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“I can’t understand it,” I said. “I’d have thought he’d have tossed them in the fire.”

Arabella picked up one of the journals and opened it to the first page but closed it just as quickly. “She was fourteen when she wrote in this one. I can’t look. Not until I know if she’s alive or not.”

“It does seem invasive. Like a voyeur.”

“Exactly.” She touched my face with the tips of her cold fingers. “Thank you for being here. You’re so wonderful. Do you know that?”

I smiled and covered her hand with mine before bringing it to my mouth for a soft kiss. “You’re pretty wonderful yourself. Let’s take a break from this and have a sandwich.”

“Your mother’s coming by soon to help me figure out what to do to get this place on the market. Maybe she’ll remember something about Sally.”

I helped Arabella gather the cards and put them in the right envelopes. She then tucked everything back into her mother’s keepsake box, carrying it down to the kitchen.

While I made her lunch, she sat hunched over the small table, reading the cards again. They made her smile, then tear up, then smile again.

My mother arrived a few minutes later. She walked into the kitchen, unraveling her thick scarf, her sweeping gaze taking us in, as well as the box on the table next to Arabella. “You found something of interest in the attic?” Mama asked in a tone that made me marvel at her intuition.

“You won’t believe it,” Arabella said.

“She found a box with some of her mother’s things.” I described the newspaper articles and yearbooks. “And there are birthday cards to Arabella every year since she turned five.”

“You should read the last two,” Arabella said, pulling them from the bottom of the stack and handing them to her.

Mama read for a second before she gasped and put her hand over her mouth. When she was finished with both cards, she handed them back to Arabella and took a seat at the rickety old table. “What do you want to do?”

“I guess I’d like to call the number and see if anyone answers. But it’s been fourteen years since she sent this.”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

“Later today,” Arabella said, sounding resolute. “After we meet with the Realtor.”

“She’ll be here any minute,” Mama said.

No sooner had she said that than the Realtor’s car pulled in front of the house. “You two stay inside where it’s warm,” I said. “I’ll go out to greet her.”

Maisie Templeton was around my mother’s age and had been in business for as long as I could remember. She knew the territory better than most. I felt hopeful she could advise Arabella about the market and what we needed to do to get the house ready.

I hustled over to open her car door, offering my hand as she plunged boot-clad feet into the snow.

“Hello there, Dr. Moon.” Maisie smiled warmly and gave me a hug.

“You’ve known me my whole life. I think Rafferty is just fine.”

Maisie’s hazel eyes sparkled behind attractive, thick-framed glasses. She wore her silvery hair in a spiky, short style that suited her. As long as I’d known her, she’d always dressed impeccably. I could remember noticing her panache when I was in high school and vowed to be that way someday myself.

“Tell me before we go in—how’s Dr. Collins holding up?”

I offered her my arm as the walkway was slick. “She’s all right. But motivated to sell, that’s for certain. There are a lot of bad memories for her here.”

“I’m assuming the house needs some work?”

“Yeah. Honestly, it needs a full gut job. Which we understand will affect the selling price. Regardless, Arabella doesn’t want to spend the time or money fixing it up before selling. She wants this done as soon as possible.”

“That’s fair.”

We were on the porch by this time. I opened the door and waited for her to pass through before following.

After we had Maisie and Arabella settled at the table with sandwiches and mugs of hot tea, Mama and I excused ourselves to give them a little privacy. I needed to get to work, and Mama had errands to do.