"There's got to be more," Caroline said, and clicked back to the historical society's main page. Gracie leaned back in her chair, watching Caroline search through page after page. Max came out of his hiding place behind a purple hydrangea planted in the corner of the small backyard and sprawled on the patio between Gracie's and Caroline's legs. Fog started to roll in.

"Maybe we should call it quits for the night," Sam said at last, "and look some more tomorrow."

Gracie was getting tired, but she had to admit, she was now more than a little curious. She was not at all interested in buying the inn, but she sure would like to find out what happened to Hannah Montague.

Caroline stood under the rose-covered arbor, mesmerized by the b.u.t.tercup yellow inn and its garden in spite of their fading beauty. Max lay on the crushed sh.e.l.l path at her feet, panting after their run on the beach. After goofing off all day yesterday, hitting up one antique shop after another, staying up until too late looking for information about the inn, and sleeping away most of the morning, Caroline really should have stayed back at the cottage to work on her article. But she wanted to check out the town library, and she couldn't stop thinking about the inn.

Last night, Caroline thought for sure Gracie and Sam would want to come see it again after what they had learned, but her sisters had wanted to laze about today-Gracie reading in the overstuffed chairs in the cottage's living room, Sam doing counted cross-st.i.tch and watching cooking shows. She'd promised to be back in time for dinner at six and had headed out, taking Max with her. She headed straight for the Misty Harbor.

Caroline couldn't have stayed away even if she'd wanted to. The last time she'd been this intrigued by a place was when she set eyes on the twelfth-century Norman tower of St. James Church in Chipping Campden. Caroline sighed. She'd miss Briar Rose if she moved away, but something told her this would be a whole new adventure.

She held Max's leash loosely in her right hand and let her canine companion lead her around the garden. She steered him clear of the th.o.r.n.y English roses. They reminded her of her own garden back in Chipping Campden, and she drew in a deep breath.

"You know, Max, this could make an awfully nice home for you and me."

Max barked twice and danced around a few times, but then with his attention caught by a b.u.t.terfly fluttering from flower to flower, headed for a periwinkle-colored hydrangea, overgrown but incredibly beautiful.

Caroline's foot caught on a vine, and she stumbled. She grabbed the arm of a marble Grecian G.o.ddess mostly wrapped in ivy to catch her fall. Was this Aphrodite? Athena? Persephone? Whoever she was, she was beautiful, even though the marble was cracked and chipped in a few places.

Oh, how she wanted to buy this place. It felt magical; it had wrapped around her, making her feel as warm as her own Briar Rose Cottage had. She'd thought she'd never find another place that could give her that sense of home, but the Misty Harbor Inn was inching its way into her heart.

She and Max headed for the porch that crossed the entire back of the house. They climbed the creaking steps and stopped, stunned once again by the view. The afternoon sun splintered across the deep blue ocean. A couple of boats in full sail raced across the water, and the waves rolled gently back and forth. The soft roar sounded almost like a lullaby. If there'd been a hammock hanging out here, she could easily stretch out and fall asleep.

It was heaven here. The scents of salt.w.a.ter and overgrown flowers wafted around her.

The shutters on this side of the house had been closed up tight, nailed or screwed into place, just as they had been in the front. As Max went sniffing around the yard, she jiggled one shutter after another, looking for one that might be a little bit loose, and found one at last. She jiggled it again and again, trying to get the shutter open far enough so she could see what room this window looked in on.

"Back again, I see."

Caroline spun around. She hadn't heard any footsteps, but the woman with the Gibson Girl hairdo was standing right behind her. Her hands were on her hips. She wore a pale blue polyester pantsuit today; the black rhinestone brooch fastened to her wide lapel looked like a leopard. Its red rhinestone eyes glared at Caroline.

"This old place seems to have a hold on me," Caroline said, smiling warmly, hoping to ease the woman's suspicions. "I couldn't help but come back. I just wish I could get inside, or at least peek through the windows."

"A simple call to the real estate agent would remedy that," the woman said. She cautiously eyed Caroline up and down. Then, she slowly stuck out one hand, while her other hand held on tightly to her cane. "I'm Shirley Addison."

Caroline reached for her hand. It was cool and dry, like old paper.

She had lost some of the bl.u.s.ter from their first encounter, but Caroline was still cautious. "My mom brought my sisters and me here nearly fifty years ago," she ventured. Shirley watched her carefully. "But I still remember the wallpaper in the parlor. It looked like a million peac.o.c.ks were marching around with their colorful feathers spread out for everyone to admire."

