I helped Rosie with her jacket, and she paused at the gate, watching Xander for a moment before we melted into the crowd. Preoccupied with my own thoughts, I didn’t notice she’d gone quiet until we reached Town Hall, where tourists examined original documents and photographs.

“Hey, what’s up?” I asked just inside the door.

Her lips pursed, but she eventually shook her head. “Nothing big. I did an experiment. We just learned about hypotuses last week.”

“Hypotheses?” I asked.

She nodded. “My experiment failed. I need a new hypothesis.” She carefully pronounced the last word.

“Do you want to tell me what it was?” I didn’t want to pry if she was still working things out in her head. I hated when people did that to me.

“Not yet. I’m going to try again.” Her chin rose, and she hugged me before running back to her mother.

Dad stood with a group of fanny pack–wearing travelers, showing off his prized possession: a full wall of original pictures pieced together to show Alba from the mountain above.

He was in his glory here, where history didn’t change and the present didn’t matter. The conversation didn’t stop as Dad lifted Rose into his arms so she could see the top picture. Then Rose jumped in, showing the group where the schoolhouse was.

“And that’s the Rose Rowan Mine! I’m named after it, and my aunt’s boyfriend is going to have it open for tours soon! But not the bunkhouse. That burned down.”

Dad and I locked eyes. He looked away first. He hadn’t spoken to me since the diner, when I’d chosen Cam.

Rose tapped at Dad’s chest, and he grinned at her before nodding and putting her on her feet. She raced over to Charity, and I slipped into the space the tourists had occupied a moment ago.

On Dad’s etched, formal name tag that labeled him a council member of the Historical Society, there was a sparkly unicorn sticker covering his title.

He looked at it when he caught me staring and smiled in Rose’s direction. “She still thinks everything glitters.”

“And you don’t correct her,” I noted, wondering when the first time he’d done so with me was. When was the first time I’d stepped off his approved path to follow my own?

“Why would I? It’s a rare gift to see the hidden beauty in things. That kind of optimism is something to be treasured. You have that same spark in your soul, Willow.” He glanced to Charity and back to me, a lingering sadness in his eyes that I felt spill over into me. “At least Rose still lets me protect her.”

“Maybe I still see the hidden beauty you stopped looking for.”

His lips flattened, and he struggled to swallow. “I wish that were the case, sweetheart. I really do.”