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“I confess, when they told me what you’d named him, that was the first thing I thought.” She smiles, then gathers up the stack of bills and catalogs. “They’re out prepping a pool that the two of them will hopefully be sharing soon. I know you’re probably off the clock, but you could stay and watch the meeting if you wanted to.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

With a nod, Dr. Jin—er,Opal—heads off toward the stairs. I turn back tothe enclosure and watch Lennon for a few more minutes. I want to believe that he looks content, even in this tiny cubicle, which is nothing compared with the pool he’ll be given wherever he ends up in. I know it will never be the same as the open ocean, but I have to believe he’ll be okay.

I hope Rosa finds someplace that isn’t too far away, so I can maybe go visit him from time to time. I wonder, when I do, whether he’ll remember me.

“I’ll always remember you,” I whisper.

His back flipper kicks out a few times, and I hope he’s having a good dream.

I’m about to turn away when a slip of yellow paper catches my eye. I crane my head. An envelope has fallen down into the pen.

I open the gate as quietly as I can so as not to disturb Lennon and grab the envelope. It must have fallen from the stack of mail that Opal was carrying.

I flip it over.

The card wasn’t senttous. Rather, the center is the return address. This card was supposed to be mailed to…

My heart leaps into my throat.

Grace Livingstone

612 Carousel Blvd.

The address, however, has been crossed out with a thin red marker. Beside it, someone at the postal service stamped the card:DECEASED: RETURN TO SENDER.

Livingstone. Could Grace Livingstone be Maya’s grandmother? But if so, what connection does she have to the center?

I’m peeling open the envelope before I know what I’m doing. Inside is a white card with a watercolor print of a sea turtle on the front, and words in flourishing script:Thank You.

I open the card and recognize Rosa’s handwriting, which I’ve seen plenty on the weekly schedules.

Dear Mrs. Livingstone,

It’s occurred to me that in all the years in which you’ve been a dedicated supporter of our center, I have never personally expressed my gratitude. We’vereceived your most recent donation, and I want to tell you how your monthly contributions have made an enormous impact on our ability to rescue and care for our patients.

Per your recent note, I am so saddened to hear about your declining health, just as I am incredibly honored to hear that you’ve thought to include our center in your will. I promise that you and your generosity will not be forgotten, and that we at the Fortuna Beach Sea Animal Rescue Center will do our best to honor your legacy by being careful stewards of such a gift.

Thank you, thank you—

Yours most sincerely,

Rosa Erickson

I read through the letter three times. Recent donation. Monthly contributions. Honor your legacy.

Deceased.

I tuck the card back into the envelope, dazed. Though I can’t know it for sure, I have no doubt that Grace Livingstoneis—or, was—Maya’s grandmother. And the fact that she gave money to the center every month…

It’s too coincidental.

It’s a sign.

A sign from the universe.

Suddenly, I know what the right thing is.