"Yes, I suppose the old wallpaper did look like that. The company that turned the house into an inn back in the 1950s had a thing for peac.o.c.ks. They even had a few real ones here. 1960, I think it was."

The woman looked around the yard, as if imagining them parading around the garden today.

"It liked to have scared me to death the first time I heard them. They were quiet as cotton blowing in the breeze during the day, but in the middle of the night, when their tail feathers got ruffled, they'd start their screeching. Mr. Addison, my husband, G.o.d rest his soul, might have taken a shotgun to them if they hadn't been so pretty. Don't know what the owners ended up doing with those birds, but one day they were gone, and they've never been back."

Max chose that moment to barrel up the stairs, nearly knocking over Mrs. Addison. He started to run circles around her. He liked attention, and he wanted Mrs. Addison's. "This is Max," Caroline said, grabbing the rambunctious c.o.c.ker spaniel by the collar. After ordering him four times to sit, Max finally plopped down on the porch.

Mrs. Addison eyed him, and then she turned her stare from Max back to Caroline and gripped her cane with both hands.

"You're going to buy this old place, aren't you?"

Mrs. Addison said it with so much conviction that Caroline wondered if she had some sort of sixth sense. Caroline didn't know if it was possible, but she wanted to. She'd need both of her sisters to go in with her, and Gracie was so set against it, but she would keep trying to convince her.

"I've thought about it." Caroline chuckled. "My sisters think I'm out of my mind."

"The people who are out of their minds are the ones who walked away from this place. I don't see how they could just let it get in this condition." Shirley shook her head, tsking her disgust. "I've seen a lot of changes here over the years. Mr. Addison and I bought our place, Quincy Court, in 1952. Takes a lot of work to keep up a home built in 1799, but when you love a place, you do what you have to do."

"It doesn't look like the owners of the inn were in love with the place."

Mrs. Addison tsked. "The current owners had one spat after another with the historical society and the buildings department. They wanted to paint the place red, which would have been fine and dandy if they'd opted for Cottage Red." Caroline nodded. She knew that there were only eleven colors a building in Nantucket could be painted. The Nantucket Historic District Commission had determined the handful of shades that were historically accurate for the island, and it was against code to paint a home or business anything else. Cottage Red was one of the approved colors.

"But no," Shirley continued. "They wanted something that looked like the candy apple red Mr. Addison painted our fifty-seven Chevy, and that was an absolute no-no."

"That's it? The issue of paint colors caused them to walk away from the inn?"

Shirley tucked an errant strand of long white hair back into the pouf of her bun. "Oh no. They also wanted to add false dormers to the outside and put a bra.s.s weathervane on top. It would have looked like a barn by the time they were finished, instead of a nineteenth-century colonial." Shirley shook her head, tsking again. "Plus, the inn had been going downhill for a while. I've talked with many a guest over the years, and found out that the mattresses were hard, the plumbing creaked, the pillows were polyester instead of the down that was advertised. And the food! I could tell you stories about the food that would set your stomach to churning. Suffice it to say, the number of guests dwindled."

This information was no surprise. It jibed with the reviews Caroline had found online. "So the new owners gave up?"

"It was the previous owners who had trouble keeping it up. In way over their heads, if you ask me. They sold it to the California couple who had issues with the historical society. They were rather snooty, to say the least. Thought they could turn this place around by turning it into a unique property, something very un-Nantucket-like. That didn't go over well, and while they fought against the commission, they just let the building fade. Absolute shame, if you ask me."

"It is a shame," Caroline added. She leaned against the white railing around the edge of the porch. "So the California couple still own the building?"

"As far as I know. I haven't seen them in a few summers, and nothing's been done to the inn since then."

"Do you know if anyone's tried to buy it?"

"Oh, there's been interest, or so the real estate agent says, but it's going to take a lot of time and money to get it back in ship's shape," Shirley said. "Whoever buys the inn this time around will have to work hard. It won't be easy to rebuild the place's reputation."

"No, I imagine it won't. Do you know much about the history of the inn? I mean, older history, like from the last century?"

Shirley stared at her. "Exactly how old do you think I am?"

Caroline laughed. "Oh, I didn't mean that you'd remember the history, of course." She gave Shirley a grin. "But we've heard that the original owner's wife disappeared from this house, and we're interested to know more."

"I don't know about all that." Shirley waved her hand dismissively. "They never did find poor Hannah. It was such a shame. She was a good girl"-Caroline suppressed a laugh as she heard Shirley talk about the second Mrs. Montague as if they were friends-"but I've always a.s.sumed the stories about her disappearance and the hidden rooms and all that were just wild speculation."

"So you don't know anything about it?"

