His grandmother smiled and held out a hand toward him, all delicate bones and paper-soft skin. Her eyes were clear. It eased him some. Until she asked, “Where’s Beth? She isn’t where she ought to be.”

The tightness turned to heaviness, weighing him down until he was sure he’d sink straight through the sandy soil and all the way to bedrock. “She’s just over to St. Mary’s, Mamm-wynn. Remember? She wanted to spread her wings a bit this summer.”

“My little rosefinch, always wanting to fly.” She smiled, though it fluttered down into a frown. “Are you certain she’s there, Ollie?”

“Of course I am.” Though even as he said it, worry slithered through him. She was supposed to write twice a week—it was his one request. He’d sworn he wouldn’t even step foot on the big island from May until September unless it was necessary for business, that he’d give her this semblance of independence so long as she wrote to him every Tuesday and Friday. A quick note to say all was well.

It had been a perfectly reasonable request, hadn’t it? Better, as he’d pointed out, than simply asking all the neighbors who boated between the islands for an update on her.

So why had it been two weeks since her last note?

He cast a gaze in the general direction of St. Mary’s, but glowering at the island wouldn’t make his sister remember her word. So, he wrapped an arm about their grandmother instead and guided her back toward the house. “Let’s get you back inside. I can hear your cup of tea calling to you.”

She chuckled and let herself be led. “All right, dearovim.” Leaning close, she whispered, “You were always my favorite.”

His lips pulled into a smile. She’d always said it to all of them—and loud enough for them all to hear. And somehow, they each believed her too. They were all her favorites, Morgan and Beth and him. Her favorites of all the people in the Scillies, in England, in the world. That was what made their little house here all they ever needed. What had helped Morgan never to rail at how his infirmities kept him home. What made Oliver eager to hurry back during each holiday from university and take up the mantle of the church here, rather than looking for a living elsewhere, when his uncle stepped down four years ago. What made Beth . . .