And a few booths down, there was Frank, wearing a red shirt and holding his cane. He’d yet to come by her booth to say hello. In fact, he hadn’t even looked her way. She sensed hurt rising from his heart in sharp rays, making the air around him spark and rattle.

Violet’s stomach flipped and her breath came in rapid bursts, causing her heart to stutter. Everything was closing in around her—the people, the sticky heat, and the music that caused the air to throb against her temples and the base of her neck. As she absorbed the sight of Frank, her memories of long-ago nights mixing with this windswept one, Justin turned, spotted Frank, and called to him. Frank waved and a moment later the two embraced.

Then a woman Violet had never seen approached Frank. She wore a crisp skirt suit and heels and her red hair was pulled back in a tight, smooth ponytail. She put a hand on Frank’s shoulder, and when he took a step back from his nephew, she handed him something.

In the exchange Violet saw a flash of gold between their hands. He covered the item with his other hand, and like a marionette controlled by an unseen hand, his head rose and he looked right at Violet.

* * *

Liza hadn’t been able to get away from the dream. It always started with the sound of the boat—that bug-like whine of a motor as it skimmed across the water. Then the images associated with the boat—fists and whimpers, damp cheeks and broken glass. Since finding the bracelet and sliding it into her pocket, the dreams had only gotten stronger, and stranger. Then just last night, she’d dreamed she gave the bracelet to a gentleman wearing red and holding a cane.

Once she woke this morning, she put the dream out of her mind and didn’t think about it again, until she saw the man at the festival. His face was so kind, and he was wearing a red shirt with a black bird stitched on the chest pocket. His left hand rested on the head of a cane. And even stranger was who he stood next to—the handsome, clean-cut police officer she’d spoken with when she visited the police department. The officer who said he was looking into the mystery surrounding the boat and that she could call with any more information or questions. She’d never called him back.

As she stared at the man with the cane, a little voice in her mind told her to give him the bracelet. She felt the pressure of it—such a tiny, nearly weightless thing—in her purse. With her gaze locked on the gentleman, she unzipped her purse and reached in. Her fingers closed around the cool metal and she pulled it out, the wings of each tiny bird fluttering against her skin. A moment later, she tapped him on the shoulder.

“I know this is strange, but I think I need to give this to you.”