She stopped by the front desk on her way out. Almost immediately, she wished she hadn’t. The young woman who’d checked her in was gone. In her place stood Harry Duggan, the hotel’s proprietor and manager. A busybody, as she recalled. The last time she was here, he’d asked her and Sister Agnes—in great detail—what “nun life” was like. And he had not been deterred by Agnes’s glare.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t recognize Madeleine. It was amazing what a nun’s habit covered, and not just physically: people saw it as a part of your identity. Out of it, you were a stranger. She’d felt that way herself.

Duggan, who looked to be in his mid-sixties, stood behind the desk where she’d checked in just a few minutes ago. When he saw her coming, he beamed. By the time she reached the desk, he already had a folded piece of paper waiting for her.

“Take a map,” he said as she approached. A half-finished pastry sat on a plate next to him, and his gray beard had crumbs in it. “Stepping out on your own? Or have you got friends here?” Before Madeleine could reply, he continued, “Nobody’s mentioned having visitors, especially American ones. Let me see, who’s got American friends or family round here? Isla, I reckon, at the pub. She went to New York once. I saw her at the chippy yesterday, and she didn’t say anything about you, though. And I suppose you’d be staying with friends if that’s why you were here?”

Madeleine wanted to say she wasn’t here to visit anyone, but that wasn’t precisely true. “I have no friends or family here, Mr. Duggan.” I have no family anywhere. “Just visiting.”

“Call me Harry. How long are you with us?”

“The next month, actually.” She’d have preferred to rent a cottage for so long a stay, but Jorsay had fewer rental cottages than the other islands, and they’d all been booked. At least the Merryweather wouldn’t break the bank.

His eyes widened. “Ah, you’re Madeleine, then! I know your name—we don’t have many who stay for that long. Welcome, welcome. Visiting, you said?”

Madeleine could be vague. Clearly, Harry Duggan wasn’t the person to ask about Jonathan. Better to keep her eyes open as she explored, and if she didn’t happen to spot him, to inquire with someone less nosy. “Um, well…”