bike when I was six years old, his big hands covering my small ones as I clutched the handles of my pink Huffy and— Oh.
I almost drop the bike as I stare at my hands and a shocked understanding rushes straight into my brain. I almost had it last night, when I remembered the Sweetfern picture of my father and grandmother, but I’d put the wrong mental image next to it. I’d been thinking about Gran’s face: half shaded like always by her hat, tight with sadness. I should have been thinking about her hands. Bare of gloves for once, wrinkled and age-spotted, but otherwise unblemished.
I fumble in my pocket for the keycard to the Catmint House gate. It’s still there. Then I grab my phone, which is down to one percent battery. I’ve never been that low before, though surely I can still send a few texts? But I only get one out to Uncle Archer before the screen goes blank.
It doesn’t matter. I’ll get what I need to prove that I’m right, and then I’ll tell them everything. I push the bike through the gate, hop onto the seat, and take off.
I wake to the smell of bacon frying, and that gets me out of bed immediately. When I enter the kitchen Archer is standing in front of the stove, and Milly’s sitting at the table holding a steaming mug of coffee in both hands. She’s wearing the T-shirt I loaned her last night, her dark hair a little mussed and loose around her shoulders.
“Where’s Aubrey?” I ask, taking a seat beside Milly.
“Unclear,” Archer says. He uses a pair of tongs to transfer slices of bacon from the frying pan to a paper-towel-covered plate on the counter beside him. “She’s not here, and she sent me a strange text that raises more questions than it answers.”
“What did it say?” I ask.
Archer crosses over to the table and puts the bacon plate next to a rolled-up edition of the Gull Cove Gazette. “It said, There wasn’t a birthmark.”
Milly snatches a slice of bacon before Archer has time to draw his hand away. I help myself to two and ask, “What does that mean?”
“We’ve been puzzling about it all morning,” Milly says, breaking her bacon in half and nibbling at one of the edges. “I mean, Aubrey has a birthmark, so…” She shrugs. “There’s no reason she’d text us about it.”
Archer takes a seat, looking pensive. “I wish she’d answer her phone.”
Archer opens the Gull Cove Gazette and starts flipping through it. “When I leave, I won’t miss that half the daily news is about my mother,” he mutters.
Milly cringes. “They’re not talking about the gala again, are they?”
“No. Some painting she sold at Sotheby’s went for a small fortune.” He turns a page. “You know, Mother always had terrible taste in art. We used to joke about it. Theresa must’ve been guiding her all these years to turn her into a connoisseur.”
Milly and I exchange glances, and I can read an echo of what I’m thinking on her face: Theresa, again. We got more than a little distracted last night, but I think I was on to something about Theresa being unbalanced. There’s something creepy about a woman who spends most of her life in a seaside mansion with only her boss for company. But before either of us can say anything, the doorbell rings.
Archer’s brows pull together as he rises to his feet. “Maybe that’s Aubrey.”
“Is the door locked?” Milly asks.
“I didn’t think so, but…” He trails off as he leaves the kitchen.
My attention snaps back to Milly, who’s still eating her bacon slice. “Hi,” I say, feeling a quick, electric thrill at the thought of being alone with her again. Even if it’s only for a minute.
She swallows and takes a sip of coffee. “Hello.”
“I like your shirt.”
“Thank you. It’s very comfortable.”
My eyes stray to her legs. “It’s giving me…thoughts,” I admit.
“Keep them to yourself.” But she smiles when she says it.
The background murmur of indistinct voices grows louder, and Archer steps into the kitchen, with Hazel close at his heels, midsentence, “…sorry to interrupt your breakfast,” she says, then spots Milly and me and waves apologetically. “All your breakfasts. Hey, guys.”
“Hi,” we both say as Archer waves to an empty chair.
“It’s no trouble at all,” he says. “Do you want to join us?”
“No thanks. I just wanted to give you this.” Hazel unzips the tote bag