She put her wallet back slowly, glancing around the shop. Other than a few beach photos and a few decorative surfboards hanging on the walls, there was nothing inside but the shelves of blown-glass items. There had to be five hundred different pieces—all unique in some way. “These are really incredible.”

“It’s my life. It gives me joy. I don’t even worry about selling them…it just passes the time, you know?”

She nodded. “Well, they are beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

She cleared her throat. “I didn’t receive your invoice…for the yardwork.”

“There’s no invoice. I did it for Dove.”

Her chest tightened. “Well, I could use the help if you’re interested in continuing…but I’d insist on paying you.”

He smiled, and his eyes looked ten years younger. “I think I’m getting a little old for the work now. Besides, it was just for her.”

Sarah nodded. “Okay, I understand.”

Unfortunately, she understood too much and not enough at the same time. Her stomach knotted as she tried to picture him as a young man… It could be the man in her grandmother’s journal, but she couldn’t know for sure without his name.

“I’ll have these ready for you next week.” He tore the slip of paper off the notepad and folded it, then tucked it under the glass bulb on the counter.

“Great. Thank you.” She hesitated.

Just ask. Ask him his name.

Maybe she could find the information online. Chickening out, she put on her sunglasses and headed toward the door.

“Sarah.”

She stopped.

“Your grandmother would be proud to see the place and what you’ve done with it. It looks just like it once did,” he said.

The words warmed her. “I hope so.” She paused. She had to know what her gut already did. “I’m sorry…what was your name?”

“Jack Harrison.”

“Nice to have met you, Jack,” she said, hurrying out of the shop and away from any other answers she wasn’t sure she was ready for.

…

Wes kissed Marissa’s forehead as he tucked her into bed that evening. “Okay, time to sleep.”

“I don’t know why I can’t stay up later tonight. Aunt Lia’s here,” she said.

“You spent all day with her, and now you need rest. She probably needs a rest, too,” he said with a laugh, glancing at Lia in the bedroom doorway.

Nine-year-olds were exhausting, especially for people who didn’t have kids of their own, and four hours at the beach that day, followed by board games and a full rundown of her Fortnite progress must have Lia ready to call it a night as well. She stifled a yawn behind her hand.

“See?” Wes told Marissa.

“Fine. Will I see you tomorrow?” Marissa asked her.

“Lia might have to visit her parents tomorrow,” Wes answered for her.