While he put the steaks on the grill, she grabbed the box of treasures and two beers before settling in a chair at the small table. “I talked to Dean today,” she said innocently, unpacking the box’s contents.

He looked up from the sizzling meat. “I talked to Michael today.”

They both grinned and left it at that.

He turned down the heat on the grill and joined her at the table. “How did Cody’s finals go?” he asked.

“We think they went well,” she said, handing him a photo in a protective plastic sheet. It was of three women in gowns staring at the camera. They were in some sort of fancy-looking drawing room, a fireplace and an octagonal window behind them. There was a fourth woman—or girl—dressed in a plain, high-necked gown standing off to the side. “He’s nervous, especially about the science exam, since it was comprehensive. But Dayana turned out to be a damn good tutor and helped him cram. Flip it over,” she instructed.

Silas did as he was told and saw the inscription written in a tight, loopy scrawl.

The Palmer Sisters and their lady’s maid.

There was a name after the word maid, but the ink was smudged. It looked like Ann or Anna.

“Did Cody get his grades yet?” he asked.

“The last three should be posted tonight,” Maggie told him. She handed him a page, in its own protective sheet, of the manuscript they’d found on the desk. “He promised to text as soon as he knows. He’s scared to death, but I feel good about it. He worked hard.”

“Well, get your party hats ready,” he said.

She leaned in and gripped his arm. “Do you have inside information? Does your dad know if Cody passed?”

“I may have asked him to hunt down a few of the late graders this afternoon.”

She surprised him by jumping out of her chair and throwing her arms around him. “Oh my God. He did it! He’s going to be thrilled. Now we definitely have to have a party. Did I tell you I was thinking about throwing a party?”

“You did. And we are. I already asked Mama B if she can make her pierogies.”

“We can have it at the house, and now that it’s official, he can ask his mom if she’ll come.” Maggie pulled out her phone to start making a list.

Silas covered the screen with his hand. “Uh-uh. No phones at the table during quality catch-up time,” he insisted. He took the phone, stuffed it in his pocket, and returned to the grill to flip the steaks.

“Mean.” She pouted.

He pinched the tongs in front of her. “You’ll just have to be entertained by me.”

“Well, there are worse things, I suppose.”