“They won’t.”

“They did after Mom died. They will again.”

“When do you think the time will be right? Is there a perfect alignment of stars in the sky?”

“Dalton has a lot of pressure on him right now. He’s building the ten houses and needs to get them roughed in so they can collect the next installment from the buyers.”

“It’s that tight?”

“It always is and always will be. Dad drained the coffers to buy the land.”

“There’s never a good time to drop bad news. I know. I did it wrong on graduation night. I should have handled it better with you and Matthew. Do a better job than I did.”

“What made you think of that night?” Dani asked.

“Finally cleaning out my old drawers. I found the picture of Matthew, you, and me taken at graduation.”

“I remember that night. Matthew wanted to come after you, talk to you until you saw things his way. I convinced him to wait. Let you cool off.”

“And the next day I left.”

“He rested all his dreams on you working with us. When you left, we tried to make a go of the business, but we couldn’t agree on anything. We needed you to be our glue. We lost the work-to-own deal two months after starting. My dad hired me, but working in my father’s office and living at home made me feel like a loser. Matthew was struggling to get work too. We both understood how much it sucked to be left by you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not blaming you. Just explaining.”

The old bruises on her heart could still ache. “You have Bella. You and Matthew are friends.”

“Yes. And yes.” Wariness shadowed the silence. “Are you going to go into business with him?”

“I have his proposal. I read it. But it doesn’t change my mind.”

“You really are leaving?” Challenge crashed against the caution.

“I’m not pulling any punches this time. Everyone’s had fair warning that I’m leaving, so I’m not messing up anyone else’s lives.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR RUTH

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

RUTH

Friday, June 23, 1950, 7:45 p.m.

The sun dipped closer to the horizon as Carlotta stood on the small stage of the shipwreck. A soft ocean breeze brushed over calm waters and ruffled the edges of her crimson skirt as she sang “Blue Moon.” There were no horns or pianos, just the gentle rumble of the waves, but Carlotta’s voice was so smooth nobody missed the instruments. The hotel guests, along with a couple dozen locals, had gathered chairs from around the pool and home to create a semicircle around the wreck.