But there were linens, meticulously embroidered and carefully folded. Handkerchiefs with lacy edges turning yellow. An amber necklace, a ring crafted to fit a small finger and studded with little ruby stones that glistened like new blood. Pretty pieces of jewelry that suited a young woman not yet married and a locket that held a curl of dark hair bound by gold thread.

Tucked in with them was a small book with a red leather cover. Inside was the careful convent-school writing of a well-bred woman: “We met on the cliffs today, early, when there was still dew on the grass and the sun was rising slowly from the sea. Felipe told me he loved me, and my heart was brighter than the dawn.”

Laura rested her head against Margo’s shoulder. “Her diary,” she murmured. “She put her diary in with her treasures, locked away. Poor girl.”

“I always thought I’d feel thrilled when we found it.” Kate reached into the box, stroked a finger over the amber beads. “I just feel sad. She hid away everything that was important to her in this little box and left it behind.”

“You shouldn’t feel sad.” Laura laid the open diary on her lap. “She wanted us to find it and to open it again. I like to think it had to wait until all three of us faced something we thought we couldn’t face. But we did. We have.”

She reached out, took each of their hands in hers. “And we should put these in the shop, in a special case.”

“We couldn’t sell any of it,” Margo murmured. “We couldn’t sell Seraphina’s treasures.”

“No, not to sell.” Laura smiled at the simple box. “To let other people dream.”

Michael left the rubble of his living room just as it was. He was going to stand in the shower and drown out the aches and pains. After he’d had a drink. In fact, now that he thought of it, getting piss-faced drunk was probably a much happier way to drown out the pain.

He bypassed beer and took out a bottle of Jameson’s. As he poured a tumbler half full, he ignored the insistent knocking on his door.

“Go the fuck away,” he muttered and took one long swallow. It did little to improve his mood when Ann Sullivan pushed open his door.

“Well, I see you’re already drowning your sorrows in the middle of this chaos.” She set down a box on the counter and frowned at the destruction. “I wouldn’t have thought there’d be this much damage. We lost only a few breakables at the main house.”

“Laura did most of it.” He lifted his glass again as Ann pursed her lips.

“Did she? It’s rare for her to let her temper loose, but a wicked one it can be. Well, sit down, we’ll tend to you before we clean up the mess.”