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offerings.

“Almost, but not quite.” Liddy poured a cup of coffee for Emma and passed it to her. “Thanks for those. They all look luscious.”

“Madeline is back from vacation,” Emma said as she sat. Addressing Maggie, she added, “Madeline Affonseca is the best baker ever. She left for a well-deserved vacation right after New Year’s, and she just got back.”

“I know that name, Affonseca.” Maggie tried to place it.

“She’s married to Lou Affonseca, the barber.” Emma took a bite of lemony danish and rolled her eyes. “Perfection. Their son Teddy is a good friend of Chris’s. They get together every time Chris gets home.”

Maggie picked up an almond pastry and sniffed. “It even smells delectable.”

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Emma smacked herself in the forehead with an open hand. “I drove up Cottage to drop off the key with my assistant, Marian, so she can open the center this morning. She lives at the other end of Cottage, and she’s only part-time, so she doesn’t have a key, and I knew I’d be late getting there, because I wanted to see you before you left. Anyway—guess what I saw!”

“I give up. What?” Maggie licked sugary white frosting from her fingertips.

“A sale sign on your old house,” Emma announced, then sat back in her chair. “The house you grew up in is for sale.”

“Wait! What?” Liddy took her seat. “When did that happen?”

“Apparently very recently.” Emma took another bite of her danish. “The sign wasn’t there yesterday morning when I picked up Marian.”

“Didn’t they just dump a ton of money into it? Renovated from stem to stern?” Maggie nudged Liddy. “Didn’t you say . . . ?”

Liddy nodded. “Yeah. They redid everything. Even put on a gorgeous addition in the back.”

“Why would they be selling so soon after putting so much money into it?” Maggie wondered.

“Maybe the Wakefield ghosts were more than they could handle.” Liddy wagged her eyebrows.

“The Wakefield ghosts are harmless.” Maggie waved a dismissive hand. “Except for Great-Aunt Ida. I understand she was a beast.”

“Define beast.” Liddy added a little more sugar to her coffee.

“She was a ‘vengeful serpent of a woman.’” Maggie eyed a second danish. It was a long drive back to Pennsylvania. “That was a quote from my great-grandmother. Mom said my great-grandmother didn’t care for Ida, so I have no idea what it really means.”

“Maybe Ida got after the Blanchards’ kids,” Emma suggested. “Maybe that’s why they’re leaving.”

“More likely Peter—that’s the husband—got transferred somewhere,” Liddy said. “You don’t just pack up and leave a house you’ve spent lots of money to renovate unless you have a damned good reason.”

“Ida sounded like a good enough reason to me.” Emma wiped the corners of her mouth with her napkin, then stood. “I hate to leave before you, but I promised Marian I wouldn’t be long. Since the showing, we’ve had endless calls from people wanting to know how much longer the collection would be available for viewing and when we’re open.” She patted Liddy on the shoulder. “If you decide to sell any of Jess’s paintings, you’re going to clean up. I’ve had offers for every single canvas. The numbers are eye-popping.”

“I’m still thinking about it. But thanks, Em.”

“You take your time. There’s no hurry. We can keep them here as long as you like.” Emma leaned over to kiss Maggie on the cheek. “Safe trip, Mags. Keep in touch.”

“Will do.” Maggie stood to hug her friend. “I’ll be back sometime in the spring.”

“Glad we’re seeing more of you. We miss you when you’re not around.” To Liddy, Emma said, “I’ll let myself out.” She was halfway to the front door when she called back to the kitchen. “Maggie, you ought to think about buying your mom’s house.”

Maggie rolled her eyes. As much as she loved Wyndham Beach, her life was in Bryn Mawr, wasn’t it? Her kids were there, the home she’d shared with Art was there.

“Emma’s right, you know,” Liddy said after they heard the front door open, then close.

“You’re glad to see more of me, too?”

“Smart-ass. No. Well, yes, I am, but you should at least look at your mom’s house.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Idle curiosity if nothing else. Don’t you want to see the renovations?”

“I kind of liked the house the way it was. Besides, even if I was interested—which I’m not—I’m leaving as soon as I finish this danish.” Maggie held up the last bite. “So there’s really no time.”

“You could make time.”

“Liddy.”

“Okay.” Liddy held up both hands in surrender. “I won’t bring it up again.”

And Liddy hadn’t. Still, Maggie found herself turning onto Cottage Street on her way out of town, though technically it was out of her way. She just wanted to see the house one more time before she went home. She parked across the street and took it in, its innate hominess, its weathered cedar siding, long since grayed by the salt air. Even in the chill of a late January morning, the shrubs and trees deep in hibernation, it was still beautiful, and deep in her heart of hearts, it was still home.

She wondered who would end up buying it and living in the rooms where she’d grown up.

On a whim, she wrote down the name and number of the Realtor, then sat for a few more minutes, thinking about the years she’d spent under that roof, the happy years when her sister was still alive, and before her parents’ divorce. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. She’d already decided she was going to stop at the pastry shop to pick up some goodies to take home to share with Natalie and Daisy, who’d spent the weekend at her house to enjoy her wide-screen TV and the story hour at the Bryn Mawr Library.

She’d not been completely honest with Liddy or Emma. The truth was Maggie was dying to see inside the house. She’d wondered about the renovations and couldn’t deny her curiosity. This could be her one and only chance to check it out. She took her phone

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