aware of it in the way he’d been increasingly aware of things lately, the particular fit of this, the specific rightness of moving through a crowd with these four people and having it feel like the most natural arrangement in the world.
The last of the guilt Ace had been carrying for longer than he’d admitted to anyone moved through him quietly and then settled into something he recognized as peace.
From the corner of his eye, something flickered.
Ace’s heart slammed hard against his ribs before his rational mind could intercept it. For one fraction of a second, at the very edge of his peripheral vision, he could’ve sworn he saw Shaun standing at the treeline. Not frightening. Not dramatic. Just standing there the way Shaun had always stood when he was watching something he was pleased about, with that particular, contained satisfaction that had always been his specific version of joy.
Then it was gone.
Ace blinked. He kept walking. He kept his expression exactly where it needed to be.
But now he was convinced that he was absolutely, definitely losing his mind.
“There are my favorite grandchildren,” Dean’s voice carried warmly from behind the refreshments table, where he’d apparently installed himself on the serving side alongside Margo and a handful of her staff.
“We’re your only grandchildren, Gramps,” Grace replied, rolling her eyes with the affectionate exasperation she reserved exclusively for Dean. “I’d like caramel pie with a?—”
“Pile of vanilla whipped cream,” Dean finished for her, already reaching for the serving spoon with the ease of someone who had been paying attention for years.
“How did you know?” Grace grinned.
“Because you’ve been ordering the same thing since you were four years old,” Dean replied. He looked at Andy, then at Becky, then at Ace with a raised eyebrow and a knowing expression. “I’m guessing the same goes for you three?”
“Yup,” they chorused.
Margo appeared beside Dean with a plate of caramel pie and ice cream that she held out to Willa without a word.
Willa accepted it with a smile. “Thank you.”
“I made it this morning,” Margo replied simply. “I know it’s your favorite.”
The group expanded naturally as Rad and Tyler arrived, followed by Lucy, Noah, Ginny, Katey, and Zoe. The teenagers peeled away toward each other with the magnetic efficiency of young people finding their own orbit, and the adults settled at one of the tables set out near the refreshments, plates in hand, the conversation moving through the morning with the easy, careful warmth of people who’d just been through something significant together and were finding their way back to ordinary ground.
“It was a good ceremony,” Lucy said quietly.
“It was,” Margo agreed. “It felt right this year. Different from before.”
“It felt complete,” Willa replied.
They were quiet for a moment, each of them holding that.
Noah leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to the register that people used in Sandpiper Shores when they wanted to say something without advertising it to anyone passing within earshot. “Are Holt and June any closer to finding them?” His eyes moved to Rad.
Rad shook his head. “Not yet. They thought the Miami lead would pan out. Someone had booked June’s property there for a couple of months, paying cash upfront.” He picked up his coffee. “But it turned out to be a family whose house is being renovated. They needed somewhere for a few months and found the listing online.”
“Another dead end,” Ginny said.
