By the time we pull into the marina parking lot the sun is high and hot on the back of my neck. The Jeep's top is down and the wind’s been whipping through the cabin the whole drive. Sadie sits with her hair tied back, one hand resting on the console between us, quietly closing a gap I didn’t realize was there. I park near the docks and we walk toward the restaurant. It’s all glass and dark wood, modern lines that stand out against the older buildings around it. Yachts bob in their slips beyond the outdoor seating area. People in bright summer clothes move along the boardwalk. The sound of water lapping against hulls mixes with distant laughter and the soft thump of music from somewhere down the row.
Brooke and Melissa are already at a high-top table on the patio when we arrive. Melissa waves us over with a bright smile. She’s dressed in something short and tight, sunglasses pushed up into her hair. Brooke looks more relaxed in a sundress, but her eyes are sharp as she watches us approach.
I keep my arm around Sadie's waist because the cover demands it and because I want the excuse. The feel of her warm through the thin fabric of her top sends the usual spark through me. I keep my hand there as we reach the table.
"Ladies," I say with the easy charm that usually disarms people. "Thanks for making time. This place looks like it’s trying too hard to be cool."
Melissa laughs and leans forward, already scanning the bar inside. "It’s the new hot spot. Victor spent a fortune on it. The bartenders are easy on the eyes too."
We order a round of drinks and some appetizers. The conversation starts light. Regattas coming up, the latest gossip from the club. I keep one eye on Sadie, the way she steers the talk toward Victor without forcing it.
"So this Victor," she says to Brooke after a while. "Everyone keeps mentioning him as if he runs the town from behind the scenes. What’s his deal exactly?"
Brooke opens her mouth but Melissa is already sliding off her stool. "I’m going to get us another round. The bartender today is the cute one."
She saunters inside, hips swaying, and plants herself at the bar. Within seconds she’s leaning over the counter, laughing too loud, touching the young guy's arm every time he says something. The flirting is obvious and loud. I exchange a glance with Sadie. She raises an eyebrow in that easy way that says she sees it too.
Brooke watches her friend for a moment then turns back to us. Her voice drops a little. "Melissa has... an open arrangement with her marriage. Tom knows. Or at least he pretends not to know. She sleeps around. It’s not exactly a secret around here."
Sadie keeps her expression neutral but I can feel the shift in her posture under my hand. She’s processing, filing it away. "And Victor?" she asks carefully. "Is he part of that arrangement?"
Brooke hesitates, then nods once. "There are rumors. She’s been seen with him a few times. Late nights at the club, that kind of thing. But Victor is older. Sixties, maybe. Salt and pepper, still handsome in that distinguished way. He craves the attention. And Melissa likes the power that comes with it."
Sadie leans in, voice casual but I know she’s pressing. "What else do you know about him? Does he have family? Any kids? Business partners who come through town?"
Brooke shrugs and sips her drink. "He keeps his personal life private. No wife that anyone has met. Some people say he was married once a long time ago but it ended badly. He has money from old investments or something. The restaurant is his new toy. He comes in most afternoons to check on things."
I’m about to ask a follow-up when movement inside catches my eye. Melissa’s still at the bar but she has turned, pointing toward the back of the restaurant. Brooke follows her gaze and her face lights up.
"Oh, speak of the devil," Brooke says, lifting her chin. "There he is over there by the window. The older man in the blue shirt talking to the manager."
I turn.
The world narrows to a single point.
The man standing near the large window overlooking the docks has his back mostly to us, but he shifts slightly as the manager gestures toward something on a tablet. Salt-and-pepper hair. Broad shoulders that haven’t stooped with age. The way he stands with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a glass, thumb tapping the rim in a rhythm I’ve seen a thousand times in old videos and faded photos.
Every muscle in my body goes taut.
I know that profile. I know the line of that jaw, the set of those shoulders. I spent my whole life looking for echoes of it in my own mirror and in my brothers' faces.
It’s my father.
Victor isn’t some local businessman with secrets.
It’s him.
He’s alive. He’s here. In Sunbreak Harbor. Running a restaurant as if he never faked his own death, as if my brothers and I haven’t been tearing apart every lead for months trying to find him.
The sound of the marina fades. The laughter from the table, the clink of ice in glasses, the distant music, all of it goes muffled like I’m underwater. My hand tightens on Sadie's waist without meaning to. She glances up at me, concern flickering across her face, but I can’t look away from the man by the window.
He turns a fraction more. Enough for me to see the familiar profile in full. The same eyes. The same mouth that used to laugh at our terrible jokes when we were kids.
Everything I thought I knew about this assignment, about the search, about why we’re really here, cracked wide open.
And Sadie’s still pressed against my side, warm and real and completely unaware that the man we’ve been asking about all afternoon is the ghost I’ve been chasing for months.
12
