Page 55

By dawn she had drifted into an uneasy half-sleep. Her dreams were full of sound: whispered names half lost to the wind and her own footsteps echoing down the mansion’s unfinished halls.

Saturday morning sunlight spilled across the kitchen, bright and deceptively ordinary.

Kelsey leaned against the counter, mug in hand, her dark hair still mussed from sleep. Mac stood behind her, flipping pancakes, and Noah was setting forks on the table. Ollie and Pilot darted hopefully underfoot, waiting for scraps from their favorite boy.

“You look like you wrestled with the bed and lost,” Kelsey said, arching a brow as Amy slumped into a chair.

“I didn’t sleep,” Amy admitted.

“Again?” Kelsey exchanged a quick glance with her husband. “I was wondering what got you up at this hour—willingly, that is.”

Amy forced a smile. “I don’t know. With the warmer weather, I’ve been sleeping with my window open. Must be the island noises are louder lately. Maybe my imagination’s just on a caffeine high. I swear the waves were breaking in my bedroom last night.”

Kelsey leaned forward. “You’ve been wound tight for weeks. Maybe the ghost-hunting crew? Too many strangers stomping around in the night?”

“Could be that,” Amy said, picking at a corner of a woven placemat.

What she didn’t say was that it wasn’t strangers keeping her awake. It was the mansion—calling her the way it had that awful night she’d woken outside in the fog.

This morning, she’d awakened sore and stiff, as though she’d been running all night. Out of an abundance of denial, she refused to acknowledge the trace of dirt she’d rinsed from her feet in the shower. But she couldn’t have sleepwalked out of the house—the alarm had been on, and she’d had to disarm it this morning to let Ollie out. There was no way she could have consciously turned it off then back on while in a trance-like state.

Was there?

She shook off the thought as Noah slid a plate of pancakes in front of her with all the earnest gravity of an eight-year-old performing a sacred duty.

“Pancakes can fix everything,” he said solemnly.

Amy ruffled his hair. “Thanks, my little man.”

The comment earned her an epic eye roll. “Oh hey, Noah,” Amy said between bites of truly life-changing pancakes. “I met some girls last night who know you. The twins?”

Noah froze mid-stride and blushed red from scalp to toes. “Girls are gross,” he said awkwardly, then disappeared into the living room.

The adults shared a smirk as he turned the TV volume up to drown them out.

“It’s happening… my little boy…” Kelsey groaned.

“Bound to someday,” Mac said, turning his attention back to the griddle. “The boy’s a catch.”

Kelsey frowned at her sister, narrowing her eyes in mock suspicion. “The only twins I know in school are Sully Sullivan’s nieces. They’re staying with their uncle this weekend, and I happen to know they had pizza delivered to the house last night. As you know, we’re pretty tight with the pizza folks on the island.”

“Staple of our diet,” Mac added helpfully.

“That means,” Kelsey continued, “you must have been at Sully’s house.” She lifted one eyebrow.

Amy shifted uneasily in her seat. Kelsey had always had detective-like skills. “I stopped by with a thank-you for Sully. He did a favor for me this week. I crashed their pizza party…”

Kelsey stared at her sister as though sheer willpower could pry out more details. Amy resisted, knowing how much that would irritate her.

“Sully’s a good guy,” Mac said innocently, turning from the stove to the women. But after taking in their intense, wordless exchange, he shook his head and turned back to the skillet.

Later, the sisters moved out onto the deck of Kelsey’s home that overlooked the bay. Mac and Noah had headed into town to run errands. It was a normal Saturday for them—although it still didn’t feel normal for Amy. So far, she’d resisted her sister’s questioning, but Amy knew Kelsey was just waiting for reinforcements.

Kaitlin arrived just before noon, still wearing her nametag from the town offices and talking before she even finished closing the door. “Ladies, I swear, if I have to catalog one more shipping record, I’ll start haunting the archive myself. I never knew there was such commerce here over a century ago!”

She stopped mid-sentence as she saw Amy’s face. “You look awful.”

“Thank you. You look great too. Love that you’re working on a Saturday,” Amy muttered.