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I nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

She looked confused. I saw her eye the boat barn.

“I actually wasn’t expecting to see you. I came to talk to your dad, but maybe another time would be better.” She stepped back toward the driver side.

“Hey, wait.” I jogged down the stairs. She stopped. “That’s going to be nearly impossible, darlin’.”

“Why?”

“My dad died three months ago.”

Her hand flew to her mouth. “What? I hadn’t heard.”

I shoved my hands in my front pockets. “Yeah. Heart attack while he was running the sander. Uncle Billy found him.”

Her eyes softened. “I’m sorry, Blake. Really I am.”

“Thanks.”

We walked to the porch and sat on the top step.

“I can’t believe I didn’t know,” she whispered.

“It’s not like you’re around here. How would you have known?”

“The news, maybe?” She looked at me and I saw the concern in her eyes. I didn’t want pity from her. I’d had my share of condolences.

“Happened during the draft. It didn’t get any coverage. I wanted it that way. I hate it when the press follows me. And they aren’t welcome on the island. I didn’t need any damn reporters at the funeral. He wouldn’t have wanted that either.”

“Right. I get that.”

“It was simple.” I didn’t know why I started in on the details. “He wanted a plain juniper box. He’s in the family cemetery next to my mom.”

Her eyes flashed with pain at the mention of my mother. I swore it was like one minefield after another between us. We couldn’t get away from the explosives before another one was set off. And we did it too each other, reminding the other of the pain from when she had left.

“God, your mom, Blake…” She hung her head. “I always liked her. She was always so sweet to me.”

“Probably because she needed another girl around here,” I joked, but I didn’t feel the lightness of it. My mom had loved Sierra. She had been crushed when Sierra had taken off and then we’d gotten her diagnosis.

I cleared my throat. “You said you were here to see my dad?”

She suddenly looked uncomfortable. “It was nothing.”

“It had to be something for you to drive over this early.”

She shook her head. “I wanted to know what he thought about some of Aunt Lindy’s things. That’s all.”

“Like what?”

“I—uh—I don’t want to bother you with it. I had no idea you were dealing with all this.” She brushed off her legs and stood from the porch. “I’ll take care of it. The beach charity van is going to be at the house soon anyway.”

“What are you doing with Lindy’s house?” I asked.

I had struck a nerve. “Sell it I guess.”

“You’re going to sell it? That house had been in her family for a hundred years.”

“I know how old it is. Do you have an issue with it?”