"That's what I just said, isn't it?"

Caroline choked back a smile. If they ended up buying this place, it was going to be fun to try to win over the neighbor.

Caroline looked at her watch, remembering her promise to be back at the cottage before six. She still wanted to go to the library, get a visitor's card, and check out books on Nantucket history. She had just a couple of hours to spare. She'd better not be late. Gracie and Sam would never forgive her.

"I've got to run, but it's been really nice talking with you, Shirley." Caroline smiled. "You don't mind me calling you Shirley, do you?"

"I prefer young people calling me Mrs. Addison." She sniffed. "But for you"-she eyed Caroline up and down-"Shirley will do."

"I'll be sure to call the real estate agent if I can talk my sisters into coming out here to look inside the inn," Caroline said, clipping the leash back on Max. "I have a flyer with her name and phone number."

"Good. Good." Shirley nodded and then grasped her cane and started heading toward the porch steps.

Caroline and Max practically skipped down the stairs. She felt a new lightness in her step as they made their way through the unkempt garden. When she got under the arbor, she snagged an Old English rose from the vines and tucked it behind her ear, captivated by the scent that reminded her so much of her Cotswolds home. She waved good-bye to Shirley Addison, who stood on the porch, watching her every move. "I hope we meet again, Shirley."

Shirley shrugged and then slowly allowed herself to smile softly. "I hope so too."

That smells absolutely delicious." Gracie lowered the paperback she'd been devouring for the past few hours and looked at Sam over the reading gla.s.ses precariously balanced on the end of her nose. "What are you making?"

"Well, these are rolls," Sam said as she pulled a baking tray out of the oven. The sweet, yeasty scent of fresh-baked bread filled the room. She set the tray down on the counter and pulled the oven mitts off her hands. "And I made a green salad and asparagus and corn on the cob, but I suspect what you're smelling is the scallops."

Gracie inhaled deeply. "Is that just b.u.t.ter and garlic you're cooking them in?"

"And shallots, with a bit of fresh lemon juice." Sam wiped her hand across her forehead and surveyed the platters of food splayed across the table. She had set it with the cottage's clean white dishware, and Gracie had filled a large gla.s.s vase with fresh flowers from the garden. They had decided to eat inside tonight because the sky had clouded over, but so far there was no rain. "These are about done, so as soon as Caroline gets home, we can eat." Sam aimed the controller at the TV, watched Paula Deen drop a stick of b.u.t.ter into her mixing bowl, and then turned the sound off on Paula's infectious laugh and looked at Gracie again.

"It's almost six."

"Have a little faith in her, Gracie. She said she'd be here."

Gracie set down her book and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "If I had to venture a guess, I'd say she's at the Misty Harbor Inn right now, snooping around again." Gracie shook her head in frustration. "She's obsessed with that place, but she's being totally unrealistic. Even if we technically do have enough, I have other plans for my share of the money."

"Such as?" Sam used a hot pad to slide the rolls off the baking sheet and into a basket lined with a pretty linen napkin.

"Such as"-Gracie shrugged-"Brandon and Stacy have had to borrow money a time or two. I want to have it on hand in case they need more. And the grandkids have to go to college, and there's no way Brandon will be able to afford that without my help."

Sam pressed her lips together. Gracie knew what she was thinking, but she pretended she didn't see the knowing look in her sister's eyes. She felt no shame about putting her family first.

"Plus," Gracie continued, "I don't really want to spend my retirement years washing endless amounts of linen, laying out a gourmet breakfast, and making up other people's beds every morning."

"I'm not all that fond of that idea either, but I have to admit I have given an ounce or two of thought to buying the place."

"It's just one of Caroline's whims," Gracie said.

"Buying the inn was originally Mom's whim," Sam reminded Gracie. "She talked about it whenever we came to Nantucket, and she filled notebook after notebook with B and B ideas." Sam checked her watch and turned off the heat under the scallops. "You know, Caroline and mom were two peas in a pod."

"With a lot of big differences. Mom didn't rush from one idea to another; she always tried to finish what she started."

"Maybe Caroline's trying to change. Maybe she really has decided to settle down," Sam said. She could see Gracie's point, but she really didn't want to be caught between her two sisters. She had always been the peacemaker; sometimes she wished she could just stay out of the fray.

"I wish I could have faith in her," Gracie said, glancing at her watch, "but tonight's a perfect example of Caroline's flightiness. She promised to be here in time for dinner, yet-"

The front door of the cottage flew open, a gust of sea air blowing Caroline and Max into the cozy sitting room. "Sorry I didn't get home sooner, but I popped into Homer's Pet Shop to get a couple of toys and some special treats for Max, and I got to talking to Skip Roderick, Homer's son, who knows everything there is to know about dogs, and then, when I couldn't get into the library, because I had Max with me-"

"Oh, Caroline, you should have known the library wouldn't let Max inside," Gracie said.

