“Honestly, I’d be surprised if anyone from that summer kept in touch with the two of them,” the man added. “They hung out with the rest of us, yes, but they always sort of gave off the vibe that they had each other and that was enough. Attached at the hip—part of why they’re so memorable.”

“So you never . . . with one of them . . . there’s no chance that you’re—”

With a soft touch on Sydney’s arm, Maggie intervened. “Thank you, Mr. Pettinger. We’re grateful you were willing to take a few minutes away from your yardwork, but we won’t keep you any longer.”

“You’re not going to tell me why you came here? Have to admit you’ve got me curious.” The man had a warm, steadying smile.

Just not the one from CarleeAnn’s photo.

Maggie’s tone was all grace, though there was a breathless quality to her voice. “Just trying to fill in a few gaps from the past.”

“Well, I hope those two are doing well now. Of course, I only knew them for those couple of months, but it was enough to see they had the kind of friendship that sticks.”

No, no they weren’t doing well. One was killed in a tragic accident. The other, from disease and addiction. And as for their enduring friendship . . .

Hopelessness clawed its way in. Conjecture, that’s all any of this was. For all any of them knew, once Diana left Muir Harbor and landed in Atlanta, they never spoke again. But they returned to Muir Harbor the same weekend. After CarleeAnn dropped out of college, she could’ve gone to Atlanta, could’ve met up with Diana . . .

More guesswork.

Maggie’s only reply to Mr. Pettinger was a murmured, “Yes, they were certainly close.” Then a kind, if strained, smile. Another thank-you for his time. And she steered Sydney away.

Only when they’d emerged on the other side of the cabins did Sydney find her voice. “Maybe I should’ve been more straightforward. He might’ve slept with one of them that summer.”

“Sydney—”

“We might have the dates off or maybe you’re misremembering when Diana was at the camp. Maybe it was after her senior year of high school. That would make complete sense. She sleeps with the guy in the summer, discovers she’s pregnant once she’s home, takes off in the fall, and by the time she returns two and a half years later—”

“The camp was after her junior year, Syd.” Maggie’s pace quickened as they neared her car. “She was home the summer after she graduated, not that she was around the house much. But I remember it clearly. She and CarleeAnn made a point of having all the fun they could before adulthood set in—her words.”