“I’ll be on my way,” Abe said when they’d reached the first level, a smile wreathing his mouth. “Say, have you gone to see Opal yet?”

Opal. Opal.

Piper rooted around her memory bank for that name. Hadn’t Mick Forrester mentioned an Opal and written down the woman’s address? Why did everyone think she would visit this person? Obviously, she needed to get some answers. “Um, no. Not just yet.”

He seemed a little disappointed, but hid it quickly. “Right. Well, it was nice to meet you, Piper. Don’t forget to give me a wave when you see me outside the museum.”

“I won’t.” She handed him the toolbox carefully, making sure he could take the weight. While watching him head for the door, his feet shuffling, the stiffness in his legs obvious, an idea occurred. “Hey, Abe. I’ve got a pretty flexible schedule here, and the museum is only a quick walk. So . . . like, I don’t know, if you wanted to sit outside and read your paper more than twice a week, I could walk over and help you climb the porch.”

Why was she nervous this little old man was going to turn her down?

Is this what a man felt when he asked for her number?

Her nerves settled when Abe turned to her with a hopeful expression. “You would do that?”

“Sure,” she said, surprised by how nice it felt to be useful. “Friday morning? I could meet you outside the hardware store after my run.”

He winked. “It’s a date.”

* * *

Hannah had sworn off booze, so they avoided any more trips to the winery. Instead, they cleaned. Even put up some green-and-white striped curtains in the apartment. On Brendan’s suggestion, they visited the lighthouse and took a day trip to the beach, although the abundance of rocks and the need for a sweatshirt by three p.m. made it nothing like the coastline in California. Still, Piper found herself relaxing, enjoying herself, and the rest of the week went by faster than expected.

She went out on her run Friday morning, finishing up outside the hardware store where Abe waited, a rolled-up newspaper tucked under his arm. He peppered her with questions about life in Los Angeles on the walk over to the maritime museum—he was yet another man who’d rarely ventured outside of Westport—and she left him in the Adirondack chair with a promise to meet him again tomorrow morning.

Piper walked down to the end of one of the docks in the harbor and dangled her feet over the side, looking out at the wide mouth of the Pacific.

What was Brendan doing at that very moment?

She’d kind of hoped distance and time would rid her of the adamant tingle she felt every time she thought of him. But three days had passed, and his image still popped into her mind with annoying regularity. This morning, she’d woken up with a start, jerked into an upright position, and the memory foam had blocked her forehead from ramming into the upper bunk. And she’d drifted back down to her pillow with an enamored sigh.

Was he thinking about her?

“Ugh, Piper.” She surged to her feet at the end of the dock. “Get your life together.” She needed another distraction. Another way to absorb some time, so her thoughts wouldn’t keep drifting back to Brendan.

Maybe now was a good time to solve the mystery of this Opal character.

Piper had taken a picture of the address Mick gave her outside No Name, and she scrolled to it now, tapping it with her thumb. Distraction achieved. She’d told Mick she’d visit the woman, and with a whole day in front of her, there was no time like the present.

She punched the address into her map app, snorting to herself when she arrived after a mere two minutes of walking. Opal lived in an apartment building overlooking Grays Harbor, and it was kind of weird, buzzing someone’s apartment without calling ahead of time, but the vestibule door unlocked immediately. With a shrug, Piper took the elevator to the fifth floor and knocked on the door of apartment 5F.

The door swung open and a woman Piper estimated to be in her late sixties leapt back, a hand flying to her throat. “Oh God, I thought you were my hairdresser, Barbara.”

“Oh! Sorry!” Piper’s cheeks burned. “I wondered why you buzzed me up so fast. You are Opal, right?”

“Yes. And I’m not buying anything.”

“No, I’m not selling anything. I’m Piper. Bellinger.” She put out her hand for a shake. “Mick told me I should come see you. I’m . . . Henry Cross’s daughter?”

A different kind of tension gripped Opal’s shoulders. “Oh my Lord,” she breathed.

Something charged the air, causing the hair on the back of Piper’s neck to stand up. “Did you . . . know me when I was a baby, or . . . ?”

“Yes. Yes. I did.” Opal pressed a hand to her mouth, dropped it. “I’m Opal Cross. I’m your grandmother.”

* * *

I’m your grandmother.

Those words sounded like they were meant for someone else.

People who got ugly knitted sweaters on Christmas morning or fell asleep in the back of a station wagon after a road trip to Bakersfield. Her mother’s parents were living in Utah and communicated through sporadic phone calls, but Henry’s . . . well, she’d stopped wondering about any extended family on her biological father’s side so long ago, the possibility had faded into nothing.

But the woman hadn’t. She was standing right there in front of Piper, looking as if she’d seen a ghost.

“I’m sorry,” Piper whispered finally, after an extended silence. “Mick told me to come here. He assumed I knew who you were. But I . . . I’m so sorry to say I didn’t.”

Opal gathered herself and nodded. “That isn’t too surprising. Your mother and I didn’t end on the best terms, I’m afraid.” She ran her eyes over Piper once more, shaking her head slightly and seeming at a loss for words. “Please come in. I . . . Barbara should be here for coffee soon, so I’ve got the table set up.”

“Thank you.” Piper walked into the apartment in a daze, her fingers twisting in the hem of her running shirt. She was meeting her long-lost grandmother in sweaty running clothes.

Classic.

“Well, I barely know where to start,” Opal said, joining Piper in the small room just off the kitchen. “Sit down, please. Coffee?”

It was kind of disconcerting the way this woman looked at her as if she’d returned from the dead. It felt a little like she had. As if she’d walked into a play that was already in progress, and everyone knew the plot except her. “No, thank you.” Piper gestured to the sliding glass door leading to a small balcony. “B-beautiful view.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Opal settled into her chair, picking up a half-finished mug of coffee. Setting it back down. “Originally, I wanted an apartment facing the harbor so I could feel close to Henry. But all these years later, it just seems like a sad reminder.” She winced. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so casual about it all. It helps me to be blunt.”

“It’s fine. You can be blunt,” Piper assured her, even though she felt a little jarred. Not only by the sudden appearance of a grandmother, but by the way she spoke of Henry like he’d only passed yesterday, instead of twenty-four years ago. “I don’t remember a lot about my father. Just small things. And I haven’t been told much.”