"Of course I knew it, but I had to try, and since they flat out said no, I went to the Rarest Books-"

"Is it as wonderful as I imagine?" Gracie asked.

"You'll love it, Gracie. Make sure you put it on one of your lists. Chad Douglas was so helpful, showing me books on Nantucket's history and eighteenth- and nineteenth-century American furniture."

"Great," Sam said. She aimed the remote at the TV and turned off the set. "You can tell us all about it over dinner."

Caroline looked down at her shorts and one of her many colorful gauzy shirts. "I've been all over town in this and I could definitely stand to put on some clean clothes. Can I have a few minutes to change?"

"We'll finish setting the table while you're getting freshened up," Sam said, scooping the scallops onto a charming chipped china platter. She set the dish on the worn oak table and surveyed the meal. It looked as good as it smelled. She took a glad pitcher from the counter and started to fill it with water.

The moment they heard Caroline's bedroom door slam, Sam grinned at Gracie. "See, what did I tell you? I might not completely share your faith in the Man Upstairs, but I certainly have faith in Caroline."

"So, Caroline, you said you went to Rarest Books?" Gracie asked after they were all seated around the kitchen table and had said grace. The soft light from the hanging lamp cast a warm glow over the meal. The bookstore was on Gracie's list for later in the week, but she had been looking forward to seeing the shop and was eager to hear what Caroline thought.

"It was a beautiful little shop," Caroline said. She cut one of her plump creamy white scallops in half and was about to put it in her mouth before continuing. "It's small, but it's got these gorgeous plank floors and antique shelves and comfy couches you just want to plop down in and the sweetest little children's nook. They even serve free coffee and tea. I wanted to stay there forever."

Gracie tried to stifle a smile. The idea of Caroline staying in any place forever was hard to imagine.

Sam glared at Gracie and then quickly said, "Did you say you got into a discussion with the owner?"

Caroline nodded. "I told him I wanted to see what they had on old Nantucket homes, and he showed me a whole section on local history."

Gracie felt tension building in her shoulders. So Caroline had not yet given up on her scheme to buy the Misty Harbor Inn. She could tell by her sister's tone of voice and the dreamy look on her face. Sam must have known it too, because her younger sister kicked her lightly under the table. That was a warning. Be nice!

"Did you find anything interesting?" Sam asked, spearing a bite of lettuce.

"Less than we learned all on our own last night." Caroline shook her head. "Chad, the owner, was nice and helpful, but he's just bought the Rarest Books, and he's new to Nantucket. He knows books, but he doesn't know any more than we do about the island's past."

"That's too bad," Gracie offered, slicing a spear of asparagus in half.

"I'm sure we'll find out something, though. Someone has to know more about the old building. I'll see if I can find out anything from Grandpa Folger on Sat.u.r.day night."

Sam kicked Gracie again, as if she knew full well that Gracie was about to say something she shouldn't. Somehow Gracie bit her tongue, but what she really wanted to do was tell Caroline enough was enough. She didn't want to hear anything more about the inn.

"What do you want to know about it?" Sam asked, her eyes sparkling. Oh dear, she was definitely falling into Caroline's trap, getting excited about Caroline's latest pa.s.sing fancy.

"If he knows anything about secret rooms, for one," Caroline said. "Does he know what happened to Hannah Montague? You know, all the nitty-gritty stuff, especially the tales that could make the inn even more interesting."

"Is that really how you want to spend our vacation? Researching the history of an old, run-down inn? Didn't we do enough of that last night?" Gracie asked, feeling Sam once again kick her lightly under the table. She pretended she didn't notice. "What about our bike rides? Building sand castles? Reading books just for fun?"

"What about learning more about the inn before we make the decision to buy it?" Caroline tossed back. "The more we know-"

"I'm not interested in buying the place," Gracie said. Suddenly the meal Sam had spent all afternoon cooking seemed unappetizing.

"But it has so much going for it, Gracie. I went back there today and took a closer look at the gardens-"

"You didn't! That woman told us to stay away."

"I ran into her again today too, and she's all bluff and bl.u.s.ter. Something tells me she'd do anything for the right neighbors."

"We're not the right neighbors, Caroline. I live in Maine; Sam lives in New York; you live . . . wherever the mood suits. We don't live in Nantucket, and even if we had the money to buy the place, I don't want to leave my home and move here."