She thinks about it. The breeze rustles her hair and sends the scent of the fire wafting over to me. That smell, over new green grass and the sea, seems like the kind of thing they could make into a candle. Summer in Maine. But then, it could be different in other parts of Maine. Summer in Eben Cape.

“The same,” Paige says finally. “But I have more presents now.”

“What’s your favorite gift?”

“I loved the bracelet from you guys.” No hesitation. She already knows. I wonder if she and Mateo talked about favorite presents while they lined up all those rocks. “And I love the zip line from Mom. And I loved the new Nintendo Switch from Uncle Mateo.” Paige cocks her head to the side as she twists the marshmallow stick with great care, like Beau told her. “The present from Uncle Joe was nice, too.”

I freeze. My blood freezes. Everything freezes. I feel Emily stiffen next to me. Across the fire, Mateo frowns. Beau concentrates on the fire, but his shoulders go up. A present from Joe shouldn’t be possible. I can’t fathom how he would have brought her a gift for her birthday.

“What present was that again?” I hope my voice sounds as casual as I meant it to.

Paige doesn’t seem to notice. “Yeah, he sent it to me. I don’t know how, though. But the envelope had my name on it. Paige Rochester. Do you think they have a post office in jail? They probably have one if he sent it to me.”

“I don’t think I saw that one.” I let a few beats pass. “Can you show me?”

“It’s that one on top.” Paige doesn’t look toward the patio table. “The wooden one. I don’t want to burn this marshmallow. I think it’s turning out good.”

The wooden carving is on the top of all Paige’s other gifts and the box the zip line came in. Joe—or someone else, I guess—whittled it into its current shape. It’s clearly the top hat from Monopoly. Paige picks the top hat more than any other piece.

“Would you look at that?” I stand up and cross over to the table. A folded note has been discarded near the hat. I pick it up with two fingers, only to realize I’m being ridiculous. The paper won’t scream at me, or burst into flame. It won’t threaten me with an investigation. It won’t summon Joe’s presence to the party.

It’s just a note that says J.

Beside it, there’s a manila envelope with scrawled handwriting. Sure enough, it’s addressed to Paige Rochester with the address of the Coach House.