Elaine carefully loaded a spoon with the fake vanilla cake, sniffed it, then tasted it. A look of confusion came over her. It took her a while to swallow, and a range of emotions crossed her face while she tried to render a verdict.

“It doesn’t taste as sweet,” she finally said. “You try it.”

To Annabelle’s dismay, she agreed. There was nothing wrong with the fake vanilla cake . . . but something about the flavor was a letdown. It didn’t seem as rich. It was still good, just not heavenly.

“Let’s invite the Hillenbrands over,” Elaine said impulsively. “Something this good shouldn’t be hoarded.”

The elderly couple across the hall had always been kind to them, and this would be a delightful way to thank them. Married for fifty-five years, the Hillenbrands had worked for decades as lamplighters, walking dozens of miles each night to light the streetlights, and again in the hours before dawn to snuff them out. The physical toll showed on their rail-thin frames and worn clothing.

Laughter abounded as the Hillenbrands took the same taste challenge and concurred with their conclusion about the cakes. Old Mr. Hillenbrand even offered to go to the store to fetch more ingredients if Elaine wished to keep developing her baking skills.

“I may take you up on that!” Elaine laughed. Annabelle hadn’t seen her this animated in years.

Was this the reason they had come from Kansas? So that Elaine could discover a love for baking? Or maybe it was so they could befriend this nice elderly couple. All Annabelle knew for sure was that today had been surprisingly pleasant.

Except that as they shared cake and laughter, Luke Delacroix was sweltering in prison, and she would always feel responsible for that. If she could do it all again, would she have done anything differently? Her gaze trailed outside. She would probably struggle with that question for the rest of her life.

Twenty-Three

After a week of haggling with bankers and brokers, the sale of the Pelican had been canceled, and now Gray had to scramble to rehire the crew. Many of the Pelican’s crew members had quit while the ship sat in port during the sale negotiation. With luck, he might be able to find some of them. Every cargo steamer had quirks, and an experienced crew was essential.

“Sign me back up,” Captain Haig said with a broad smile as they met on the bridge of the Pelican. The weathered old sailor wore his white hair in a ponytail that reached halfway down his back, for he’d always had a ruthless disregard for convention.

The Pelican’s bridge had the best view of anyplace on the ship, with windows providing a panoramic view over the harbor. Most of the bridge was taken up with the navigation equipment, but a small table near the back had just enough room for Gray, Otis, and Captain Haig to talk business.