“I'm so sorry,” Lily said.

“Maeve spoke,” Tara said. “At the vigil. I know it's crazy, but I wished you could be there—so you could know how much everyone loved you.”

“We all had candles,” Bay said. “We waited for Maeve, and I can remember her coming down the path behind the yellow cottage, wearing a long dress. It looked so familiar—and it wasn't until she came across the footbridge that I realized when I'd seen it before. She'd worn it to your wedding.”

“Yellow chiffon,” Lily said, picturing it.

“Her eyes were so red,” Bay went on. “She'd been crying all day, it was obvious. Clara was with her—standing by her side. All your old friends, us beach kids, gathered around her. I was standing so close to her, Mar—I mean, Lily. She was just sobbing silently, as if her heart had just washed out to sea. I thought her tears would fill the creek.”

“I'm so sorry I put her through that,” Lily whispered. She pictured her grandmother weeping—not because she feared Lily was dead, but that she believed she would never see her again.

“Someone gave the signal—I'm not sure who. But suddenly one candle was lit, and then the flame passed to another, and on and on. After a few minutes, the entire beach was lit up by candlelight down below—and all the stars coming out above.”

“She stood up on one of the white benches on the boardwalk,” Tara said. “Bay and I stood right by her, to make sure she didn't fall. We thought she was going to beg everyone to keep looking for you, not give up—but she didn't. Instead, she just took this deep breath and stared over the crowd.”

“Everything got so hushed,” Bay said. “You couldn't hear a thing except the waves hitting the beach. Everyone was just waiting to hear what she would say.”

“I still remember it,” Tara said. “She said, ‘You're all here because you love her so much, just as I do. My granddaughter is good, and sweet. She deserved only to be loved, not . . .'” And then she just broke down. Bay and I helped her walk back across the beach to the footbridge, and home.”

“Edward must be going crazy, now that he knows you're back,” Bay said. “You know he had you declared dead? And the marriage annulled for good measure?”

“I think he's the reason I'm back,” Lily said quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“I think he did something to Maeve.”

“Why now?” Tara asked.

“Edward is patient,” Lily said. “His specialty is waiting. I think he's been waiting to punish Maeve all this time—and not just for speaking out about him. Her worst sin, to Edward, was in knowing about him—seeing through his act. Maeve was the first who did.”