Ashland led me to the dinner table he had set up on the deck. I could see that he had a server waiting for us, who held out my chair and handed me a fine cloth napkin. Ashland’s eyes twinkled as he opened a bottle of champagne. The server brought us covered dishes; with a flair, he removed the covers. They were plates of cold, boiled shrimp with cocktail and tartar sauce. In a few minutes, we were served West Indies Salad, stuffed flounder and cocktails.

“My compliments to the chef,” I told the server. He looked from me to Ashland.

Ashland grinned. “I’m the chef.”

“No! You can cook? Hidden talents. Thank you for going to the trouble of doing all this for tonight…. Oh, look; here comes some more stars…” We made a toast to the stars, and eventually neither of us could eat anymore. We washed our hands and settled down on a cushion at the bow to watch the skies. That night was the Leonid Meteor Shower. It would be ending soon, but I wanted our time together to go on and on.

Ashland sighed. “The stars are so beautiful tonight. You know, in the winter, you can see the Pleiades—the Seven Sisters—in the Northern Hemisphere. Actually, there are nine stars, but only seven can be viewed with the naked eye. They say they’re dying stars and will fade away soon.”

“Mia mentioned something about that to me the other day. She said she believed those white crosses we found were actually markers because they had the stars’ names on them. They were pretty faded, though; I didn’t even see them until she pointed them out to me. She’s convinced it’s a map to something.” I sipped my cocktail absently, staring up at the stars.

“A map to what? Did she say?” Ashland was staring at me. I felt a surge of worry, but I wasn’t sure why.

“No, she didn’t. I told her those markers didn’t mean anything. They could just be names of children who died at birth, or even markers for family pets. I mean, who knows, really?”

He looked serious; his jaw was clenched a little. He set his drink down on the side table. “I think it’s time I told you a little about my mother and why I’m restoring the old house. You see, my mother’s family were descendants of the Cottonwoods—and the Beaumonts, even though they later moved to the northern part of the county. My mother loved that old house, and she spent a lot of time there in her last years.”

“Bette, my landlady, she’s with the Historical Society, and she told me a little about that.” I wanted to let him know he didn’t need to dive into painful memories just to fill me in. I wanted to save him some heartache.

He smirked. “Well, people do talk.”

“Oh, no! Bette isn’t like that at all. She knew your mother, and she really liked her. She didn’t say anything negative.” Except that she had lost her marbles.