Page 50 of The Cherry Blossom Boathouse

He sighed and pulled his phone from his pocket, putting it to his ear. “This better be an emergency.” He listened for a moment, then his face went serious.

“Yeah,” he said, “I’ll be there in ten.”

He hung up, dark brow knitted. “Hate to put a pause on this but the museum’s been broken into. I gotta go see to the lock.”

“Is that a common occurrence around here?”

He kissed her head then grabbed his T-shirt, pulling it on before he picked up his toolbox. “Nope. In fact, the last break-in in Solace Springs happened about three years ago.”

“Could it be related to the fire on the island?” Sophie asked as she followed him.

“Maybe.” He paused at the door, giving her a once-over with his eyes. “I’ll come back with lunch and we can continue where we left off.”

“I like the sound of that.”

She watched him head off, cursing whoever was causing havoc in her new town and nuking what had been shaping up to be the most promising lunch break of Sophie’s life.

Twenty-Two

Luke

The new deadbolt slid into place with a satisfying click. Luke tested it once, twice, making sure the mechanism caught properly. Solid work, even if his mind had been back at the boathouse, wishing he was tangled up with Sophie.

“That should hold against anything short of a battering ram,” he said to the museum curator, Ella, who sat perched on the edge of her desk watching him.

“Thanks,” Ella said. “Honestly, the idea of someone rummaging through the archives is bringing me out in hives,” she added, scratching at her arms. “Some of those documents are irreplaceable. Like, we have original land deeds from eighteen forty-seven, and there’s this fascinating collection of love letters from the lighthouse keeper’s wife during the Civil War that nobody’s even properly cataloged yet because I keep getting distracted by other projects. And oh God,” she said, her eyes widening, “what if they damaged the shipping manifests from the eighteen nineties resort era? Because—” She stopped abruptly. “Sorry, I’m spiraling. It’s just, you spend years building a collection and then some vandal comes in and treats it like it’s disposable junk mail.”

Luke smiled as he packed his tools back into their case. Ella had always been a talker; the kind who could turn a simple question about library hours into a fifteen-minute deep dive on Carnegie steel money. Back in school, kids called her “Wikipedia” behind her back.

Her twin sister Camille was different. Cool, confident, never doubted herself for a second. Packed up for New York and landed some big magazine job like it was nothing. Complete opposite of Ella with her messy facts and nervous chatter.

These days Ella ran some history podcast that had gotten popular about small-town mysteries and forgotten scandals.

“It’s like whoever did this was searching for something,” Ella said now, her hazel eyes narrowing, clearly a new podcast episode idea forming.

“Any thoughts what that might be?”

“The historic deeds and legal documents area was messed with the most, but nothing was taken, from what I can see. It’s so strange.”

The museum’s front door creaked open then, bringing with it the smell of pipe tobacco and Old Spice. Luke didn’t need to turn around to know who it was: Abe, Caleb’s old man.

“Heard about the break-in on the scanner,” Abe said, his cane tapping a slow rhythm against the hardwood floor. “Sheriff on his way.”

“Please mind the papers on the floor,” Ella said, flinching slightly as Abe’s stick thumped against them.

Abe hobbled closer, peering at Luke’s handiwork with a critical eye. “Damn shame,” he muttered, surveying the mess beyond the door. “Third incident in the last few weeks. First the lights on the island, then that fire, now this. Someone’s targeting this town, mark my words. Wasn’t like this before they opened that refugee center over in Clearview.”

“Yeah, and the fish stopped biting when they installed that cell tower,” Luke deadpanned.

Ella’s mouth quirked up at one corner as she bent her head, pretending to focus on her stack of folders.

“The town meeting is tonight, remember, and this’ll be the main focus of discussion,” Abe said, glaring at Luke. “Try to get to the bottom of what’s happening around here,” he said, gesturing to the scattered papers. “Expect all the townsfolk to turn up if they care about the place, and that includes you both.”

Luke sighed. Town hall meetings ranked slightly above dental surgery on his list of preferred activities. Too many people, too much talking, and inevitably someone (usually Abe again) would suggest forming a committee that required even more meetings.

Abe’s gaze swept over Luke’s dusty boots. “Heard you’ve been spending a lot of time at that British gal’s boathouse.”

Luke turned away, packing his tools with deliberate focus. But he didn’t miss the quirk in Ella’s eyebrow. “Yep, I’m helping with renovations.”