But there was something else too, something about how quickly her dad changed the subject, as if talking about it was still too painful.

Shouldn’t they be able to discuss Daniel’s death by now? She and Cody weren’t kids anymore, and her parents had had years to process it. But it remained the elephant in every room. The wall of tension that kept them all frozen in time, paralyzed by a past that had once been full of joy. How was it that joy could be so haunting?

She’d always wondered what she and Cody didn’t know about the story because it certainly seemed like there was more to it than she’d been told. Why had her parents never reached out to Marissa in all this time? Why hadn’t they reconciled? What was it that still kept them apart?

She could see Cody trying to sort out the possibilities—where would his questions lead him?

“Your parents?” Cody asked, sounding hopeful.

“I asked them,” Louisa said. “They said no, and honestly that summer they didn’t make it to the island until late in the season. I remember because they asked me to go down there with them. We left flowers at the cross.”

“Do you think we could go talk to them about it?”

“They’re still in Boston.”

Cody looked at her, brow laced with confusion. “I just saw your dad at a coffee shop.”

Louisa’s heart sank. She wasn’t sure if she was embarrassed to admit she wasn’t close enough with her parents for them to tell her when they were back on the island or if she was simply hurt they hadn’t told her they were here.

“You didn’t know?” Cody’s gaze was too intent.

“I must’ve forgotten,” she said. A lie he’d surely see right through. “I can ask them again, I suppose, but I think they would’ve told me if they’d discovered anything.” She realized the irony of that statement given the fact that they hadn’t even told her they’d returned to Nantucket.

Did that mean they knew about her accident? Surely not—they would’ve shown up at the door the second they got wind of that. But she should probably tell them before someone else did. The thought made her groan. More proof that Louisa was a giant screwup.

After a long moment, he finally looked away. “Can you think of anyone who would’ve had that memorial made? Or anyone who might’ve left this note? It had to be recent—it looks brand-new.”

Maggie drew in a deep breath. “A lot of people loved your dad.”

“Right,” Cody said. “But twelve years later?”

“It has been a long time.” Maggie coughed again. “I really can’t think of anyone in particular.”