Annie knew that. “How about one that I think might make everyone happy?”

“Is it about the skull?” Donna’s eyes grew hopeful.

“I wish. But it’s something even better. At least it is to me.”

“And it is . . . ?”

“John and I are engaged.”

Donna sucked in a short breath. “To be married?”

“Well, yes.”

“My goodness. That is a surprise.”

“We’re so right together, Donna. He’s smart and kind, and he gives me space. . . .”

“But where will you live?”

Annie hadn’t expected that question so quickly. She hoped Donna wouldn’t think they’d ask her to leave the cottage. “We won’t get married until we know what’s going on with the Inn.”

“And with me? Like if I’ll be out of the way?”

The comment was a jolt to Annie’s gut. “Please don’t say that. We want you in our lives. In fact, we’re counting on you to help plan the wedding.”

“In that case, you’d better hurry.” So much for Donna’s pledge to stay positive.

“Please . . . don’t . . .”

Donna shook her head. “I’m sorry I said that. I want only happiness for you, my dear girl. I would love to know that at least one of my children is stable and happy.”

So she, too, was worried about Kevin. “I think Kevin is going through a bumpy time right now.”

“He needs to do some serious thinking. Especially about that awful woman.”

“Taylor? She’s not awful. Not really. She’s . . . different. She’s had a difficult life. . . .”

“Giving her baby away and then trying to reclaim him? At least I gave you the dignity of having your own life. And happiness to the people who adopted you.”

And that’s when Annie knew it was the perfect chance to ask about her birth father. Short of having her DNA done and praying that he—or one of his other children if he’d had any—had had his done as well, Annie knew the only way she’d find out would be to ask.

“You did give me that dignity, and for that I thank you. I’m sure Bob and Ellen Sutton would, too, if they were here.”

Donna didn’t reply. Perhaps she was feeling the loss. Or guilt. Or envy. Then she said, “Kevin also is upset because he wants me to tell you something.”

The lump reappeared in Annie’s throat. Had Kevin warned Donna that Annie was going to ask about her father? “Tell me what?”

Donna rubbed a corner of the quilt where a square of red tartan plaid was stitched, a remnant leftover from the skirt Ellen had made for Annie’s first day of second grade. The skirt that she’d been wearing in the picture in the old blue photo album in the bookcase. “I gave them the money,” Donna said.