She opened the sliding door and stepped out onto the balcony, breaking the quiet of the cocoon-like room behind her. The warm Hawaiian breeze caressed her neck, and the sound of the waves breaking in the distance made her feel grounded again.

Goose bumps ran up her arms, and she could feel her mother present there. Quinn could sense her approval of the reasons she was there.

People moved back and forth on the ground, some rather quickly, pulling their luggage, and others slowly strolled the paths bordered with thick, tropical vegetation. Nowhere did she see someone walking alone, as she had been only an hour before, performing what felt like the longest walk into the resort lobby and up to the front desk.

“Aloha,” a young woman had said, a brilliant white smile ready and waiting. “Welcome to Lahaina.”

Ona, as her name tag read, was beautiful with her long dark hair and sun-kissed skin. The woman radiated hospitality, her eyes warm and engaging. The youthfulness of her unlined face made Quinn feel much older than her thirty-two years.

After nearly thirteen hours of travel, she knew she looked a sight. She let her hair drop around her face like a curtain as she fumbled in her purse for a copy of the reservation confirmation.

“You’ll be in room five sixty-five,” the clerk finally said, sliding the key card across the counter.

Huge hotel faux pas, announcing her room number out loud, but Quinn was too tired to point it out to the fresh-faced clerk. She took the card, thankful for a room in which to get out of her travel clothes and shower.

“Have a great stay, Ms. Maguire,” the clerk said.

Maguire. Quinn felt like an imposter as she headed through the lobby to the elevators, following the small map that showed the sprawling resort and its many buildings. A minute later, she found refuge in a luxurious suite that looked out onto stunning scenery.

The sudden lump in her throat surprised her, but, then again, Maui was supposed to be a lovers’ paradise, and watching the people below reminded her of her solo status. She instinctively thought to call her mother and regale her with a description of the beauty before her and the details of her trip over, but, just as suddenly, she remembered the reason she was there, and that she’d never have that daily phone call again.

She didn’t turn to look at the vase on the bedside table where her mother’s ashes sat waiting. Quinn still didn’t know what she was going to do with them. That was one thing Ethan would be happy about—that the ashes were no longer in their home.