“Honestly, no. I’ve been consumed with the destruction of the Seaside Resort, Ruth dying, and moving. Once this place is sold, I’ll catch my breath.”

The small U-shaped kitchen was just big enough for one person and snug for two. This close to Dalton, she could smell the blend of freshly milled wood, salt air, and his scent. The room grew warmer.

She stepped back into the entryway and made her way among the boxes to the main room with the vaulted ceiling and stone fireplace that ran from the floor to the ceiling.

He followed Ivy along the narrow path toward the back sleeping porch. With a hard tug, he opened the back door and stepped outside, inviting in a cool gust of salty air. The chilled air felt good against her flushed cheeks.

He walked to the edge of the screened porch and stared out over the crashing waves. “I love this place. So will my father. He had a lot of very nice Seaside Resort vacation memories when he was four or five.”

“His family vacationed here just a few years?”

“After his father died, his mother stopped taking vacations at the Seaside Resort. But Dad’s said more than a few times that the beach got in his blood, and as soon as he was old enough, he moved back.”

“Ruth said she and her parents were in the business of making memories.”

“Made an impression on my father.”

Ivy had assumed Ruth had been friendly with the Manchesters because of her friendship with Dani.

“Your mother was young when she died,” Ivy said.

“Forty-six,” he said. “Taken too soon, like your mother.”

Shared losses had been the basis of her relationship with Dani when they’d met in elementary school. They’d been the half-orphan duo, forming their own select club. Both had known what it felt like to miss a mother, understood there was no time limit on grief, and cried with the other on birthdays and death anniversaries.

“Ruth was always kind to Dani, and that never was lost on me or my dad,” Dalton said.

“Is that why you bought the hotel land?”

Dalton worked the toe of his steel-tip boot into a bit of rot on the porch. “It was good business.”

“Be careful, Dalton; I’m going to peg you and your dad as soft touches. First bacon for Sailor and now a sympathy buy.”

A small smile tugged the edges of his lips. “Don’t worry about us. We’re good at making money.”

“I have no doubt.”

“I’ll make you a fair offer for the cottage.”

“I look forward to seeing it.”

He inspected a stack of black metal chairs from the hotel’s banquet room. “Not all this is sentimental.”

“No. Ruth could have told you down to the penny what she paid for each item in the hotel. The woman always guarded her pennies. Maybe she thought I could sell them and make a few bucks.”

“You’re selling the hotel stuff?”

“Donating,” she said. “It’s all in good shape and will benefit someone else more than the few dollars it’ll earn me.”