She spotted a bird’s nest filled with antique glass marbles on top of a stack of vintage hatboxes. An arrangement of apothecary bottles sat near a wire birdcage. Pieces of embroidery in oval frames, old wooden signs, and wonderful stoneware vases that should have held fresh flowers were tucked here and there. She also saw unmade beds, overflowing trash cans, and grubby bathtubs draped with discarded towels. Clearly Amy Anderson would rather cavort in the trees with her new husband than clean.

At the end of the hallway she opened the door into the only room that hadn’t been rented out. She knew because it was tidy. Judging from the family photos propped on the dressing table, the room had belonged to Judith Tucker. It occupied the corner of the house, including the turret. She visualized Kevin sleeping beneath the carved headboard. He was so tall, he’d have to lie across the mattress.

An image of the way he’d looked the night she’d slipped into his bed came back to her. She shook it off and made her way downstairs. As she stepped out onto the front porch, she smelled pine, petunias, and the lake. Roo stuck his nose in a flowerpot.

She wanted nothing more than to sink into one of the rockers and take a nap, but since she wasn’t going to join Kevin in Aunt Judith’s bedroom, she needed to find a place to stay. “Come on, Roo. Let’s go visit the empty cottages.”

One of the computer files had contained a diagram that marked the location of each cottage. As she approached the Common, she noticed the small, hand-painted signs near the front doors: GABRIEL’S TRUMPET, MILK AND HONEY, GREEN PASTURES, GOOD NEWS.

As she passed Jacob’s Ladder, a handsome, rawboned man came through the woods. He looked as if he were in his early to mid-fifties, significantly younger than the other residents she’d spotted. She nodded and received a brusque nod in response.

She headed in the opposite direction, toward Tree of Life, a coral cottage with plum and lavender trim. It was empty, as was Lamb of God. They were both charming, but she decided she’d like more privacy than the cottages on the Common afforded, so she turned away and walked back toward the more isolated ones that perched along the lane that paralleled the lake.

An odd sense of déjà vu came over her. Why did this place seem so familiar? As she passed the B&B, Roo pranced ahead of her, stopping to sniff at a clump of chickweed, then discovering an alluring patch of grass. When she came to the end of the lane, she saw exactly what she wanted nestled in the trees. Lilies of the Field.