“He just arrived.” Mama’s clipped tone nipped the edges of each word. “See that Mr. Manchester has enough coffee,” her mother said. “Talley, you come into the kitchen with me.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Yes, Aunt Edna.”

Ruth picked up the stainless coffee urn and walked out onto the pool deck. “More coffee?”

Mr. Manchester looked up, studying her closely. “Yes, thank you.”

She filled the cup, catching the strong whiff of his Old Spice aftershave. Mr. Manchester’s bold appraisal of her rattled her nerves, but she held the coffeepot steady and didn’t spill a drop. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Thank you, Ruth.”

Hearing him speak her name was jarring. Not that he wouldn’t know it. Most of the regular guests did. But he said it like her name carried more meaning than it should.

“Yes, sir.”

She left him sitting by the pool, feeling his gaze follow her as she reentered the main building to find Mama standing there watching.

“Everything all right?” Mama asked.

“Sure. It’s fine.”

Annoyance flattened her lips. “Did Mr. Manchester say anything to you?”

“Just ‘Thank you, Ruth.’”

“Did he say anything else? You look flustered.”

“Just the way he said my name was kind of weird.”

“How so?”

“Like it was funny.”

Mama laid her hand on Ruth’s shoulder. “Don’t mind him.”

“You sure everything is fine, Mama?”

“As right as rain.” Whatever Mama was thinking slipped behind her welcome-day smile. “Now let’s get that breakfast served.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN RUTH

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

RUTH

Monday, June 19, 1950, 3:00 p.m.

“We should tell ghost stories tonight by the wreck,” Ruth said to Talley as they picked up the empty glasses at a poolside table.

Talley’s eyes widened as she dumped an ashtray into a bucket. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?” Ruth asked. “It would be fun. I could ask Daddy to build a fire near the shipwreck, and we could roast marshmallows.”

“And if you start talking to spirits, what makes you so sure that one of them might not appear?”

“We can only hope!”

“No, you shouldn’t wish for things like that, Ruth Wheeler. You stir up trouble among the dead, and you’ll end up with a lifetime of worry.”

“How do you know that?”

Talley jutted out her chin. “I just do.”

Ruth collected the remaining glasses and wiped down the table. The more she thought about the bonfire and maybe a little spirit summoning, the more she liked it. “We’ll ask Mama. If she thinks it’s a bad idea, then we won’t do it.”

“Aunt Edna is not going to like it,” Talley said. “No one from back home is crazy enough to tempt the spirits.”

“But she’s not from there now. She’s from here. And we don’t mind the spirits as much.”

“Anyone who leaves home always carries a piece of it with them.”