Lily hiccupped around the grief in her throat, a half laugh, half gasp. ‘When did you get so wise?’

‘I’ve had a few years to practise,’ she teased. ‘And yes, the Hawkesbury estate was – is – important to you but perhaps … Perhaps the time you had there with Blake was a gift and valuable for what it was. It helped you, gave you an outlet. But look at you,’ her mother exclaimed, taking both hands in her own, ‘you have the restaurant, which is doing so well. Malie’s coming back. Maybe it’s time for you to think about what else you could be doing?’

‘Well, I have the wedding—’

‘No. After the wedding, my love,’ she prodded gently. ‘There’s a big wide world out there. And Vihaan is back in a week, maybe you could take some time off? Maybe you could go and visit V in London for a day or two. Or maybe even do a bit of travelling, like Malie and Zoe. I’ve always thought … No. I … it’s OK. I’ve said my piece,’ her mother concluded cryptically.

There wasn’t much to be said after that. Marion had to head out, although Lily genuinely couldn’t imagine where her mother was going with a paint roller, and all the other DIY stuff she’d put together in a package by the front door. She’d been practically pushed through the hallway and back out into the street.

An old lady needs her secrets, she’d said.

As Lily had retrieved the bicycle from where she had dropped it, a large, sleek black SUV pulled into the road, slowed, and then sped off. Which was strange. Not the SUV – they’d been slowly filling up the roads around Hawke’s Cove for the last few years-but Lily could have sworn she’d seen Zoe in the brief glimpse of the passenger seat. Which she couldn’t have. Obviously. Zoe was in Sydney with Finn and wasn’t due back until a few days before the wedding. She shook her head, trying to order the confused thoughts in her mind.

Henry. The sale of the estate. The wedding. Henry.

They were all spinning around together like clothes in a washing machine. She had meant what she’d said to Henry and to her mother. It wasn’t about the estate. She knew that, as much as she felt an emotional claim to the place, it wasn’t hers. It never had been. It was Henry’s to do with as he wished. And although it would have a ripple effect on the town and its people, the Jamesons had seemed nice. They had. It was Henry that she kept coming back to.

Because in her heart of hearts, she knew that Blake had loved his son. But her mother had suggested that she could give something back to Henry. And Lily realized she held the key. Literally.