Aunt Elizabeth left Donna a little money when she died. “It’s not enough for you to have the kind of happiness that you deserve,” Elizabeth had penned in a note that she’d tucked into an envelope along with six thousand dollars in one hundred dollar bills, “but it might come in handy if, like me, you never find a rich man to marry you.” Elizabeth’s attorney had handed Donna the envelope; it had been in the safety deposit box next to Elizabeth’s last will and testament. Though Donna had known her aunt had longed for exquisite, expensive things, she’d never had any of her own. She’d been a spinster all her life; it was amazing that she’d been able to save that much. Donna’s parents never had; they’d scrimped their whole lives and, in the end, they each only had a five thousand dollar life insurance policy. It had cost that much to pay their final medical bills and to bury them.

Donna would have loved to buy the Louis Vuitton with part of her windfall from Elizabeth. But the woman hadn’t died until six months after the trunk had vanished from the shop on Newbury Street.

So instead she used the money to go to business school at night. If she had no man, she figured she’d need an education to support young Kevin and herself. Or she would risk ending up like her parents and Elizabeth, leaving her dreams behind.

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

“All the more reason for me to be there,” Donna said after Annie told her about the pressure mounting toward opening the Inn. Annie saw no reason to tell her about the skull and its potential ramifications—not until they knew more about what would happen.

“But some of our construction crew has left,” Annie said, “and it looks like we won’t be able to replace them for a week or two. So Kevin and Earl are really busy.” She was, of course, stretching the truth, as her father would have called it. “Wouldn’t you rather be here when we can have fun? I was hoping you’d help me make soap for the artisan festivals . . . or give me a hand with some last-minute decorating.”

“No,” Donna interrupted. “A week or two has a way of turning into a month or more. I don’t want to wait that long to see my children. And you won’t have time to come up here. Not now, or once the Inn has opened.”

She was right, of course. And Annie didn’t know how to dissuade her. “Kevin and I want to see you, too. But this week, well, to be honest, everyone’s nerves are frayed. I’m sure you understand. Can you at least wait until next week?”

“No,” Donna repeated.

A lump returned to Annie’s throat. “Oh.” She wondered if she sounded as close to tears as she suddenly felt.