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“He’s staying back in the RV. I just could not get him to agree to the harness today, and he’s not well-behaved like your Octavius. He’d run away in a heartbeat if he could. That little man of mine has an adventurer’s heart, let me tell you.” When Sharon chuckled, her billowing duster cardigan and loosely wrapped pashmina twirled around her hips and thighs.

“Well, at least one cat around here has some sense,” Octo-Cat muttered, presumably referring to that Persian from earlier.

“Mommy, that mean cat won’t bother us again, will he?” Paisley barked.

I shook my head, unable to answer in mixed company. I really liked Sharon, but she was a gossipand a future reality star. If she got word of my special abilities, they’d no doubt become front-page news at some national rag before even a full day could pass.

We reached the beach, and Sharon slipped out of her sandals, sighing happily as her painted toes sunk into the sand.“Still a bit early in the season, but, oh, it’s nice.”

Charles and I followed suit and padded after her with our bare feet as Paisley splashed around in the ebbing surf and Octo-Cat trotted after us from several yards up shore, refusing to get anywhere near the water.

“It’s like one giant litter box out here,” he mused. “It would be perfect if not for all the water.”

We stopped at an old wooden dock with a paddle boat tethered to either side. Sharon traipsed to the very end and then sat with her legs dangling toward the water.

“I hope you don’t mind, I made some supper for the critters, too.” She opened up the basket and handed me a lobster roll wrapped snugly in wax paper.

“Oh, yeah.” Octo-Cat quivered, his eyes growing comically wide. “Come to papa, you delicious little thing.”

I opened the savory-smelling package and set it on the dock in front of him, but Sharon reached over me and scooped it away before my gluttonous cat could manage so much as a single sniff.

“Almost lost your sandwich there!” she said breathlessly, then dipped her hand into the basket and pulled out a much smaller parcel. “This is for Octavius.”

I popped the lid off the small Tupperware container and set it down beside me, trying to keep my expression neutral.

“What fresh torment is this?” he snarled and stared daggers at both me and Sharon.

Paisley skipped over and stuck her snout in the mush Sharon had prepared for Octo-Cat. It appeared to be canned cat food slathered on a special type of cracker.

“Seafood medley on my own special snack biscuit recipe. Chessy loves it.”

“Chessy doesn’t have a choice, but I do.” Octo-Cat lunged at Sharon, causing her to drop the lobster roll she’d just narrowly saved from him before.

He grabbed it between those sharp, greedy teeth of his and took off running. Paisley used that opportunity to gulp down the specialty cat sandwich. Charles laughed, while Sharon looked like she was going to cry.

“It’s okay,” I said softly. “I’m much more of a bisque girl myself. I can’t wait to try yours.”

And with that, her eyes grew bright again. She talked me and Charles through the process of developing her new recipe as she ladled out a serving for each of us.

I listened to every single word, taking slow, contemplative spoonfuls into my mouth. The soup was rich and creamy, filling my stomach perfectly without the help of an added course.

I was grateful for the hot meal but had a hard time following the conversation when there was only one topic I wanted to discuss with Sharon.

When she finally paused to take a bite of her own meal, I saw my chance to get us back to the reason we’d all gathered there that night.

“So about my grandmother…” I started, then bit my lip and waited.

7

Sharon cleared her throat as she wrapped up her uneaten lobster roll and placed it back into the picnic basket.“Oh, sorry. Did you want this?” she offered with an uncharacteristic flush on her cheeks.

“Is it really that bad?” I choked out. Suddenly my chest felt heavy with the weight of an unknown shame. I’d asked for Sharon’s help because I was bursting with curiosity—not because I actually expected her to find something terrible about my missing family member.

Charles scooted along the dock until our hips were touching and then wrapped an arm around my shoulders.“I’m sure it’s nothing too big,” he reassured me.

Sharon cleared her throat again.“Wellllll.” She twisted her hands in her lap and refused to meet my eye, instead gazing out across the lake as the gentle ripples reflected the sunlight.

“Please just tell me,” I begged. My stomach threatened to give up the bisque that I’d just filled it with. “I need to know,” I added softly. “Please don’t make me wait any longer.”

Sharon nodded; a tuft of her short blonde hair caught the breeze and flickered distractingly.“It took me a while to find out much of anything. She’s changed her name, you see.”

“Oh, so she remarried?” Charles asked brightly, drumming his fingers against my upper arm. “I mean, that’s probably to be expected seeing as it’s been about sixty years.”

“Her first name,” Sharon corrected.