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important to me.
    “I’m pretty good at facing things alone, Mother. You taught me that, after all. And it would take a lot more than just a riddle on a tombstone and a silly dream to make me spend any time with you at all.” I drew my hand out of my pocket to look at my watch, realizing that I couldn’t tell the time because my hand was shaking so badly.
    I continued, forcing my voice to remain calm. “I’m going inside to talk to the person in charge, and then I’m heading back to the office. If I don’t see you before your trip back home—wherever that is—have a nice flight.”
    She didn’t try to stop me this time as I turned on my heel and headed toward the church. I’d almost reached the front doors before she finally spoke. “I’m sorry, Mellie. I’m sorry I had to leave. I know you don’t believe that now, but I had to go.”
    I kept walking, feeling the tears freeze in my eyes.
    “I smell the ocean, Mellie. And I know you do, too.”
    I pulled open the door and stepped inside, the babble of voices rising behind me like the tide. I let the door bang shut behind me but not before the wind blew in the pungent scent of the sea.

    The rest of my day didn’t go any better. Two of my offers were rejected—one without a counter—and another house I had under contract in Ansonborough failed the inspection. Repair estimates were hovering around ten thousand and the buyers were balking.
    I was in a foul mood when I returned to my empty house and the cold turkey potpie Mrs. Houlihan had left for me in the oven. I ended up feeding half of it to the dog, and then, in a moment of desperation, I decided to take him for a walk.
    The day had warmed up considerably, and even now—with the sun setting in wintry pinks and oranges on the horizon—the temperature was bearable. I pulled on my coat and gloves and dressed General Lee in the new argyle sweater Nancy Flaherty had knitted for him and headed out the door. I was embarrassed to be seen with him, having never before been offended by dog nudity, but he’d begun shivering uncontrollably when the thermostat hit below sixty. Nancy told me I could either buy him a condo in Florida or I could accept the sweater.
    As usual, I allowed General Lee to decide which route we’d take and we headed out at a brisk trot, the dog a couple of feet in front of me, his nose leading the way, pausing now and again to sniff a front step or growl at a stranger. General Lee had taken it upon himself to become my guard dog, attempting to keep strangers at bay until he had a chance to inspect them. Even then, he was picky about whom to make friends with and would continue to growl if they didn’t pass his inspection. Unfortunately for him, despite having the heart and soul of a police dog, he appeared about as threatening as an argyle-draped sofa cushion.
    I was so busy thinking about counteroffers and inspection reports that I didn’t realize where General Lee was taking us until it was too late. He stopped in front of a set of wrought iron gates on Legare Street, and I had to blink twice before I realized where we were. My gaze swung to the house number stenciled in gold on the mailbox attached to the gate and I blinked again: Thirty-three Legare.
    The square brick Georgian house with the two-tiered portico dominated the garden that grew up around it, which had been brightly colored and intricately designed like jewelry for an already-beautiful woman. I remembered having tea in these gardens with my grandmother and I felt the old sadness return.
    Eager to leave, I tugged on the leash but General Lee seemed adamant about staying. I was about to pick him up and carry him back home when I realized we weren’t alone. Startled, I turned to examine the lone figure standing about ten feet away from me near the fence, her study of the house apparently interrupted by our arrival. As usual, I wasn’t wearing my glasses—my one nod to vanity—but I was struck by how familiar she