Not for one moment had she thought Mel might actually show up at her door. She’d been thrown to see her standing there, then flooded with memories of the past and their friendship, and Nate. It had unsettled her to the point that she couldn’t think.

And now she’d potentially exposed Ashley to unwanted attention.

Would Mel say something?

She’d learned to trust no one and yet for some reason she still trusted Mel.

She drank the water and put the glass down.

Mel had been shocked that Joanna had brought Ashley here. She probably thought it was a mistake, but Joanna knew now that it wasn’t a mistake. Yes, she’d had her own doubts in the beginning, but every second she spent with Ashley made her more convinced she’d done the right thing.

Ashley was scared, and Joanna knew how that felt.

Ashley was alone, and Joanna knew how that felt, too.

Ashley was trying to hide how scared and alone she was, and Joanna had more experience of that than anyone.

Bringing her here might just be the best choice she’d made in a long time, not just for Ashley but also for herself.

Despite her initial trepidation, being back at Otter’s Nest had been calming. At night she lay on the huge bed in the master bedroom, listening to the sound of the surf on the beach and breathing in the fresh ocean air. She hadn’t closed the doors once and it felt as if she was sleeping on the sand. Her dreams were vivid. Her father teaching her to swim and surf. Reading to her on their perch on the rocks. There were no dreams of Cliff, perhaps because he had made no imprint on this part of her life. He’d never visited Otter’s Nest. It was as if the last twenty years had been wiped away.

But as for the years before that—

Joanna stared at the basket that Mel had brought.

Seeing her old friend had brought back so many memories, some sweet, some sour, and also some confusion because Mel had been upset—angry?—and thought Joanna owed her an apology. Which meant Nate hadn’t told her what had happened.

She reached into the basket.

Nate makes the best cookies.

She removed the bag with the jaunty Surf Café logo. It was strange to think of him running the café as his parents had done before him. And Mel working there, too.

She opened another bag and found tomatoes, jewel red and still on the vine. She pulled one out and sniffed it. It was impossible to live with a chef for twenty years and not appreciate good food, even if she wasn’t capable of producing it herself.

Fresh is always best, Joanna. Breathe in. What can you smell?