With all of that weighing so heavily on my mind, I knew I couldn’t talk about Greer. Not even to Amelia, who I’d known all my life. Not to anyone. But then again, my urgently ringing phone reminded me, Amelia could potentially have some pressing news from Cape Carolina. Or maybe she wanted to do an article about the foundation, which would bring attention to the great work we were doing. Greer would want that.

The phone had already rung four times when I slid to answer and hit the speaker button. “Hello.”

“Parker,” Amelia said cheerily. Too cheerily. So cheerily that something was clearly up.

“What’s going on, Amelia?” I asked.

“Oh, same old,” she said. She was lying. Amelia and Greer were totally, completely different people, but they had similar sparks that made it impossible for them to sit still. Amelia was always moving forward, just like Greer. I admired that about her, especially since, as my inability to talk about my dead wife in the past tense for three solid years indicated, moving forward was not my strong suit.

I didn’t say anything. That was the tactic I always used when I wanted someone to get to the point.

It worked. “Listen, Parker,” she said. “I need to meet up with you. It’s important.”

Suspicious. The casseroles had started flooding in the day after Greer died. If I hadn’t been so devastated, it would have been a huge ego boost. For a moment, I wondered if Amelia might be coming on to me. But then I remembered that she was married to Thad, a fact that I tended to conveniently forget. My family had teased me for years about my crush on Amelia.

“You’re-on-a-tight-deadline-and-need-a-quote important? Or a-secret-uncle-has-died-and-left-me-twenty-million-dollars important?” I smirked.

“Um.” She paused. “It’s decidedly more important than either of those things.”

“Can’t you just tell me now? My interest is piqued.”

She was quiet. I could tell she was deciding. “Yeah, no. I don’t think so. It’s a face-to-face kind of thing.”

“Well, damn,” I said.

“I’m leaving for Cape Carolina in the morning,” she said apologetically. “Maybe next week?”

“Oh my God,” I said. “It’s my mom. Or my dad. It is, isn’t it?”

She laughed. “No, Parker. You’re killing me. Everything is fine. Let’s just get coffee when I get back to Palm Beach.” I could hear noise on the other end of the phone, and as I was saying, “Well, you might be seeing me sooner than you think,” she was talking over me, saying, “I’ll text you to set it up. I have to run!”

I am a harper. Once I want to know something, I can’t think about anything else. Fortunately, I was heading to Cape Carolina tomorrow, too. So I wouldn’t have that long to wait.

When we hung up, I rubbed shaving cream on my cheeks and chin and saw that I was smiling. Human interaction wasn’t my favorite thing these days, but that phone call had been less painful than most. It had to be that Cape Carolina connection.