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“Yeah, I know him,” Mac said finally. “We weren’t super close or anything. I’m a few years older, but we ran in the same circles, especially in the summers.”

Amy glanced toward where her brother-in-law stood roller in hand, his expression thoughtful.

“What was he like?” she asked, keeping her focus on the wall in front of her.

Mac shrugged. “Pretty much the same as he is now. Quiet, serious. But he’s always been a good guy. Reliable. The kind of person who shows up when it matters, you know?”

Amy nodded. That sounded exactly like the Sully she knew. Gruff but dependable, with a stubborn streak that sometimes drove her crazy. With all the arguments and disagreements they’d had over the renovations, he’d always come back and stuck to his word.

“After high school, I heard he went to college,” Mac continued. “Studied art, I think. Kind of surprised me at the time, but looking back, it makes sense. He’s got an eye for detail.”

Amy’s brow furrowed. Art? She hadn’t expected that.

Mac was quiet for a while as they painted, then his tone shifted slightly. “He came back to the island a few years ago to take over the family business when his father retired. I think his mother passed away not long after that. Sully’s been running things ever since. His crew likes him, I hear. He’s tough but fair.”

Amy turned to look at him, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face with the back of her hand. “What about his personal life? Do you know if he…” She hesitated, searching for the right words without being obvious.

“Has a girlfriend? Got married?” Mac quirked an eyebrow.

Amy tried not to blush. “I mean, yeah.”

Mac studied her for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “He did. Got married to someone off-island, I heard, right after college. Didn’t last, though. They split up pretty quickly.”

Kelsey appeared in the room, then. Her eyes were narrowed playfully as she looked between them. “Why so curious, Amy?”

“I’m not curious,” Amy said quickly, though the heat rising to her cheeks betrayed her. “I was just making conversation.”

“Uh-huh,” Kelsey said, grinning as she nudged Mac. “She’s totally curious.”

Mac chuckled and shook his head. “Well, since you asked for my opinion, Sully’s a good guy. Once you get past the gruff exterior and the whole ‘I’m too busy for nonsense’ vibe, he’s solid. Loyal. Honest.”

Amy turned back to her painting, pretending to focus on a stubborn patch of uneven wall. “Good to know,” she said lightly.

Kaitlin’s voice piped up from across the room. “I always thought Sully had that brooding, tortured artist thing going on. You know, the kind of guy who secretly writes poetry but would never admit it.”

Amy laughed. “I’m pretty sure Sully would rather eat nails than write poetry.”

“Maybe,” Kaitlin grinned. “But I bet he’s full of surprises.”

Amy didn’t respond, but her thoughts lingered on Kaitlin’s words as she rolled the paint onto the wall. Full of surprises. That sounded about right.

She finished her section of the wall and stepped back to survey her work. The room was taking shape. It felt calm, inviting.

“Looks good,” Mac said and stepped up beside her. “You’ve got a good eye, Amy.”

“Thanks.” She smiled at her brother-in-law.

But as the conversation moved on and the laughter picked up again, Amy couldn’t push thoughts of Sully from her mind. It irked her that she wanted to know more about him.

And she had no idea what to do about that.

By late afternoon, the paint fumes from the hospital wing were thinning, dispersing in the late spring breeze. Amy had insisted the shade was calming and would be perfect for her plans, and Sully had to admit she was right.

The skeleton crew knocked off for the day, laughing, clattering down the steps. Their work boots left dusty prints across the protective paper covering the new floors on the lower levels. Sully waited until the last truck pulled away before removing his tool belt, exhaling deeply as he did. Tension rolled off his shoulders. Another day, and he hadn’t lost any more crew.

Tomorrow and the following days may have a different story to tell. The ghost hunting ghouls started tonight, and likely by morning the town would be a-titter with the new strangers in town and what they were doing. When word got out, he dreaded that his crew would again be decimated.

Not only that, but the mansion would be crawling with strangers by nightfall, people who didn’t know a joist from a stud, and he didn’t like it.