Ivy ended the call, excited. She checked on Libby, ran her outside for a quick pee break, and inspected the pups. They all looked like sightless little creatures, but already their personalities were developing. The biggest pup wiggled away as soon as he’d eaten because he seemed to get hot. The light-brown female was the most laid back, and the little black-and-white female was the most vocal. They all were gaining weight and growing. Once the kids really got mobile, it was going to be bedlam.

She grabbed her purse, and as she locked the front door, she noted surveyors had arrived on the neighboring property and were staking out what must have been the new homes. Judging by the number of stakes, this cottage would have plenty of new neighbors next year.

Dalton stood in the center of the activity, wearing a heavy jacket, a skullcap, jeans, and work boots. He moved among the workers, walking with long, decisive strides. He was a man comfortable in his universe, and if Ivy was honest, she was jealous. For a time in New York, sandwiched between adolescence and adulthood, she’d thought she had found her sweet spot.

When she’d packed up her apartment, she’d assumed an older, wiser Ivy would know instinctively what would come next. But so far, she had no clue.

In her car, she backed out of the driveway, noticing the items she’d left with the FREE sign were again gone. “Bless you.”

Out on the beach road, she drove north and, five minutes later, pulled into the repair shop’s parking lot and made her way inside.

Bob stood behind the counter and was wearing large magnifying eyeglasses and examining the interior of a clock.

“Hello.” He put down the small screwdriver and removed his glasses. “I have your order.”

“I can’t wait to see them. There aren’t many pictures remaining of the Seaside Resort. Most were lost in the last storm.”

“Salt water ruins just about everything.”

Ruth had been heartsick after the December storm. Ivy had begged Ruth to come back to New York with her. She’d promised trips to the Met, great restaurants, and walks in Central Park. But Ruth had refused. Ivy had promised to return in a few weeks, but it had been too late.

Bob opened a manila folder that contained a strip of ten negatives in a clear plastic sleeve. “Like I said, the film was in surprisingly good shape. Developed it without issue.”

Ivy held up the negatives, trying to reverse engineer them into positives. She set the sheet aside and reached for the stack of prints, which were cool to the touch and smelled of developing chemicals. “It’s a miracle I found you, given all the digital photography these days.”

“Everybody uses their phones. No one asks for a camera when they take a picture. They ask for their phone.”