“It didn’t make sense to me at the time. Patsy Jenkins Rogers was distantly related. She had vision issues. I had no idea how the Jenkinses/Rogerses were connected to me.”

“Ann’s biological aunt. Edna’s sister.”

“I know now, thanks to you.”

Ivy was silent for a moment, thinking about the wreck that had now vanished. Even if the world between the living and dead wasn’t as transparent as it had been, she hoped Ruth could hear them now. “Do you think Ruth knew about Ann?”

“She had to have known.”

Ivy pictured Ruth wiping the edges of their plates as she served Dani and Ivy a late-afternoon snack at the hotel restaurant.

“It would have been nice to hear it all from her,” Ivy said.

“Random clues was about the best Ruth could muster.”

Ivy smiled. “I don’t suppose we could put my DNA into the system and figure out who was Ruth’s biological father.”

“It wasn’t Peter Manchester,” she said. “Ann and Peter were O-positive blood types, according to the genetic site. Ruth was AB negative. But I’ll throw your DNA into the mix and see if there are any hits. I might be able to figure it out.”

“What would Ruth say if she heard us talking about her birth parents so openly?” Ivy imagined Ruth turning away to stir a pot of fish stew or scrub a pan.

“She’d say it doesn’t matter.”

Ivy walked deeper into the gallery space, staring at the blank walls. “What do you think about displaying Ruth’s work here?”

“You want to sell?”

“No. But her work deserves to be seen.”

The tension in Dani’s shoulders eased slightly. “Have you ever considered having limited-edition prints made of her work?”

“Never really thought about it.”

“I think they could do very well. And there wouldn’t be the sticker shock of original art.”

“It would be worth the investment.”

“What about your next life? Your New York promotion?”

“What if I commit to stay for a while? See how it goes. What if we sold prints of Ruth’s work?”

“We?”

“Dalton said you’re one hell of a businesswoman. I’ll even put up a financial stake if that helps.”

Dani regarded her with narrowing eyes. “Is this a pity venture?”

“Not at all.” Nothing had felt righter. And it wasn’t because of Dani or Dalton. “Besides, Libby might like to see Lulu from time to time.”

“Diamond.”

“What?”

Dani shrugged. “The puppy’s name is Diamond now.”

“Right.”

“Don’t question the mind of an eleven-year-old. Just run with it.”

“Will do. What about my idea?” Ivy asked.

“I could be persuaded to consider it. But no promises. One step at a time.”

“No promises,” Ivy said, smiling.

“And while we’re talking about this venture, can you tell me why my brother sounded so relaxed and happy this morning when he called?”