Still, he pressed on, moving toward whatever it was that glimmered in the sun. A cross. An expensive-looking stone cross with flecks that reflected the light had been planted in the ground like a gravestone. When he reached it, he discovered that at the base of it was a small brass marker with the words In Loving Memory of Daniel Boggs. Husband. Father. Friend.

His vision blurred the longer he stared, confusion rippling through him like a wave on its way to shore.

His father was buried back in their Chicago suburb, and his mother had only wanted to forget they’d ever been on Nantucket, so she certainly had nothing to do with this marker. Daniel had been well-liked—loved, even. He was that kind of guy. The kind of guy Cody could never be. One who enjoyed people, enjoyed talking, always eager to help. Cody hadn’t inherited those qualities. He found people difficult to connect with, though sometimes he wondered if that was a result of his circumstances.

Who had he been before his father died? Was that the man he was supposed to have become?

This was all too much. Too much introspection for one day. The run was supposed to help him forget this kind of emotional garbage, but it wasn’t working.

He knelt down and ran a hand over the cross. It was sturdy. How long had it been there? His hand brushed against something on the back of it. He leaned around and saw something affixed there, a small piece of paper. There were no flowers, no other markings to indicate anyone had been there recently—but whatever this was said otherwise.

He removed it from the cross, not caring if he was invading someone’s privacy—this was meant to memorialize his father. Didn’t he have a right to know what it was?

It was a small card, about the size of a business card. One side was blank, and the other had been written on with black marker.

It read: Miss you, Danny. IOU.

Cody frowned.

The white card appeared to be new, like it hadn’t weathered a single rainstorm. Like it had been put there recently.

But it had been nearly twelve years since his dad died. Who on the island still remembered enough to come down to this mysterious memorial and leave a note? And where had this cross come from in the first place?

His stomach twisted. Did he want to know?

He reread the words. Miss you, Danny.

His mind rushed back years. He and Louisa were lying on giant beach towels and their parents were all lined up underneath one of those beach tents meant to keep out the sun.