He rolls it down. “What is it?”

“Was it Harbor? You said someone helped even after what you pulled. That sounds like Harbor.” He doesn’t blink. I nod, already knowing. I don’t know why it matters, but this is the first tie to him I’ve had since he left.

Dane says, “He asked me not to tell anyone.”

“I understand. I’m glad life is good.”

“Thanks. Take care of yourself, Lark.”

“I will.” I run back to the truck as hope somehow sneaks in that this crumb might somehow turn into a whole loaf of bread. I have no idea why he would help Dane, but that he did, there’s just something so pure about that gesture. And if it helped get my brooch back, I’m all for it.

I buckle back in, and my dad asks, “Still want to stop by the apartment?”

“Yes. I promised Delta I would. She says I left a box behind.”

“Alrighty. Downtown it is.” We almost reach the stop sign when I finally turn back to steal one last look at the house. My dad will always live there, so it won’t be the last time I visit, but it won’t ever be in the same way. I’m grown and starting my life.

Delta and Marina are standing by the curb when my dad parks just behind her Mercedes. “I’ll only be a minute.”

“I’ll secure the box while you guys talk.”

“Thanks, Dad.” I get out and straighten my Beacon U T-shirt, always feeling underdressed around them. They would never say that. It’s my own issue because they’re always put together—Marina in a strapless green sundress and Delta in a floral dress with ties for straps that lace over her shoulder. I can only dream to one day look as pretty as they do.

Marina comes right for me and gives me a hug. “It’s good to see you, Lark.”

“You, too.”

Delta and I embrace right after. I shove my hands in my back pockets, a little anxious since I don’t know why they want to meet. I say, “My dad wants to get on the road.”

“Yes, understandable,” Delta says. “I wanted to give this to you.” She pulls two photos from her purse. “I’m sorry it took so long. I knew I had a few photos but tracking them down proved the equivalent of climbing Mt. Everest. The good news? I found the photos. The other good news is our attic is clean and organized.”

“Glad it helped.” I take the photos, and ask, “What are they?” before turning them over. She doesn’t need to answer. I know what both are just from seeing them. I know that one baby is me, and the toddler, I’d know those eyes anywhere. They hold the same depth they always did. Running the tip of my finger over the photo, I whisper, “Harbor.” I don’t mean to sound wistful, but I won’t hide my feelings either. Some days I just don’t have the energy.