Page 106 of Last Wish Wedding

Kelsey didn’t bother denying it. “Noah talked to him Tuesday. Video call. They spoke for almost an hour.”

“And?”

“And nothing. Noah said he’s somewhere near the Azores. The connection wasn’t great.”

Amy’s expression softened. “He didn’t ask to speak with you?”

“Why would he?” Kelsey kept her tone deliberately light.

“Right. That’s why you’re sitting here looking like someone stole your puppy.”

“I don’t look like that.”

“You absolutely do.” Amy topped off Kelsey’s glass without asking. “It’s been what—seven weeks?”

“Six weeks, four days,” Kelsey corrected, then winced at her own precision. “Give or take.”

Amy’s eyebrows rose. “Not that you’re counting.”

“Shut up.” Kelsey took a larger sip of wine than she’d intended. Thankfully they had walked over on the footpath from their house through the cove beach, and then to the cottages. Tyler’s mom was coming to get him after dinner.

They fell silent. The boys had invented some new game that seemed to involve Ollie, a stick, and elaborate running patterns across the lawn. It was a perfect late summer evening, the kind that hinted at autumn’s approach while still clinging to summer’s warmth.

“So the historical society is giving you grief,” Kelsey said finally, steering the conversation back to safer territory.

Amy accepted the redirection. “Grief doesn’t begin to cover it. Every modification requires forms in triplicate, photographic documentation, and probably a blood sacrifice.” She sighed dramatically. “Truman’s will specified maintaining ‘historical integrity,’ but what does that even mean? Do I preserve every crumbling baseboard? Every warped floor plank?”

“What does your heart say?” Kelsey asked, genuinely curious now.

A spark of real passion lighted Amy’s eyes. “My heart says this place could be amazing. Not a museum, not frozen in time, but alive. A space where people create, connect, heal.” She gestured expansively toward the mansion. “Music in that grand salon with the bay windows. Art workshops in the east wing where the light is incredible. Yoga out here on the lawn. Maybe even residential retreats.”

“A healing arts center,” Kelsey summarized, smiling at her sister’s enthusiasm.

“Something like that.” Amy hugged her knees to her chest. “But the logistics are overwhelming. The renovation costs alone…”

“You could start small. One room at a time.”

“At that rate, I’ll be ninety before it’s functional.” Amy frowned at her wine glass. “I almost wish Truman had left it to Mac instead. At least he has the resources to do something with it, unlike the limited fund Truman left and my invisible savings.”

“Hmm. Not sure what Mac would have done with it. Maybe he’d have given it away.” Kelsey pointed out. “He hates being tied to places.”

The loaded observation hung between them.

“Have you considered what Mac suggested, about not working?” Amy asked after a moment. “About taking a position at the clinic board? Improving health care on the island?”

Kelsey shook her head. “I’m not quitting my job. The clinic needs nurse practitioners more than it needs board members.”

“You wouldn’t have to quit. Just… scale back. Consult. Direct resources where they’re needed most.”

“And live off Mac’s money?” Kelsey’s voice sharpened.

“It’s not just Mac’s money,” Amy reminded her gently. “You’re his wife. Legally, half of everything is yours.”

“That’s not why I married him.”

“I know that. But the fact remains.”

Kelsey watched Noah executing a cartwheel for Tyler’s approval. “I need the structure of work. The normalcy. It’s good for Noah to see nothing’s really changed.”