It took them nearly a half hour to clear the paintings out of the room and line them up along the walls in the living room, where they had more space to spread out the pictures. The sizes were fairly standard at twenty by twenty-four, though there were a few eight-by-tens and a large one that was thirty-six by forty.

“I also found sketch pads in the wooden chest under the window.” Ivy had opened the chest and found dozens of sketch pads with pages full of drawings. “All I ever saw was her scribbling pictures on scrap paper. I had no idea she had so much talent.”

“She didn’t start painting until after you moved to New York. A lifetime of unpainted works couldn’t be contained anymore. No more sketches. All her spare moments were spent bringing color to her art. Dorothy left Kansas and moved to Oz permanently.”

“I wish she’d told me.”

“She wasn’t ready to share it with you.”

“But she showed you.”

“It was our common ground. Painting with Ruth kept me sane. Much like cooking with her kept you grounded.”

“She recognized what we each needed.” Ivy reached for a small painting of a fair blonde wearing a blue dress, facing the ocean. The vibrant colors oddly conveyed a sense of loneliness. “She said her mother always wore a blue dress. It was her trademark.”

“What do you know about Edna?”

“Not much. She was born in the western part of the state in 1902 and moved here when she was eighteen. She found work at a small hotel and soon after met the man she would marry.”

“When did they pass?”

“Jake died in 1960 and Edna in 1975. After Jake died, Ruth and Edna ran the Seaside Resort together. My mom grew up here before she moved to Richmond, and she and I were back five years later.”

“You never talked about your mother when we were growing up,” Dani said.

“I don’t remember her really. Seems it’s always been Ruth and me.”

Dani drew in a quick breath. “It must have been awful for your mother to know she was sick. Just the idea of leaving Bella behind breaks my heart.”

“You won’t.”

Outside, the ocean’s rhythmic roar continued as it had and would forever. Ivy studied the picture of Edna. From all Ruth had said, Edna had lived a full life. She had never thought of her as lonely.

Dani selected a painting, tore off the paper, and was rewarded with a vividly colored portrait of a young Ivy and her mother. A riot of curls highlighted by the sun framed Ivy’s grinning, round face. She was clutching fistfuls of sand as her mother laughed. “You must have just arrived here.”

“I have faint memories of my mother driving us here. There was a song on the radio, but she wasn’t paying any attention to it or me.”