Is it possible to thank someone who’s been dead for more than eighty years?
Since we found all of Rose’s belongings in the barn loft, I’ve read through a good bit of the diary, but I haven’t had the chance to really examine everything in the trunk.
Honestly, I’ve been nervous.
“I don’t want to hurt anything in here,” I say and sit back on my heels. “At a hundred years old, this stuff has to be fragile.”
I brush my fingers over the bouquet of dried flowers, relieved when they don’t crumble.
I very carefully move them onto the sheet pan I lined with parchment paper and carry them into the kitchen.
They’ll be safer on the counter where I can’t accidentally sit on or drop them.
That would be my luck.
The trunk is a treasure trove. I find a dress—a beautiful red gown with black gloves and black shoes that Rose must have worn to a formal event. There is even a gorgeous hairpin made of rhinestones and black feathers.
“I’ll definitely save this for later. Maybe I can wear it to something someday.”
I systematically take every piece out of the trunk, lay it all on the floor, and then take a deep breath and look around at everything.
There’s a photo album that I can’t wait to dig into. There is a large envelope full of papers that look official. Maybe the deed to the land and lighthouse is in there. That would be awesome. We have a more recent deed, but the original one from the 1860s when the land was purchased has been lost over time.
There’s a jewelry box that has some really beautiful pieces inside, at least from the quick look I take, not wanting to get too stuck on any one thing and not make my way through the whole trunk.
“I can take some of the pieces to Mr. Hart to see if anything is real or if it’s costume jewelry.”
Hart Jewelers has been a staple in Huckleberry Bay for many years.
There are newspapers that announce the end of World War I.
And, in the very bottom of the massive trunk, I find a loose photo.
“Well, isn’t he handsome?” I murmur and flip it over, hopeful that someone wrote the man’s name on the back.
D.P. 1870.
I blink and then quickly flip it back around, crawling over to hold the photo under the light of my lamp so I can see it even better.
“So, you’re DP,” I mutter. “You were a hottie, sir. I see what Rose saw in you for sure.”
The young man, likely in his mid-twenties, is dressed in a suit and posing for the photo.
“I wish it was just a little clearer,” I whisper. “Of course, cameras were a bit different than they are now.”
Okay, that’s an understatement.
I set the photo aside, excited to show it to June and Sarah later, and just as I’m about to carefully pack everything back inside the trunk since I have nowhere else to put this stuff, there’s a knock on the front door.
“Come on in,” I call out and smile when Apollo opens the door, then pauses when he sees the mess.
“Is this a bad time?”
“No, I was just looking through Rose’s things. You should go through this stuff with me, you know. She’s your ancestor, too.”
“I’d rather eat glass,” he says cheerfully. “I’m glad you’re fascinated by this stuff because I have zero interest.”
“But it’s so interesting.”
“Like I said, I’m glad you think so.”
“I found some clothes and jewelry. If it’s worth a lot of money, I’ll totally share it with you.”
He just blinks at me, and I shrug.
“Sorry, that’s not why you’re here. Why are you here? And where are the other guys?”
“Tanner and Wolfe were still playing pool when I left. None of us drank much…well, except for June. But it was fun to let off some steam. Wolfe’s good at the darts, but Tanner’s kicking his ass at pool, and Wolfe’s too stubborn to call it a night.”
“I’m glad they’re having fun.” I grin and gently lay the dress back inside the trunk, then close the lid. I keep the photo album out so I can look through it with a cup of tea later. “What’s on your mind?”
“Maybe I just wanted to come hang out with my sister for a while.”
I grin and reach over to ruffle my brother’s hair. “That’s nice. It’s a lie, but it’s nice.”
Apollo smirks, and then his expression sobers. I feel the first pang of concern.
“Talk to me.”
“I don’t want you to freak out.”
“I can’t promise that.”
He blows out a breath and rubs his hands together as if he’s suddenly nervous.
“Jesus, Apollo, what did you do? Rob a bank?”
“No.” He smiles softly and then shrugs one shoulder. “I’ve had some medical stuff going on, and I didn’t think I should keep it from you anymore.”