“We’re all more cautious.” Dani rose and surveyed the living room, now free of clutter. “You’ve made serious progress.”

“My birthday is next week. Once I hit the big three-oh, I can sell it. I want to be ready.”

“Has Dalton made an offer yet?”

“Not yet.”

“He’s always loved this place. Not to talk up my brother, but if you sold to him, he would never raze this place, even though the land is worth more.”

“He said he really wanted the land.”

“He’s always had a soft spot for the older homes. By the way, he sold the last of the houses he’s developing next door.”

“That’s great for him. Less stress for him. A good time to tell him.”

“Not quite yet. Dalton won’t take a deep breath until he’s finished building the houses and closed on the sales.”

“Ruth was sad to see the Seaside Resort go, but if anyone understood the value of a dollar, it was her.”

“Speaking of Ruth. Show me her pictures. I’m going blind, and I don’t have forever.”

Dark humor was very Dani, but it still caught Ivy off guard. “It could be decades before you lose your sight.”

“Or it could be a year.”

“Really?”

Dani shrugged off her jacket and rested it on the back of a dining room chair. “No guarantees in life, Ivy.”

“Point taken.”

Ivy opened the door to the spare room. She’d been avoiding looking in here ever since she’d unwrapped the paintings. All the other parts of the house oddly didn’t feel as personal as the art. This was a part of Ruth she’d kept to herself and rarely shared.

Dani flipped on the light. “It’s too dark in here.”

“Let me open the shades. The room gets great light this time of day.”

She moved around the paintings wrapped in brown paper and the easel with the half-finished picture of the wreck, which, when Ruth had painted it, would not reappear for another month. She opened the blinds, allowing bright sunshine to pour into the room.

Dani blinked, and her shoulders relaxed as she crossed to the easel. She ran her fingers over cleaned paintbrushes sticking up from a mason jar. “The first time Ruth held Bella, she pronounced her the prettiest baby she had ever seen outside of you and your mother. My life was not going to be easy, she said, but it would be amazing. I thought she was going to be so mad, but she was so sweet.”

“And you have been.”

“And somehow will continue to be.” She replaced the picture on the easel. “Enough about me. Paintings, please.”