“Think about what it takes to run the kitchen as well as the front of the house. It’s a hell of a job for any one person. You run the kitchen one hundred percent, and I take care of the rest.”

He was right. Running a café or restaurant alone was herculean. Over a hundred hours a week, easy. She’d have her freedom if she worked alone, but would she really be free to live a life if she was strapped to work all the time? Ruth had proved that was a long, hard road. “I’ll be fine.”

He was chuckling when he hung up.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE IVY

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

IVY

Wednesday, January 26, 2022, 6:00 a.m.

Restless, Ivy rose at six the next morning. In the windy blackness, she took Libby outside, fed her, and changed the puppies’ bedspread. As her coffeepot gurgled, she jumped in the shower and, remembering Dani’s comment about dressing nicely, took time to dry her hair and apply makeup. Jeans and a black V-neck were still her go-to, but they looked decent.

With still time to spare before Dalton arrived, she slipped on a coat, grabbed her coffee, and walked out to the wreck. The air was cold and the gusts brisk as the sun now smoldered below the horizon’s edge.

More sands were gathering around the blackened timbers, and she suspected soon the beach would reclaim the Liberty T. Mitchell. She closed her eyes, listening to the gulls squawking and the waves crashing. No sign of the wolfhound or, thank God, the whisper of spirits.

Ivy skimmed her fingers along the wood. She was sorry to see it go. “Why appear now for me and for Ruth over a half century ago?”

The wind whipped the edges of her jacket and ruffled her hair around her face but offered no answers. The wreck’s reappearance was coincidence, right? With no answers, she finally returned to the cottage, combed her hair, and finished another cup of coffee.

At 7:55, her doorbell rang, and in three quick strides she reached it and opened it a tad too quickly.

Dalton had showered, shaved, and combed back his dark, slightly silvered hair. The faint scent of aftershave floated in on a breeze, and the sight of him had her heart rushing to her throat.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Looking forward to it.”

“Bert, my foreman, is coming by every two hours.”

Ivy pulled her key off her ring and put it under the doormat. “Not highly secure but effective.”

“The guys will keep an eye on the place.”

She slid on her coat and did one last check of Libby before grabbing the register and tucking the black-and-white photos inside. After locking the front door, she followed him down the stairs and slid into the passenger seat of his truck, noting it had been freshly vacuumed. Her mouth curved. It said something when a man vacuumed for a lady.