Edna took her wailing discovery home to her husband, Jake, and the two decided after seventeen years of marriage that a baby would be just the thing for them. They folded the little girl into their lives and, together with the hotel, weathered all of Mother Nature’s punches.

A wave crashed against the shore, pushing water right up to the tips of Ruth’s worn athletic shoes.

She turned from the ocean and walked up the dune, past the sea oats that brushed her fingertips. Looking at the Seaside Resort’s remains still pained her. One-hundred-and-fifty-mile-an-hour gusts had torn up the trees and shrubs and dumped them in the pool, rippled the asphalt parking lot, and ripped off the roofs of most of the bungalows and main building. Gallons of rain had poured inside the structures.

On the other side of the dune, she moved toward what had been the main building. The carpet in the lobby, which she’d just installed two years ago, was soaked with rain. The seashell wallpaper was peeling off the walls in large strips, and sunlight streamed in through the cracked roof. The Seaside Resort might have had more lives than a cat, but she’d used up her last.

“I’ve taken the offer on the property, Mama.” The practicality of selling didn’t soothe her guilt or anger. “Pained me good to sign the papers yesterday. But there was no way clear this time.”

A breeze blew cold from the ocean, and she closed her eyes as she searched for signs her mother was listening. Of course, she didn’t hear anything. Like Ruth, Mama never was a woman of many words. No bear hugs or sloppy kisses. But steady as she goes and always there. And Mama could guard secrets as close as old Neptune himself.

“I’m not crazy enough to think they’ll save the hotel. Only a fool would try. Too expensive.” She’d saved what she could from the damaged buildings and stowed it in her cottage, packing each room nearly to the ceiling. Tossing away what she’d paid good money for seemed sinful. “What remains of the resort will be razed. But maybe that’s for the best. Time for something new.”

The money from the sale of five acres of prime beachfront property would clear out Ruth’s debts and leave her with enough to get her to the grave. There’d be no extra money for her granddaughter, Ivy, but Ruth’s cottage, built a century ago with timbers from a demolished church, would bring a tidy sum.

“Blessed by God,” her daddy used to say about the cottage. Considering it was two hundred yards from the Seaside Resort and hadn’t lost a shingle, she reckoned that was true.

Whatever the reason for the cottage’s endurance, Ruth saw it as a blessing. Ivy had a chance for a fresh start, whether she chose to live here or sell. No better gift Ruth could give.

Ruth turned her back on the ruins and faced the ocean. The brisk salt air burned her lungs and fisted around her heart as she moved across the sand. Wind brushed her face.