They were sprawled across Maia’s bed, both on their phones, which I didn’t love, but what I did love was the evidence of their bath-bomb business strewn about—the Epsom salts, the food coloring, the citric acid, the tropical fragrances.

I chatted with the girls for a minute—they were starting to have crushes on boys—and then I gave Maia a squeeze and a kiss and wished her a happy New Year.

“I love you, Mama,” she said.

I left the room but then I peeked back in. I wanted very badly to tell Maia the truth: I was going to Anegada with Russ because he planned to propose! We were going to be a real family!

But instead, I simply caught her eye and mouthed, I love you.

And I closed the door.

Irene

Irene watches Huck’s back as he leaves. What is she doing? She’s asking for more time because she’s scared. She has never felt so drawn to a man in her life and it’s terrifying; she doesn’t like the sensation of losing control.

But what did Russ’s accident teach her? What is the number-one thing?

She’s alive.

She, Irene Hagen Steele, has today and God knows how many days after. Why not spend those days falling headlong in love with Captain Sam Powers?

“Hey, Huck?” she says.

But he has disappeared down the stairs.

She shakes her head. Go to bed, Irene, she thinks. You can talk to Huck in the morning.

Yes, that’s a smart idea—but even as she decides this, she’s walking toward the villa stairs, envisioning kissing Huck through the open window of his truck.

And then she sees a flash of light. Headlights, more than one pair, are coming up the hill.

“Huck?” she calls out.

The headlights get closer, and before Irene can process what’s happening, four black SUVs pull into the driveway.

What must be ten people climb out of the cars and start up the steps. Irene’s instinct is to back up all the way to the far railing of the deck.

The first person to arrive at the top is a woman, red-haired, attractive. She flashes her badge and a piece of paper that could be a shopping list for all Irene can tell; she’d need her glasses to read it.

“Hello?” Irene says. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Agent Vasco, and as of right now, this villa, one Lovers Lane, is the property of the United States government.” She looks at Irene, not unkindly. “Mrs. Steele?”

Irene nods.