“Y’all ready to meet Willa?” Jude asks us. His smile is so wide. It’s clear how much he adores her. “She’s the one who really put this place on the map, ya know. A decade or so ago, Whisper Cove was just another struggling summer theatre. It was about to go under for good. But Willa’s play changed all that. She—”

We don’t get a chance to talk any more, because the most striking woman I’ve ever seen suddenly bursts through the screen door and onto the porch. She’s tall and elegant, with long legs and long, dark hair streaked with steely silver. She has on jeans and heeled boots. Dangly earrings and jangling bracelets. A flowing yellow scarf trails behind her like the tail of a kite.

But it’s those eyes that really demand my attention. They’re gray. Unflinching. So much like Cole’s that, even if I hadn’t spent the past couple of years staring at that photo of her younger self, I’d know without a doubt exactly who she was.

There’s a flurry of activity and excited murmuring, because this is Willa Culver. Right here in front of us. In the flesh. She’s the reason theatre kids from all over the country compete for a chance to come here. They all want an opportunity to study with Willa.

I can’t stop staring at her for another reason, though. Because standing right here in front of me is someone who knew my mother. Someone who called her a friend.

“Hello, my lovelies!” Willa is beaming at us. “Welcome to Whisper Cove!”

I was such a little girl the last time she saw me, and my name is totally different. And I know there’s just enough of my father in my face to keep Willa Culver from recognizing me. But I have this sudden urge to stand up and shout out my truth to her.

My mother was Nicole Kendrick!

Instead, I bite my lip and stick to my plan. I’ll tell her after auditions. After the play is cast. That’s what I decided on the plane.

“Okay, okay,” she tells us. “Let’s get down to business. First, I want to say congratulations, and I want you all to take a moment to consider that you are among greatness. Right here on this humble farmhouse porch.” Willa looks around our group, and we wait with a hushed anticipation that’s settled on us thicker than last night’s fog. “The two dozen of you here this summer were chosen by me personally, handpicked from among hundreds of applicants. I was looking for something special. Something that stood out. And each and every one of you had that.” She gives us a dazzling smile. “So please know that each one of you is already extraordinary.”