Beth and I had run wild in the forest and to the pond on the property. I remembered begging our parents to move to Anchor Island permanently, but they’d always forced us to return to our lives in Northern California. Ones that required uncomfortable school uniforms and society parties.

And when I lost them, the people I’d loved most in this world, I’d let the farmhouse fall away. I’d been so young. But even after I’d come to my senses, I hadn’t been able to face this place or the memories it held. And in doing so, I’d let my favorite sanctuary almost be destroyed. It was a miracle the house hadn’t been burned to the ground.

Sheriff Raines had met me here the first day I returned. I’d nearly lost my lunch in the bushes when I saw the place. He’d offered to recommend some quality contractors to help with the vast number of repairs, but I’d politely declined. Instead, I’d done something insane. I’d vowed to do all the work myself.

It was part atonement, part grieving process. And I’d grown to love the work. A small shop space sat a few hundred feet from the main house and had gone mostly untouched. After a thorough cleaning, I’d made the space my home for the first year I was back on Anchor. It had taken longer than I’d hoped for the permits and to make sure there were no structural issues.

Now, I was living in the main house. I’d gone room by room, starting with the master suite. I’d hauled garbage, repaired walls and windows, refinished floors, and painted so many things I’d lost track. But I now had the master, kitchen, office, and one other bedroom in livable condition.

The kitchen was my greatest feat. I wasn’t sure why I’d poured so much time and money into a space I only used for coffee and frozen meals. But it looked like a dream. Maybe it was because my mother had loved the space so much. When we were in Marin, our family had a chef. But here on the island, my mother had always done the cooking. She loved seeing the smiles on Beth’s and my faces when she would call us in for a slice of berry cobbler or to sample a fresh batch of cookies.

I gave my head a shake, trying to clear the onslaught of memories. I had known this room would be the hardest. I focused back on the trash strewn across the hardwood floors. Some of the boards would need to be replaced, having swollen from being exposed to the sea air for such a long time.