Chapter 8

She had, of course, left him everything she’d loved.

He’d spent the last three months simply trying to stay afloat. The inn, the funerals, the strangeness of being home. The closed door to the innkeeper’s suite at the far end of the second floor.

He said to the silence of the night, “I should have come sooner.”

He hadn’t wanted to. He’d loved his life. His parents had known as much.

Jeremiah Carver had been helping them around the inn, fixing the stuck chimney, cleaning out the stables, for the last three years. Cade hadn’t known. Because he hadn’t been here.

“No,” he said. “That isn’t fair. They could’ve—I’d’ve come. If they’d written.” Of course, his pearl agreed voicelessly. Of course you would have. You’re a good person. You are.