“No. But Miss Edna noticed everything. She must have seen Ruth’s wet clothes and my dazed expression. Both Ruth and Edna were good at keeping their secrets.” He looked down at the picture of the five girls and tapped his sister’s face. “In her last years, Bonnie and I spoke about that summer, and she regretted how she treated Ruth.”

“Ruth appreciated all you did for her the last few years,” Ivy said. “She said you made repairs but never charged her a dime. And you bought the land when she needed to sell.”

“Least I could do,” Mr. Manchester said. “It’s good to see these pictures. Takes me back. If I come across anything relating to the wreck, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks.”

He kissed Dani on the cheek. “I’m heading out. You good to see your way home?”

Annoyance edged Dani’s smile. “I’ll be fine, Dad. I have to pick Bella up from school soon.”

“Kiss my granddaughter for me,” Mr. Manchester said. “Ivy, I’ll report back on that wreck.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

When he left, Dani remained behind. “I never knew he almost drowned. Neither he nor Ruth ever said a word to me.”

“Me either.”

“So much we don’t know about them.” For a moment Dani looked like she would say something more. Instead, she shifted her gaze to the great room. “Looks like you’ve made progress.”

“Putting a dent in it.”

“I know you’ve got a plan for all this. But I’ve been dying to see Ruth’s paintings.”

“Sure, why not? We can look at a few.”

In the studio bedroom, it was easier to see the art stacked against the walls without the clutter.

Dani walked to a small one and unwrapped it. It was of a little girl sitting on the beach and staring at the horizon. She held it up, squinted. “Mind if I look at it in better light?”

“Sure.”

Dani carried the picture into the living room and held it up to the large kitchen window. Full sunshine illuminated the bright-blue colors of the sky drifting behind the moody grays of the ocean. The little girl sat, her dark hair pulled into a ponytail, her arms wrapped around her gathered knees. She wore a white shirt and red shorts. A ship sailed in the distance.

“What do you make of it?” Ivy said. “Seems she’s trying to say something.”

“It’s you. And you’re watching a ship that’s moving away from shore.”

Ivy thought about all the hours she’d sat just like that on the beach, staring out, wondering what life was like somewhere else. She had been certain better was waiting for her. She’d thought she’d found it for a while, but it had slipped away as easily as that ship was moving away from the girl. She hoped—needed—to believe better was still out there.